#to be fair it's bc school starts again in a few weeks

[apocalypticdemon]

I am so beyond ready to quit this job. Wednesday cannot come fast enough.

[hyprfixate]

a genetic disposition (to loving you) :: [BC x Reader]

read on AO3

summary: seeing chan at the genetic clinic when he told you he was too busy to hang out was one thing. noticing he was now significantly taller than he was a couple weeks ago was another.

learning he's been diagnosed with the werewolf disorder is something different entirely.

pairing: bang chan x reader

tropes: childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love, modern werewolf au, no transformations tho, chronically ill reader, reader has EDS (ehlers danlos syndrome), some angst, slight miscommunication trope

smut warning: masturbation (m), handjobs, blink-and-you-miss-it subby chan, voyeurism, pussy eating (x2), no actual ABO dynamics but that's not stopping Chan from calling himself Alpha, dirty talk, lots of begging, standing/wall sex, cumming inside AND cumming outside.

content warning: talks about being in pain, self deprecating talk, anxiety spirals, very brief internalized ableism, panic attack

word count: 21.6k

author's note: if you saw the three different attempts to post this, no you didn't. enjoy! <3

Chan was acting weird.

To be fair, he always acts weird. Weird might actually be his default. But this was a different type of weird– a weird that involved canceling plans last minute and making up flimsy excuses about why. 

Today, he was supposed to accompany you to your doctor's appointment. A simple, low stakes kind of hangout. You looked at your phone with a sigh.

Channie: sorry, can we do a raincheck for our hangout? not to sound like a fuckboy but something came up

Channie: i really am sorry babygirl. i'll make it up to you i promise. please tell me how it goes okay?

You let out a small huff of air. You would love to be annoyed, mad even, but at the end of the day, this is Chan, your best friend since elementary school. The guy who held you through heartbreaks and stressful semesters. The guy who memorized your ridiculously complicated Dunkin order. The guy who dropped everything to stay with you at the hospital a few months ago when things got really bad.

The guy you're secretly in love with.

Okay, maybe that was a minor and insignificant detail in the grand scheme of things. Either way, you can't be mad at Chan. 

You: don't worry channie. i'll be okay. I hope your stuff goes well ok? 

Channie: love u, good luck with your appointment, it's gonna be ok

Right. Your appointment.

You'd been having some increasingly bothersome and worrying symptoms for the better part of 2 years now. It started with a noticeable dull ache in your knees that wouldn't go away, reaching a peak now where there's not a single day you wake up pain free. The doctors were just as stumped as you were, and as sort of a last ditch effort, they sent you to a geneticist in the expensive part of the city. Thank goodness for adequate health insurance.

You were a bit nervous, which is why you asked Chan to come with you, but it wasn't that big of a deal. You've been to specialists before. 

Still, disappointment rises in your chest as you finish pulling your hair away from your face and securing it with a scrunchie before grabbing your essentials and heading out the door. You're more disappointed about the fact that he's not coming instead of what he's not coming to. You're getting a little weary and tired of the excuses and him bailing on plans. 

But then you think about the way his voice sounds when he calls you babygirl, and everything seems right again.

The trip to the geneticist office is long, and by the time you arrive, you feel the exhaustion in every joint. For such a high caliber place, it's decorated just as sterile and modern as you were expecting, with white walls and white furniture. When you go to check in, the receptionist hands you a tablet with various forms pulled up and points you to the waiting room.

You settle into one of the white waiting room chairs, balancing the iPad on your lap as you begin working through the forms. The questions start simple enough - name, date of birth, insurance information. Then they get more involved, diving into your medical history.

Have you experienced any of the following symptoms in the last six months?

The list that follows is daunting - joint pain (obviously), muscle weakness (sometimes), unexplained fatigue (who doesn't have that?), difficulty concentrating (depends on the day). You find yourself checking more boxes than you'd like.

Your mind drifts to Chan again. You wonder what was so important that he had to cancel. Usually, he at least gives you a concrete excuse, even if it's something silly like having to wash his hair or visit his parents. Today's vague "something came up" feels different. Worrying.

Before you can stop yourself, you pull out your phone.

You: this intake paperwork feels like the ending of a medication commercial

You: i’m surprised they haven't asked me if i or a loved one has been diagnosed with mesothelioma

The message stays on delivered for a while, longer than you expect. You give up on staring at your phone and turn your attention back to the paperwork.

After a ridiculous amount of questions and an even more ridiculous amount of signatures, you finish the preliminary stuff, heading back to the receptionist desk to hand her the iPad. She gives you a polite nod and smile and lets you know the nurse will be out in a second, so you can wait in the small chair by the double doors.

You're lost in thought, mindlessly scrolling through your phone when you hear the gentle sound of your name called. The sound makes you look up, tucking your phone away and grabbing your bag. A nurse stands by the double doors, clipboard in hand, wearing deep purple scrubs and a smile that somehow makes the sterile environment feel a little more human.

You push yourself up from the chair, joints starting their songs of protest after sitting still for so long. The nurse offers pleasantries that you respond to with your usual politeness. As you're walking towards the open door, you hear a beep and the whirr of an electronic lock unlocking. The closed side of the door swings open and–

There's Chan.

You both freeze mid-step, eyes wide and locked on each other like this is the first time you're seeing each other in years. It feels like it, but you did just see him last weekend at a mutual friend's birthday party. It was a fun night, but he was acting strange and dodgy then, too.

something came up.

You squint at him, not sure whether confusion or anger is winning the war in you right now. He opens his mouth once, twice– words are failing. The most he can do is let out a shaky, “Babygirl…”

You take that moment to really look at him. His hair is in its natural curly state, but significantly more messy than usual, wisps falling over and around themselves. His eyes are red and bagged heavily, and his shoulders seem like they're scrunching in on themselves. He hasn't looked like this since that night in the hospital with you.

Something is definitely wrong. 

The nurse clears her throat, and you remember you're being waited on. You motion wordlessly towards the nurse and he gives you a shaky nod.  

“I'll, um. I'll text you,” he mumbles weakly, holding the door open for you as you walk past. When you do, you can't help but look up at him, like way, way up. More than you usually do. You almost pause again– are your bone problems making you shrink, or is he somehow taller? Why does he look like that?

It's you who nods shakily this time, forcing yourself to tear your eyes away so you don't bump into a wall. It takes concentrated effort not to look back at him while you walk down the hallway, but somehow you manage.

The nurse brings you to an exam room and tells you to sit tight while she gets the vitals cart. You obey, still dazed and confused and maybe even a little hurt if you allow yourself to really feel it. Your phone buzzes less than a minute later, and you don't even have to guess who it is.

Channie: i'm so sorry.

Channie: i can explain. i promise.

Channie: i just.. i need some time before i can

Channie: im such a fucking idiot. i'm so sorry babygirl. please. 

There are a million and one responses in your head, each with varying levels of confusion or annoyance. But, among the haze, the image of his exhaustion floats back to you, and you find yourself folding.

As usual.

You: breathe, Chan. it's ok. 

You: whatever it is, we'll figure it out, yeah?

You: i do wish you told me but. it's okay. I can wait for an explanation.

Channie: you're so amazing. i don't deserve you. 

Channie: i'll call you when you get out ok? i love u

The nurse comes back with the vitals cart and begins prepping materials before you can respond properly, so you send back a heart and slip your phone into your pocket. When the blood pressure cuff tightens around your arm, you wonder if the nurse will notice how fast your heart is beating – though you're not sure if it's from anxiety or the way Chan's voice cracked when he called you babygirl.

Maybe both.

To his credit, Chan truly does make it up to you, in the form of an extended weekend away at his parents’ cabin upstate. The invitation, or request rather, comes a couple days after the geneticist incident while you're in bed feeling anxious over your test results.

Channie: picking u up thursday night, we're going to my parents’ cabin till monday

Channie: had plans?

If anyone else were to text you like that, you'd balk at their audacity. But because it's Chan, there's a growing heat in your face when you simply reply:

You: no plans. promise you won't bail?

He sends you a picture of his already packed duffel bag and backpack sitting by his door, then another picture of him and his laptop that's clearly pulled up to Google Maps. His eyebrow is raised, sinfully plump lips pulled into a smirk as he points at the screen.

Channie: give me some creditt

Channie: im already packed and the route is already planned

You giggle, feeling the perpetual knot of nerves in your chest loosen. A weekend away with Chan sounds like the perfect thing. It'll be a way to get your mind off the maybes and anxieties from your appointment, and a way to spend time with your best friend. 

A win-win.

You spend the next few days packing and gathering supplies for a weekend at the cabin, which isn't as simple a task as it sounds. Chan is adamant that you worry about nothing except getting your stuff together, so he won't tell you what he has planned or what to pack. After losing many back and forth arguments, you toss a little bit of everything in your small suitcase, leaving your backpack for entertainment and snack purposes.

Thursday creeps up slowly, then all at once. Unfortunately, you wake up to deep pain in almost all of your joints– even your fingers seem to be screaming with every movement. Getting ready takes longer than you want, but you push through, and it isn't long before you're sitting on your living room couch, waiting for Chan to let you know to come out. It was a wonder what large amounts of Ibuprofen could do.

You hear the familiar puttering of his engine before his text even comes through, the soft ding of your phone cutting through your apartment.

Channie: i'm here babygirl

Channie: coming up to help w ur bags 

A warm flutter runs through your chest at his thoughtfulness. You're not sure you'll ever really get used to it. 

You push yourself up from the couch, breath hitching when the movement causes a dull ache to radiate down the length of your legs. You pause, gripping the arm of the couch and squeezing your eyes shut for a moment.

It's fine, you reason with yourself. It's not that bad. You're fine.

You're thankful that you had the foresight to pack a suitcase instead of a duffle, at least this way you'll have something to bear your weight on while you walk.

Your jacket is slipped over one shoulder when you hear the buzz from your doorbell. Chan's smiling face greets you when you open the door, looking both insanely handsome and–

“Am I shrinking, or are you growing?”

He's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his massive chest, which is somewhat concealed by the oversized sweater he's wearing. You want to scold him for such a light outer layer in the bitter late autumn, but your words get stuck in your throat as you find yourself tilting your head up further than usual to look at him.

And then you give yourself the pleasure of really looking at him.

His hair is its usual wispy, beautiful mess. He cards his fingers through it as he looks at you, smiling as though about to say something, when suddenly his smile drops, his eyebrows furrowed as he stands up straight.

“You're in pain.”

It’s not a question.  He's providing the information to you as fact. You blink in surprise.

“Yes, I am, but how did you–”

"I can–” He cuts himself off, looking uncertain for a moment before shaking his head. "I just know you, babygirl. You're not putting much weight on your left leg, anyway."

Hm. He caught you there.

“How bad is it?”

You finish shrugging on your jacket. “Um, maybe six out of ten. But I took medicine, I should be– Are you sweating?”

It's a stupid question, because he is, and you don't need a verbal response to confirm it. Sweat is beating at his temples and dampening his hair. Something flickers across his face, but then his expression is back to normal again. 

You watch him flip through a million different responses in his mind, but before he settles on one, he spots your bags next to the door and goes to grab them, slinging your backpack over his shoulder with profound ease. He's moving so fast and he's so jittery that you barely get a second to process everything.

“Chan,” you finally say when he whizzes past you again to put your remote back in the organizer. He pauses, back stiffening like he's a little kid again about to be scolded. He turns to you slowly. “Are you okay?”

You watch him take a deep, shuddering breath, his entire body seeming to expand and contract. The unnatural stiffness in his body seems like he's forcing himself to stay still, and you see his finger drumming patterns on his thigh.

You repeat his name, softer this time. “What's wrong?”

He shakes his head a bit too fast. “No, nothing, I–” He runs his fingers through his hair, pausing to grip the roots to ground himself to this moment. It works for a second. “I'm… okay. I can explain everything later babygirl, I just… I really just want to focus on spending time with you.”

There's a raw edge to his voice that makes your chest tighten. You study his face, taking in the exhaustion, the sheen from sweat, the way his eyes won't meet yours. Every instinct screams that something is wrong, but…

“Okay,” you relent with a sigh. It should be embarrassing how easily you fold for him. It should maybe even be studied. “But you promise that you'll explain?”

He deflates, eyes brightening with relief. “I promise. Chris-Cross my heart.” He punctuates his sentence by putting his hand over his chest.

You can't help the smile that takes over your face at that– the reference to the silly rhyme you'd made up when you were kids based on his English name. A bit of the anxiety in your chest loosens. “Now let's go before the traffic gets unbearable.”

You grab your keys and headphones, giving your apartment one last glance over before following Chan out of the door. By the time you finish locking up, he's already halfway to the elevator, his abnormally long legs quickening his pace. As you try to catch up with him, you can't help but notice his stature– how his shoulders seem broad under his sweater, how he just seems… more.

The elevator ride to the parking garage under your apartment building is quiet, but not uncomfortably. Chan is humming something under his breath, his increasingly restless fingers tapping out the rhythm on his leg. Despite all of it, you feel relaxed. No matter what's going on, this is still your Chan, your person. 

He tosses your bags into his trunk with an ease that perks your entire body to attention. When you go to pull open the passenger door, he beats you to it, adding a dramatic flourish as he holds it open for you.

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest.

In the passenger's seat is a small pink box with a label from your favorite bakery, alongside a nice variety of drinks in the cupholder. He's got a pair of fluffy slippers on the mat by your feet, too, and you can see on the dashboard he's turned the seat warmers on.

“Chan,” you breathe. Your heart is doing strange things in your chest, and you're either feeling extremely touched or about to pass out. “You didn't have to–”

“I wanted to.” You turn to look at him, and he's looking away, scratching the hair at the base of his neck. “Felt like an ass, you know, being so distant and weird. Needed to make it up to you.”

It's entirely unfair that he can just… say those things to you. He's your best friend, so of course he's affectionate– that's just how he's been since you met in third grade. What started with bringing extra GoGurts and tying your shoes when you broke your wrist has just now turned into spoiling you with cabin vacations and things you mention offhandedly that you like. 

No biggie.

He nudges you in the car playfully, making some lighthearted joke about him getting too soft on you. You can barely hear him over the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears, choosing instead to follow his movements in the rear view mirror. You watch as he pauses by the trunk, carding a hand through his hair and taking a big breath, before eventually making his way over to the driver's seat. He tosses his phone to you, effectively putting you on music duty, and then you're on the road in a matter of minutes.

Time with Chan is always easy. You talk about any and everything for the first hour of the drive, including his job, your lack thereof, and your appointment, and he listens to every detail carefully. 

“So, they think it's a collagen issue?”

You nod, wiggling your feet in your new slippers as you shift your position. “They aren't entirely sure, but they're looking at collagen based connective tissue disorders, like Ehlers Danlos and Lupus. They think that could explain the other issues too.”

He looks contemplative as he peers around you to the mirror by your door, trying to merge into the next lane. “Are you scared?”

You shrug, body moving with the car. “Its.. complicated. On the one hand, it would be scary to receive a life changing diagnosis. On the other hand–”

“You're just happy to have answers.”

You nod again, taking a sip of the caramel latte he bought for you and wincing as you shift again. Long drives are always hard, but paired with the changes in the pressure as the two of you drive further into the mountains, your joints feel like they might disintegrate.

“Scale of one to ten?”

You blink. Chan hadn't taken his eyes off the road, so how could he have seen you shifting? You open your mouth, prepared to lie, but he glances at you with a single eyebrow raised. You sigh.

“Maybe a six,” you breathe.

“So the Ibuprofen didn't help?”

“It did, it's just wearing off.”

You put the latte back in the cup holder, using your hands to bear your weight as you try to find a comfy position to sit in. 

“What do you need, babygirl?”

You fight the shiver his voice sends down your spine. “Nothing. Well– I don't know. Maybe a nap? Is that okay?”

“‘Course it is. Here.”

With sinfully dexterous fingers, he reaches across your lap to recline your seat for you. You let him, body going still as his strong forearm helps ease you back with the chair. When you're comfortable, he reaches behind him to the floor of the backseat, fishing around until he produces–

“Is that your couch blanket?”

His answering grin is soft. “The one you've been threatening to steal? Yeah. Maybe.”

He drapes it over you skillfully, with you having to do very minimal adjusting. The familiar, homey smell of his apartment– warmth and something else very distinctly Chan – floods your senses and wraps you in the warmest hug. It feels like coming home.

You adjust yourself again, sleep wanting to come now that you're cozy, but the dull ache in your legs doesn't want to let go. Without warning, Chan's free hand slips under the blanket and finds the knee of the leg that hurts with amazing accuracy. His hand feels blazing hot through the fabric of your sweats as he rubs his thumb in soothing circles. 

“This okay, yeah?” he asks, his low voice a soothing sound to your ears. Words are caught in your throat, so you can only nod, but you don't miss how the pain starts to dissolve by his touch. You also try very hard not to think about how big his hand is on your knee.

“Get some rest, babygirl. I got you.”

The combination of his gentle touch, the music, and the smell of his blanket is making your eyelids heavy. As you finally drift off, a contented smile pulls at your mouth because no matter what, this is where you're meant to be. 

This is home.

Chan wakes you up about half an hour before you're expected to arrive. However, paired with delays, the pitch blackness of the mountains, and the general unrestrainedness of Murphy's Law, you were only now getting to the cabin at just past 1am. 

The cabin is beautiful, as always. It's nestled amidst a thick grove of evergreen trees, and its tall, warm wood exterior seems inviting even at the ungodly hour you two arrive. As he swings the car onto the gravel driveway, the headlights illuminate it, like it’s a secret just for the two of you.

“Cabin sweet cabin,” he murmurs as he kills the engine. He picks his phone up from the cup holder and gives it a few flicks, then suddenly the porch lights come on. You give a little stretch in your seat, your joints feeling pleasantly loose and mostly pain free– the nap worked wonders. 

The two of you pile out of the car, the fresh mountain air filling your nostrils. It smells like pine needles and freshwater, with an undercurrent of something wild and electric, like the air before a storm.

“Is it supposed to rain?”

Chan barely hears you, his antsyness now back full force. He's got both of your backpacks and his duffle bag slung over his shoulders, and he goes to grab your suitcase, but you appear by his side and pull it away from him. He blinks down at you, seeming surprised to see you there.

You tilt your head to the side. He still looks sweaty, and from where you're standing, it still seems like he's radiating an insane amount of heat. His breaths are labored, and you find yourself reaching over to rub your thumb over his hand. However, once your hands connect, he jumps and pulls away like you've shocked him.

At your hurt face, he tries to backtrack. “Static,” he supplies weakly. You say nothing, and the tips of his ears turn bright red. “Come on, let's get you out of the cold.”

You try not to jump to conclusions. At the end of the day, if something is really bothering him, if something is really wrong, Chan will tell you. He has always been the brooding type, but there is but so long he can keep things from you.

Still, no matter how much you try to take things at his pace, you keep seeing his face at the clinic: the deep bags under his eyes, the messy hair. The last time you looked into those eyes and saw that same pain, you were in a hospital bed hooked up to more monitors than you could count.

Chan had been brooding then too, refusing to leave your side, asking the doctors all the right questions, keeping your parents up to date when they had to go back home. You remember one night in particular, when you were chalk full of pain meds and falling asleep under the whirr of an oxygen mask, he'd stood at your bedside and rubbed his thumb over your forehead to soothe you. You couldn't speak, too exhausted and in pain to move in any capacity, but you didn't need to. He spoke to you the entire time about everything and nothing, switching his  murmuring to quiet comforts when you started to cry. Just before sleep took you under, you met his eyes– his exhausted, red rimmed eyes– and he gave you the softest, most tender look.

“We'll get through it, babygirl,” he had murmured. “You're gonna be okay. You'll come home.”

You did come home, of course, but that's when things became different. Chan was distant, constantly canceling plans, avoiding you.

You shake the memory from your head as you watch him fiddle with his keys in the lock. This weekend was meant to be about the two of you having fun. You could worry about everything else later.

Chan flicks on the overhead light in the living room area and the room floods with warmth. Everything looks just as familiar and homey as you recall.

Before you can take a good breath, he's got your bags and suitcase and is bounding up the stairs with them like they weigh nothing. You choose to busy yourself with getting comfortable, peeling off your coat and hanging it on the nearby hook.

You're tugging your hair back into a ponytail when he comes back down, and when you look up and spot him the scrunchie flies across the room.

He's taken off his hoodie, leaving him in a fitted white tee that does nothing to hide just how different his body looks. It's no secret that Chan works out, but he fills out this shirt like it was painted on him. You quickly pull your spare scrunchie from the other wrist to tie up your hair, trying not to dwell.

"Do you want me to put these in the kitchen?" you call out, holding up the bag of road trip leftovers.

"Yeah, just–" his voice cracks, and he clears his throat. "Just throw them on the counter. I'll organize everything later."

You pad into the kitchen, bare feet silent on the wooden floors. Everything is exactly as you remember it – the mismatched mugs in the cabinet, the worn wooden spoons in the ceramic holder, the string lights Chan installed last summer that give everything a soft glow. If you close your eyes, you could almost pretend nothing has changed.

Almost.

You find, unsurprisingly, that the cabinets and fridge are stocked full. Chan's parents likely came out to pack up some groceries when he told them you'd be coming. You find yourself leaning against an open cabinet, staring into space, your mind a million miles away.

"You okay, babygirl?”

You jump slightly – you hadn't heard him come up behind you. He's standing in the doorway of the kitchen, running his hands through his hair again, that restless energy still evident in every movement.

"Yeah, just..." you gesture vaguely around you. "Memories, you know?"

His expression softens, and for a moment he looks exactly like your Chan again. "Yeah, I know."

The moment stretches between you, comfortable and familiar, until your stomach decides to break it with an embarrassingly loud growl. Chan's laugh is startled but genuine.

"I don't remember that.” He jokes. “Hungry?"

You feel your cheeks heat. "Yeah, I think so.”

He starts rolling his sleeves up. “I could probably make some eggs and toast, if–.”

“It's one in the morning,” you scold him gently. “Nobody is cooking.”

He gives you a pout, which is comical considering his current stature, but you still feel a tug in your chest. “But–”

You shake your head, turning away from him so you don't relent. “No buts. We have tons of snacks. Help me find something.”

At your request, the two of you rummage through the drawers and cupboards. Everything either requires too much effort or won't agree with your stomach at this ridiculous hour. You're ready to call it quits and sleep for dinner when a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“Oh, can I have one of your protein bars? You always buy the good kind.”

His smile is soft, dimples catching the light in a way that makes his entire face seem like a dream. “Of course. They're in my backpack, next to the couch.”

You slide your way to his bag with an excited pep in your step. Chan, being who he is, always buys the amazingly expensive protein bars that manage not to taste like chalky disappointment. They're surprisingly filling, and you know they'll settle your stomach without causing a stomach ache.

You find his bag quickly in the low light of the room, squatting down to rifle through it. With your hand in the front pocket, you dig around until your fingers find something that feels like the protein bar box. In your hungry haze, you yank it out without thinking.

It is not the protein bar box.

Instead, it's a thick packet of paper. You go to put it back when the letter head of the genetic clinic you visited catches your eye, along with the words “After-Visit Summary”.

Maybe if your heart wasn't thrumming in your ears, you would've heard his panicked footsteps coming after you. But the only thing in your ears is the erratic beating of your heart, one that only gets worse when you turn the packet over and read the small words on the margin:

You were seen today for: Hormonal Changes. The following issues were addressed: Genetic Lycanthrope Syndrome (Werewolf Gene).

You hear your name through the roaring in your ears. It's a soft, tentative sound that cracks around the edges. You turn, slowly, to see Chan almost right behind you, his face drained of all color and his eyes blown wide.

“Chan,” you breathe. You turn a bit more towards him, the packet still gripped in your hand. “What–”

"I can explain," he says quickly, desperately. His hands are shaking. "I was going to tell you, I swear, I just– I needed time to–”

He trails off, looking around the room as though looking for someone to help him.

Genetic Lycanthrope Syndrome.

You came across this condition when you were researching the clinic, as they mentioned that they were the only place in the area that had the facilities to test for it. It was, as the paper put it, the werewolf gene. People with the condition experienced heightened senses of smell, increased strength, sensory sensitivities– they were werewolves, just without the whole full moon transformation thing.

To say the condition was rare was an understatement. Both parents had to be carriers for the trait, and even then it only occurred in 25% of those births.

And Chan happened to be one of them.

Everything clicks into place now. The sudden growth spurt, the feverishly hot skin, how he knows when you're in pain without you saying a word.

“This is why you were at the clinic,” you say softly. It's not a question.

He nods jerkily, still looking like he might bolt at any second. You stand up to take a step toward him and he actually backs away.

“Don't,” he breathes. “I'm… I don't want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” You almost laugh. “Chan, you're not going to hurt me. How could you think that?”

“No, you don't understand,” he cards his hands through his hair, pausing to tug on the roots. “I can't… I don't know how to control myself yet. I'm different now, I'm–”

“Still Chan.”

The sound he makes is painful. “You can't say that,” he breathes. His hands drop to his sides again. “You don't know what it's like.”

“So tell me," you urge. You move as though you're about to take another step towards him, and your heart drops at how his entire body flinches. “Chan. Chris. Christopher. Look at me please.”

The use of his full name does something to him, and you watch as he settles, eyes drifting over to you slowly. His gaze is intense, and in the dim light of the living room, you feel akin to a deer staring down a wolf, no pun intended. 

It does not frighten you the way it should.

“Talk to me, please,” you beg. “You're my best friend. I'm here for you, always.”

“I can smell when you're in pain,” he grits out. It's not what you're expecting to hear. He clenches a hand into a fist, then lets it go. “You usually smell sweet, like caramel and linen. But then your scent gets an undercurrent of something harsh, like burnt sugar and metal, and I… I feel like–”

He lets out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes as he cuts himself off. “I can't control my strength. I've broken so much shit around the apartment. Don't wanna touch you. Don't wanna break you.”

“You won't hurt me.” You take the opportunity to get closer, but he must smell the closing distance because his eyes fly open. You're in front of him before he can move. “Do you know why?”

Chan's breaths are ragged and labored. “Why?”

“Because you're still my Chan. Still the guy who's been taking care of me since elementary school. Still the person I trust most in the world."

His breath hitches. "How can you say that? How can you just... accept this?"

You can't help the small laugh that escapes. "Chan, I'm literally at the same genetic clinic getting tested for a collagen disorder. Did you think I wouldn't understand what it's like to have your body change in ways you can't control?"

That seems to catch him off guard. He turns away, a frown tugging at his lips. "That's... that's different.”

“Is it though?” You pretend to be thoughtful. “Last I checked, it's like both of our bodies are changing in ways we don't understand. Like we both have to navigate a new normal.”

"That's exactly why I–" he cuts himself off, running both hands through his hair. "I can't risk hurting you. Not when you're already..."

"Already what?" You challenge, taking one final step. You're close enough now that you have to tilt your head back to look at him properly. "Already broken?”

His face twists up like you've punched him in the stomach. “No! God, no. When you're already going through so much.”

“A lot of what I'm going through is a waiting game, Chan– waiting for test results, waiting for appointments at specialists. You don't have to keep things from me because of that.”

You poke him in his side, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, this? Finding out you're a werewolf–”

“The correct term is Lycanthropy Syndrome–”

“-- This is the kind of stuff that keeps me grounded. Having other things to think about. Having you around.”

You watch the tension slowly bleed from his shoulders, almost as though he's deflating. There's obviously more he isn't telling you– you can see it in the way his eyes still can't seem to meet yours– but you don't push it. He's already said so much.

“So,” you start. You rock back and forth on your feet. “Can I make werewolf puns now?”

He rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you pawsitive?”

He groans at that, a smile pulling at his lips despite himself. “You're the worst. I'm gonna leave you here and go home.”

But he's laughing anyway, his usual giggle that makes everything seem like it'll be alright. You beam at him. and your body lights aflame when he smiles back down at you softly. The two of you hold eye contact for a second, and you watch something untraceable flash in his eyes. Before you can even process it, he's looking away again and clearing his throat.

Another silence falls between you, but this one is different. Chan is fidgeting again, his fingers drumming against his thigh in that restless way you've noticed all evening. He's looking everywhere but at you, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

"What is it?" you ask softly.

He opens his mouth once. Twice. Three times– words seem to be failing him again. You raise an eyebrow and he sighs, a sheepish smile on his big stupidly handsome face.

"Can we..." he starts, then stops. Starts again. "Would it be okay if we... like we used to..."

You wait patiently as he struggles with the words. His ears are turning red again.

"Can we share my bed?" he finally gets out in a rush. "Like– like when we were kids? Just for tonight. I just... I haven't been sleeping well since everything started and I… um…”

Your brain short circuits as the request processes.

Share… a bed. With Chan. Taller, wider, more muscular Chan. Chan whose body heat seeps through every layer of clothing. Chan whose one hand can cover your knee easily. 

From the way your body reacts, your knee jerk reaction is to say no. He's already going through enough, and Lord knows what types of degenerate scent you'd be giving off if you spent an entire night with him.

But when you open your mouth to decline, you notice how he's standing, with his shoulders curved inward, trying to make himself smaller. His big brown eyes are pleading, almost desperate, and you think about how scared he was earlier, how convinced he was that you'd reject him once you knew the truth.

Fuck it.

“Of course, Channie.”

The smile on his face is nervous, like he expects you to change your mind any second. “Yeah?”

You nod, ignoring the way your brain tries to supply you with images of everything you want to have happen. "Yeah. Just... let me get changed first?"

He nods quickly, that restless energy back but different now – excited rather than anxious. "Yeah! Yes. Your stuff is in your room, yeah? I'll be in mine when you're ready."

He's bounding up the stairs before you can say anything. You take the moment alone to take a deep breath. You can do this. It's just Chan. Just your best friend.

When you reach your room, you duck into the attached bathroom to change quickly, opting for the full top and bottom PJ set rather than the oversized hoodie you were originally going to wear. You stare at your reflection, willing yourself to calm down and look normal.

Sharing a bed with Chan is not a new concept. When you'd first gotten close in grade school, the two of you tended to hop from house to house, sleeping wherever without a care in the world. The habit continued as you grew up– in college during study sessions, during movie marathons on school breaks, that one time a few months ago when you'd gotten terribly drunk at your friend Jeongin's birthday party. It had never been anything more than two friends seeking each other's comfort.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror again, face flushed and breathing ragged. You force yourself to calm down– if Chan could smell when you were in pain, he could probably smell the indecency coming off of you in waves. 

Everything is fine.

When you reach the doorway of the master bedroom, Chan is already in bed scrolling on his phone. You watch his nostrils flare for a second, eyes fluttering shut as he puts his phone on the night stand.

The king sized bed looks both too big and too small.

When he opens his eyes, he looks surprised to see you. and you watch red start to tint his neck. “Um. Hey,” he breathes.

You hover in the doorway, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space between you. "Hey."

Chan shifts, pulling back the covers on what has always been 'your' side of the bed “Um. Do you want... I mean, we usually..." He trails off, looking everywhere but directly at you.

You take the initiative and move towards the bed, sliding down under the covers until they reach just under your chin. Chan shuffles next to you, scooting this way and that, flipping like a hot dog on a stick. You both settle on your back eventually, staring up at the ceiling.

“This is weird,” he says after a few minutes of strained silence.

“Not weird,” you supply. “Just… different.”

“Different…,” he murmurs. “Different because I'm different?”

You almost laugh. “Chan, what? No–”

He's sliding out from under the covers before you can finish. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– this was dumb to ask.” You ignore the way your heart drops. “I'll go sleep in the other room. Or on the couch. Or–”

You grab at his wrist before he can go anywhere. He doesn't jerk away this time, but his entire body goes rigid. You rub your thumb along the pulse point on his wrist.

“You don't have to leave,” you say slowly. “It’s not weird because you're different. It's weird because we're both over thinking it.”

He lets out a little breath. “We are, aren't we?”

"Yeah." You squeeze his wrist once before letting go. He settles back down into the bed, still looking a bit uncomfortable, but not ready to run anymore. 

You smile at him before holding open the cocoon you made in the blanket. "Come here, you big baby."

"I resent that," he grumbles, but there's a smile tugging at his lips.

It takes some maneuvering to find a comfortable position. Chan is hesitant at first, careful not to crowd you, but eventually you manage to guide him until his head is tucked under your chin, his arm draped carefully over your middle. His body curls around yours despite the size difference, like he's trying to make himself smaller again. When he finally settles, it feels like every part of him is contoured to fit you perfectly.

You ignore the heat in your stomach.

The silence that settles around you is comfortable now, broken only by your breathing beginning to sync up. His body weight is grounding, and the heat he's radiating feels like the world's best heating pad. 

You're just beginning to doze off when Chan makes a low, displeased grunt in the back of his throat. You can feel his eyebrows scrunch together where he's pressed against your collarbone.

“Your hip,” he murmurs.

“Hm?”

He shifts in your hold, maneuvering you until his other hand can slide under your body to wrap around you. “Your hip hurts. Or it's about to start.”

Sleepiness has made you a pliant, barely conscious little thing. You're about to ask how he can tell when his big, warm hand presses against your hip, heat radiating through the fabric until it settles deep into your bones. You can't help but let out a little whimper from the immediate relief it gives you.

Chan makes another sound in his throat, grip increasing on you almost infinitesimally. 

“This good, babygirl?”

“Mmf.”

The warmth and relaxation is muddling your brain. “S'good, Channie.”

He makes a more pleased sound and nuzzles closer. Sleep takes you quickly after that, and all you can think about as you finally succumb is how lucky you are to have him here with you. You'd love to say as much, but you're too tired to open your mouth, so you give him the tiniest of squeezes, hoping he understands.

From the way his arm tightens around you, you think he does.

Things seem less charged in the morning.

You wake up to sunlight glittering through the curtains and the other side of the bed empty. The sheets are still warm, but given what you've come to learn about Chan and his temperature, he could've left the bed anywhere from three seconds to four hours ago.

You stretch a little bit as you try to wake up fully, heading to the other bedroom to freshen up for the day. It seems like an okay day pain-wise. You're at a steady three out of ten everywhere except your hands, but you brush it off. With the way you sleep, your hands take longer to catch up to the lower pain levels in the rest of your body. It's just a matter of time. 

Still, you run them under warm water in the bathroom, hoping to loosen them up.

When you finally emerge, you follow the mouthwatering scent of cooking down the stairs and into the kitchen. After a nonexistent dinner, you're starved, and you could really go for some food right now.

You pause in the archway of the kitchen.

Food is… an understatement.

Chan stands at the stove, spatula in hand and preparing to flip what looks like an omelette. All around him on the counters are various other breakfast foods: scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, hashbrowns, fruit–

“When did you have time to make a sourdough starter?”

He startles slightly, turning to face you with a sheepish smile. “Ah… good morning, babygirl. I may have.. gone a bit overboard.”

“A bit?” You slide into a seat at the edge of the kitchen island in the one spot where there's no food. “If you were planning to invite the woodland creatures you could've given me a heads up, I'd be decent.”

The responding huff makes you smile. “I cannot communicate with animals. Weirdo.” Chan grins. He folds the omelette in half and flips it over. “I just… I got hungry.”

You sneak a piece of bacon off of a nearby plate and snort. “‘Hungry’ seems like a gross understatement. Is this a side effect?”

Chan's ears turn pink as he plates the omelette. "Yeah, actually. My metabolism is... different now. Food tastes different too– more intense." He starts moving dishes to the kitchen island, careful not to overcrowd your space. "Everything is more intense, really."

"Like what?"

He hums thoughtfully as he settles into the chair next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. "Smells are the biggest thing. Like, I can smell everything. The coffee brewing, the bacon grease in the air, the rain that's coming later–"

"It's going to rain?"

"Yeah, probably this afternoon." He passes you a fork and a plate you never noticed him constructing. "I can smell it in the air. What’s the word? Petrichor, but... before the rain actually falls? If that makes sense.”

You hum around a fork full of eggs, cracking the fingers on your free hand. “That sounds like it can get miserable. Is everything just… enhanced all the time?”

He takes a bite out of a chunk of toast, making a so-so motion with his hand. “It's enhanced all the time, but the way it is right now, the intensity, that’s only sometimes. Only during–”

He cuts himself off, swallowing his bite of toast with more power than necessary. 

“During the full moon?” You supply.

He nods quickly. “Yeah.”

There's a lull in the conversation that you try not to read into. It doesn't take much effort anyway, because you notice that eating is taking more effort than it was a few minutes ago. Your grip on the fork is weird, and you can't seem to close your fingers all the way around it.

That's fine, you think to yourself. You switch hands. Everything is fine.

You try not to let the revelation sour your mood. Chan mentioned it was going to rain, and while your doctors didn't know why you were in pain, they knew what kinds of things made it worse, and the air pressure changes from rain was one of them. This was just something you had to learn to deal with now.

Resentment for your condition rises in your chest with the little bit you've eaten, and you take a sip of apple juice to swallow it down. It's not fair. People your age were doing things like mountain climbing, running marathons, just living. And here you were, struggling to feed yourself and hold a fork.

It's fine.

A hand on your shoulder pierces through the dense clouds shrouding your mind, and you feel yourself startle a little. Chan is facing you, leaning his impossibly tall torso down to look you right in your eyes. His gaze is intense, gold flecks in his eyes swimming around as he stares.

“What hurts,” he breathes. The sound of his voice is light as a feather, floating through the air before coming to rest gently on your lips. 

“My hands.”

“Scale of one to ten?”

You think about saying your number, but upon remembering how nice and easy conversation was this morning, you decide to lie. “Four.”

The look in Chan’s eyes grows more intense, and you swallow around nothing. He levels you with a very unimpressed look, eyebrows creasing and his plushy, pink lips frowning. He only says two words, but they send a ripple through your body anyway:

“Try again.”

Fuck. You're giving yourself whiplash. Jumping from frustration to stark arousal was an Olympics level move your brain wasn't prepared for. There's a different kind of haze clouding your mind now.

“It's a seven,” you breathe. 

He's up on his feet before you can fully compose yourself, long legs taking him up the stairs and bringing him back down in a matter of seconds. When he sits down again, he's holding your decorative medication pouch and a mini water bottle from your backpack.

You gulp at the way the veins in his arm bulge.

“Which bottle is it?”

You come back to yourself, licking your incredibly dry lips before you respond. It takes a blink or two before you can orient yourself in the present. “Um, red bottle. The tall one.”

He places the bottle and water in front of you in a gentle way that contrasts the energy in the room. You fumble with the child proofing for a second before he plucks the bottle from you, undoing the lid with one hand.

Wow. Fuck.

"Thanks," you mumble, accepting the pills he tips into your palm. His hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck as you swallow them, and you try not to shiver at the contact.

“Do you need a nap while the pills work?”

You pout, finally coming back to your good senses. “We're supposed to have a movie marathon today.”

“I didn't realize the TV had a flight to catch?”

You glare at him, albeit thankful for the teasing sarcasm to loosen the tension. “You're not funny.”

Chan's lips pull into a smirk and he gives a little shrug. “I think I am.”

You roll your eyes at him as he stands, coming over to you and easing you out of your seat. He gives a little ‘tsk’ at your faux attitude, but his hands are back on your shoulders, guiding you towards the couch. When you finally do lay down, he's already throwing his signature couch blanket over you, tucking it around you securely.

“Comfy?”

You are, but you've also realized he's tricked you into a nap, so you do the adult thing and mock him before sticking your tongue out at him.

“Wow,” he murmurs. He slides down the couch and onto the floor. “I haven't seen that routine since 4th grade.”

You watch as he adjusts his legs a few times, his head resting against the armrest right by your fingers. It’s unspoken, but you know that he'll stay until he's sure you're asleep. 

"You don't have to sit on the floor," you murmur. "There's plenty of room up here."

He shakes his head. "Nah. I'm good here.”

You watch his side profile for a minute, basking in all of his Chan-ness. He settles in a bit more and lets his eyes flutter closed. When he does, he leans his head back a little more, and you watch the delicate bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows. 

“Chan?” Your mouth is moving before you know it. 

“Hm?”

“Were you scared? When you… got the diagnosis?”

His eyes open at that, and he turns his head so he can look at you. The intensity from earlier is gone, replaced by that familiar warmth that only he has.

There's a beat of silence where all Chan does is stare, almost as if seeing you for the first time. It passes, though, and then he goes back to his previous position, eyes closed again as he speaks. “No,” he says finally. “I wasn't scared. The only thing I thought about was you.”

“Me?”

He nods against the couch. “They kept talking about what it meant and all of that, and all I could think about was how on earth I was going to tell you.”

You reach a hand over and start rubbing at his scalp in the familiar way you've always done. “And yet,” you tease gently. “I had to accidentally find the papers.”

He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, leaning into your hand. “That wasn't the plan,” he murmurs. “Was supposed to tell you properly.”

You stay quiet, continuing to play with his hair. The quiet domesticity is comforting, and you find your eyes fluttering closed too. 

You move your fingers through his hair in nonsensical patterns and shapes, occasionally letting your nails graze his scalp. His breathing evens out eventually--he's not sleeping, no, just content and peaceful. You're a different story, though, and medication induced drowsiness starts flowing its way through your body.

Your movements grow slower and uncoordinated, hand drifting lower, and lower, until eventually your fingers trail to the nape of his neck. When you drag your nails across the sensitive skin there, Chan makes a sound that shoots straight through you and straight to your core– something between a pleased hum and a growl that vibrates through his entire body.

Both of you freeze. Your heart starts doing gymnastics in your chest while the sound echoes in your ears, making your body grow hot. Beneath you, Chan is rigid, like every muscle has been pulled taut.

The room is entirely still for a second. Then, he clears his throat a little, shifting himself so you have better access. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Keep going. Feels nice.”

You force your fingers to move again, continuing their exploration and tracing the curls on Chan's head. 

You repeat your mantra in your mind:

Everything is fine.

The moment passes like a summer storm– intense and fleeting– and soon Chan is relaxed again, practically melting under your touch. You're actively fighting sleep now but you're realizing it's a losing battle. Your movements become slower, less deliberate, until your hand is simply resting in his hair.

"Sleep, babygirl," he murmurs, voice thick and honeyed. "I got you.”

So you do.

When you wake up a bit later, you find yourself, sadly, alone.

In place of Chan's thick curls is the cold rectangular slab that is your cell phone. You squint at it sleepily, not remembering bringing it down with you for breakfast or having it on the couch. You flick through the unlock process, and when your phone opens, it's on the notes app.

Hi babygirl. If you're reading this, I went to the store. We don't have any vegetables. I'll try to be quick. - Channie

You wipe sleep from your eyes as you sit up, trying to orient yourself in your surroundings. You hear the steady whooshing of the rain outside and carefully flex all of your joints. You're content to find that you're at a steady three out of ten everywhere.

You settle back into the couch cushions, pulling the blanket around you tighter. It's not scary to be by yourself, especially not in the cabin,  but Chan's presence is definitely missed. You decide to fill the silence with television, something low stakes and stupid that you can listen to while you scroll on your phone.

However, the microscopic roku remote has decided to go missing, and after digging through the couch cushions twice, you sit back with a huff. You suppose your phone will do for now.

You open YouTube with the intent to watch one of your favorite Let's Play videos, but as you scroll through your homepage, something catches your eye. The title makes you pause:

Q&A: Genetic Lycanthropy Syndrome (aka The Werewolf Gene)

The algorithm strikes again, you suppose.

The video was posted a little over a month ago and has a substantial amount of views and comments. The creator themselves has well over 100k subscribers. It looks perfectly legit. Before you can overcomplicate it and talk yourself out of it, you press play.

“Hi everyone!” The guy on the video has a soft, smiling face, accented by round, thin-rimmed glasses. “Welcome or welcome back to my channel. If you're new here, I'm Seungmin, and I have GLS, which stands for Genetic Lycanthropy Syndrome. Or, to put it simply, I have the werewolf gene.”

You are immediately invested.

“I set up a question box on Instagram a couple days ago, and you guys really went to town.” Seungmin chuckles. “So I'll answer a few of those in this video.”

The first few questions are simple enough– what made him suspect he had it, the diagnostic process, how his family reacted. He answers every question thoughtfully and thoroughly in a way that makes you learn more than you thought you needed to.

You're writing down the fact that people with GLS tend to need more red meat than dark meat in their diet when he starts reading out the next question. 

“@jutdae asks, ‘how does the enhanced sense thing not drive you crazy?’” Seungmin lets out a little laugh. “So, the sense thing is kind of tricky for non-GLS people to understand. On a regular day, it might be enhanced, but maybe only 50% better than most people. The real issue is when rut or heat cycles start.”

You drop your phone, cursing when it slips right into the couch cushions.

“During a rut–” Seungmin's muffled voice continues as you fish around for your phone. “-- it's probably around 150% better. And our body temperature will skyrocket, like a constant fever type. The extra sensory input can cause a lot of restless energy too, so we're always feeling like we want to crawl out of our skin. Thankfully ruts, or heats for AFAB people, only happen once every three months, for about a week.”

You finally find your phone, heart pounding as you fumble to hold it still. The boy on your screen adjusts his glasses before continuing, entirely unaware how he's just flipped your life on its head.

“Well, that's for people who've presented for a while. When you first present with symptoms, you can get your rut every month. And that's… an entirely different type of intense. I surely don't miss that.”

Your brain might be oozing out of your ears.

You don't need to Google what a rut cycle is. You already know. It's the one aspect of GLS everyone is familiar with.

You scan through the events of the last 36 hours with unfathomable speed. It's all there. Every single symptom mentioned in this video. 

Extremely heightened senses. Restless energy. Fever-hot skin. 

Chan.

Chan hasn't been able to sit still. Chan's skin is hot to the touch. Chan keeps telling you when your pain is about to start because he can smell it. Chan brought you to an isolated cabin in the mountains.

Chan is in rut. Chan's diagnosis was only finalized less than a week ago. Ergo, this is his first rut.

The sound of a car door slamming makes you jump so hard that your phone flies away from the couch and skitters onto the floor.

Shit.

You scramble to grab it, swiping out of the video before Seungmin finishes answering what you're certain are other life changing questions. You can't hear anything he's saying, laser focused on the sound of Chan's impending footsteps and the sound of rustling grocery bags.

“Babygirl,” Chan's voice vibrates from the entryway. “I'm back. You awake?”

“Yeah,” you call, forcing yourself to sound steady. You clear your throat. “Yes, I'm up.”

You hear him put the bags down and toe off his sneakers, socked feet padding into the room where you are, undoubtedly, staring like a ghost came through the door and robbed you of your possessions. You fight to fix your expression into something normal, but all of that goes out the window when he steps into the threshold.

He's soaked. The rain has soaked through his shirt, making it cling to his chest and highlight every cut of his muscle. His curls are wild, some of them plastered to his forehead while others seem to be competing for the best pose. There's water dripping down his neck an–

You find a spot on the wall to look at instead. 

“Sorry I took so long.” He brushes his hair off of his face. “The store closest was closed, had to run way into town.”

“It's fine,” you squeak. He looks at you, eyebrows furred. “I was fine, just watched some YouTube. I wasn't up for long.”

He tilts his head, studying you with his nearly impossibly dark eyes. His lips push up, almost like he's pouting, but you watch as confusion takes over his gaze. He squints, and you burrow yourself further into the couch. If his smell is heightened, then he probably–

“You okay?”

You nod too enthusiastically. “Yes, of course. Why?”

He opens his mouth to say something, moves his body as though he'll take a step towards you, but he stops. You hold eye contact for a second, feeling small and exposed among his gaze. But then he nods almost imperceptibly, turning to grab his wet sweater from the entrance. 

“I'm gonna get changed and make us some lunch. Sandwiches?”

You nod.

“Good. Find us something to watch, yeah?”

As soon as he's gone up the stairs, you collapse back onto the couch, pressing your hands against your burning cheeks.

Okay. Okay.

You're probably– definitely – making this weird. Maybe you've read too many werewolf romance novels. Chan is going through something a lot more tangible than turning into a wolf and scampering off into the moonlight, and here you are, being a degenerate as usual. He brought you here because you're his best friend. Because he needs support.

The rut thing… is just a coincidence. Or maybe not even a big deal, or something he wants you to worry about. Yes. That's it. 

Distantly, you hear the shower turn on, and everything from your neck to the crown of your head lights aflame.

The remote chooses that moment to reappear, launching itself from the couch blanket and onto the floor. You snatch it up quickly, flicking on the TV and navigating to Netflix. You need something light. Something stupid. Something to fizzle out the charged energy in the atmosphere.

He'll handle himself… however that may be. You repeat this to yourself as you scroll through the comedy section, eyes blurring at the words in front of you. It's none of your business, anyway. You have one job right now, and that's finding something to watch.

You settle on a cooking show when you hear him coming down the stairs again. You focus on the TV, your mantra echoing around your skull as though you have no brain.

Everything is fine. You're fine. He's fine. 

“Worst Cooks in America?”

You nearly jump out of your skin. He's standing behind the couch, now wearing dry clothes– a zip up sweatshirt and loose sweats. You notice, entirely by accident, that there's no shirt under the sweater. Just plain, exposed skin.

Great. 

You hum out a noncommittal answer, just as he turns and heads to the kitchen, mentioning as he goes that he's using roast beef.  You listen to the sound of the fridge opening and the hum of the toaster as he plugs it in, no doubt solely to put your bread to toast, the same way you've eaten a sandwich since you were eight years old.

You can do this. You can act normal. You're an adult, and you have been for a few years. Things don’t have to be weird just because you now know that your best friend is a delicate, walking bundle of hormones. Chan clearly trusts you enough to have you here, and you're not going to mess that up by being a disaster about it.

You hear him humming in the kitchen, puttering about through the cabinets, the clink of plates on the counter. It's so normal, so Chan, that it almost makes you forget about everything else.

You shake your head, hoping to physically dislodge the memories of the noise he made when you were scratching his neck– the deep, rumbling groan that ran through your sleep-riddled body until stopping to wake you up where you're most sensitive. It was just a noise, you make noises all the time.

When he appears in the doorway with the two plates, all smiles and soft around the edges, you take a deep breath before returning the smile. 

You can do this. You can sit down next to Chan and watch the show and be normal. Everything is fine.

Probably.

… Maybe.

Everything is not fine.

The realization comes later in the night when the darkness from the storm bleeds into the darkness of late evening. It's nearing 10pm, and you and Chan are still seated on the couch together, now on opposing sides, still watching the same cooking show.

Or pretending to.

Chan seemed to be getting worse as the evening progressed. When he first came in from outside, he seemed calmer, less tense, but now he was sitting rigid, wound up like a toy no one would release. He was sweating an almost ridiculous amount, and the zip from his hoodie was pulled down to the middle of his stomach, exposing all the skin underneath.

His breaths were coming in short pants now. He had a steady grip on the fabric of his sweats, and you were almost certain that he'd tear a hole in them with the way he was grabbing them.

You weren't sure what to do.

You had tried nudging him with your foot gently a while ago, but when your skin made contact, he made another low sound in his throat that shot right up your leg and into your core. You pulled your foot away quickly, apologizing, making sure to press your knees together so the scent of arousal wouldn't reach him. 

And that was before he had started panting like… well, a dog. Now you weren't sure you'd be able to reach him through the fog of his own mind even if you screamed right in his face.

You're about to try saying something, anything as the episode that was playing ends, but he shoots up off the couch before you can think of words to say. He's pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes, visibly shaking with the effort of breathing normally.

“Chan,” you start.

He holds up a hand. “I'm– I'm okay,” he breathes. 

He's not. 

“The rain, I think,” he grits out. “Too loud. Too much. You're okay, though?”

Of course Chan would find the time to check on you while going through his own crisis. You sit up a little on the couch, staring at him even though he has his eyes covered. The words are coming out of your mouth before you can even think about what you're saying: “Do I smell okay?”

He grunts. You suddenly understand why cavepeople had so many kids. 

“Smell fine,” he breathes. He slides his hands down his face, fixing his gaze away from you. “You do, I mean. You smell good.”

It dawns on you then that maybe the newly awakened wolf-like part of his consciousness is reacting to your smell because you're a girl, and he's in a rut. Maybe you should leave the room, give him some space?

You're trying to find a way to ask if that's what he needs without giving away what you know, but he fiddles with the zipper of his hoodie again, wanting to tug it down some more. He stops, takes a deep breath, and then drops his hand.

“I think I need a second,” he says. His hands are twitching at his side. “Need my room. Need the quiet, yeah?”

You nod. That's fine. It's for the best anyway, right?  “That's okay. You can come back when you're ready.”

He nods, still not looking at you. There's a moment where he seems to hesitate, but whatever internal war he's having ends quickly, and he basically runs up the stairs. Just before you hear his door close, you hear the sound of his hoodie zipping down all the way.

Heat floods your face as you turn back to the show.

After a while of still failing to really pay attention, you pull your phone out from under the blanket. Despite the pure, unfiltered desire thrumming through your veins, you still want to help Chan. It's bothering you how bothered he is, how helpless he seems. There has to be something you can do for him.

You type, How to help a werewolf in a rut into your search bar, and after realizing very quickly that that's actually the title of an erotica series, you change your search to something more medical sounding.

It takes trial and error, but GLS and Rut Cycles Help seems to give you the best results.

You find a forum on a website dedicated to rare genetic disorders. It’s the one link that seems to have real information, ironically nestled between a fanfiction website and Twitter. 

You stop on a thread that catches your attention:

Non-GLS Roommate Here: Any way I can help with heats?

Not in that way, they write. But my roommate just presented with this disorder and she's absolutely miserable, and I feel so bad. I'm not trying to fuck her, but is there anything I can do to help?? Meds? Chocolate?? Leaving her alone??

There are only a handful of responses, mostly people lol-ing about how non-lycanthropes always think a heat cycle is like a period. One answer sticks out to you:

if it's her first heat, she's probably running a pretty high temp. make her some cold drinks to bring the temperature down and the hormones may follow. that used to work for me. ideally, try to convince her to take a cold shower, but her instincts might be telling her not to. it's a delicate game lol. don't press the shower thing if you don't want her to bite. like, literally. AFAB lycanthropes have a thing for biting idk

It makes sense now why Chan looked better when he came in from the rain. It was, essentially, the cold shower that he needed. You wonder briefly if you could convince him to go back out, but you decide against it. It's dark now, and you don't need him getting hurt.

So, instead, you peel yourself away from the couch and head into the kitchen. There's tons of juice cartons already in the fridge, but you bypass them, instead grabbing the bag of lemons and the carton of blueberries. 

The first time you made lemonade for Chan, the two of you were in fifth grade. You wanted to save money for the new and extremely expensive ride-on jeep that you saw in the store, and the only thing you could think to do was sell lemonade. You forced Chan (who had no interest in the car but wanted to help anyway) to sit down and taste batch after batch of your lemonade.

After he threatened to tell your parents you were trying to poison him, you made one last batch of the lemonade, and on a whim, dumped some blueberry syrup into it. He grumbled as he took the cup, but he couldn't hide his satisfied smile.

“That's the one,” he grinned. 

You never did save the money for the car, but you kept the lemonade recipe anyway. There was nothing your blueberry lemonade couldn't fix.

And you were prepared to add rut fevers to that list.

You dump a ton of ice in Chan's reusable water bottle before pouring the lemonade over it, putting the top on and swirling it around. You take a sip first, nodding in contentment when it nearly freezes the back of your throat.

With your phone in your back pocket and the lemonade in hand, you make your way up the stairs, pausing in front of Chan's bedroom door. A feeling of nervousness washes over you, but you beat it down with a stick. You're just delivering some lemonade. You'll be fine.

“Channie,” your voice is tentative as you knock. “You okay? I brought you a surprise.”

You listen carefully. You can't hear anything on the other side of the door. You don't wanna bang or yell, knowing his ears are probably sensitive already. You knock gently again, really straining your ears to hear.

He must be asleep, you think. You'll just leave the cup on the nightstand for him to find when he wakes up. You turn the doorknob and push open the door and–

Subsequently drop the cup on the floor.

Chan is not asleep.

Chan is very much awake.

He can't see you, no, because his eyes are closed and his head is tipped back against the headboard of his bed. His face and ears are red, and his lips are extra plump. You wonder why until he bites down on his bottom lip, hard.

You let your eyes trail down. He's touching himself.

Oh.

One of his hands is wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously like it's just not enough. The other hand is white knuckling the pillow you slept on last night, bringing it up to his face so he can no doubt inhale whatever leftover scent is on it. 

He has no idea that you're in the room. The pillow is already carrying your scent, so there's no intrusion to his senses. You should look away. You should go, you should…

You can't look away.

His hips are thrusting upwards to meet his hand now, his entire body writhing on the bed like he's trying to find the perfect spot. With his sweater open, you can see the contraction of his ab muscles as he moves, all the hard contours of his body chasing his pleasure. You watch as he twists his wrist, thumb sliding across the slit of his cock and smearing precum down the shaft. 

You hear him make a sound, almost like he's grunting, and then he's mumbling something under his breath. It's low, too low for you to really hear it, but when he speaks again, you definitely understand.

"Babygirl," he groans. He squeezes his cock at the base before stroking it again. "F-fuck, babygirl."

It's then that you squeak, slamming a hand over your mouth almost immediately. His eyes fly open and he shoots up, face panicked, but he doesn't stop moving his hand.

"I'm-- I'm sorry," you manage. "I came to-- I just-- Oh my God."

Chan's eyes are wild as he looks at you. His chest is heaving and his curls are sticking up all over the place. He looks pained and conflicted, likely warring within himself about whether he should stop or not. From the way his ears turn a deep shade of red, you can tell he thinks that he should.

He doesn't, though. He's still jacking himself off, faster and faster, even as he gives you a devastatingly desperate look.

"Fuck," he grunts. "I'm sorry. I can't-- you just smell so fucking good and I–” He pants, looking at you with eyes that can barely stay open. “I can't stop. Babygirl, make me stop."

Your brain is malfunctioning, but the part of it that can still process information has taken notice of what he's saying. You were right earlier. It's your smell. Your smell is driving him crazy because you're a fertile, childbearing aged female. It's not poorly contained last or a bad decision on his part.

It's biology. It's what that primal part of his brain needs.

Your body goes hot as you think of your next words.

"You..." you swallow around nothing. You're wearing socks, but the cold from the floor seems to seep into your feet. "You don't– um. Do you… need help?”

His pupils blow.

"I don't… I don't want to hurt you," he whines, chest heaving as his fist pumps faster. "You shouldn't."

"But I want to help," you breathe. You take a step closer to the bed, legs shaking from the sheer intensity of how fast your arousal hits. "What if I want to help?"

He stops then, staring at you with the same intensity he had last night. You feel stripped, exposed, but you don't feel unsafe.

You take another step closer.

"Chan," you whisper. You're at the foot of the bed now. "What if I want to?"

He makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat.

"I won't… touch you if you don't want me to." You take another step to the side of the bed, feeling somewhat bold under his gaze. "But I'll... I'll let you touch me, if you need. Whatever you want. Just... just tell me what to do."

You're only a couple steps away now. Chan is practically shaking with the effort it takes not to move, to wait for your permission. It's then that you realize he's waiting for you to make the first move, and all of the power shifts to you.

You're standing right next to him now, the two of you locked in an intensely heated gaze. He reaches for you silently with the hand not fisted around his cock, moving slowly like you'll dissolve if he's too eager. When you nod, his hand slides down the length of your arm, fingers interlacing.

Then–

"Please," he whispers. His voice cracks on the lone syllable. "Please, babygirl. I need you.”

He brings the hand he's holding over to his already throbbing cock, dragging your fingertips over the sensitive skin on his tip. His head rolls back again and his hips buck up. You try not to shiver.

"I just... I just need this," he breathes. "Please. I won't touch you, I'll be good."

Maybe it's the desperation in his voice. Maybe it's the way his eyes look so innocent, absolutely contrasting what he's begging you to do. Whatever it is, you let your tongue dart out to wet your lips, throat feeling incredibly dry as you stare down at him.

You wrap your fingers around his cock tentatively, not missing the way his body seems to come alive at your touch, and start moving up and down. He's already so hard, his entire shaft coated in his precum so you can slide up and down with ease. The sounds he's making are going straight to your core, and you can feel the way your underwear is sticking to you.

"Tight," he grunts. "Tighter, please."

You tighten your grip, speeding up a little bit. You feel him thrusting upwards to meet your hand, his hand squeezing yours like he needs the support to ground himself. You let your thumb brush over his tip, using his precum as lube to give him even more friction.

He cries out, back arching. "Yes," he chokes out. "Fuck, babygirl, do that again.”

You do, swiping your thumb across the slit and spreading more precum over him. It makes everything slicker and wetter, and the way you're able to move faster now has him moaning nonsensical little things.

His hips are bucking up harder now, and you watch as his abs tense and release, the hand not holding yours going up to tug on his hair. Your body feels like a loaded stick of dynamite, and you're so careful to keep your hips still, knowing how badly you want friction.

"M’close," he breathes. "Fuck, babygirl. You feel so good."

You pump faster, giving him the extra tightness and friction that he needs. You watch as the hand in his hair drops to his stomach, nails digging into his abs.

You wonder how long he was in here like this, pained and desperate. You try not to think about him moaning your name in the empty room, fucking up into his fist as he thinks about you, chasing your scent on his pillow.

Just because of the rut, your brain supplies. Because it would be absurd to think otherwise.

You glance up at his face. His eyes are screwed shut, lips parted as he pants and grunts and makes other sounds in the air. The look on his face is enough to make you clench around nothing. You've only been hot and bothered for the last 5 minutes and you already feel desperate to cum, so you can't imagine what he's going through.

You let your other hand reach up to cup his face.

"Chan," you murmur. "Look at me.”

He opens his eyes slowly, pupils completely blown as he meets your gaze. You see sweat sliding down the side of his face, and you wonder if it's from his fever or his pleasure.

"You're okay, babyboy," you whisper. His cock jumps in your hand at that. "You can cum, you know. You don't have to hold back."

"Wanna--wanna be good," he grunts. You feel him start to thrust faster. "Don't wanna hurt you."

"You're doing so good, Channie. You're not hurting me."

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before you drop your hand from his cheek and slide it down the column of his throat, letting your nails scratch across his skin. His reaction is immediate, body spasming as he groans.

"Shit," he cries. "Yes, right– right there, Oh my God."

"Yeah?" You scrape your nails across the base of his throat again, making sure to be a bit rougher this time.

He nods quickly, the grip on your hand tightening. You take your other hand off of him, drinking up the sound of his whine before you slide it underneath his hoodie, feeling his chest up. You scrape your nails over his pecs, making him jolt a little.

"C'mon, Channie," you coo. "You're okay. I want you to cum for me."

He lets out a strangled sound, hips bucking up into your fist even faster now. His head falls back again and you see the muscles in his neck strain.

"Please," he chokes out. "I need-- I need--"

You slide your hand from his chest back up to his neck, finding the spot from earlier that made him make that deliciously memorable noise. When you drag your nails across it, his hips stutter in their rhythm, and that's the only warning you have before his entire body is convulsing with pleasure.

"Oh, fuck," he grunts. "Babygirl, fuck–”

His cock pulses in your hand as he cums, releasing all over himself and your fingers. You stroke him through it, gently moving your hand up and down until he's spent.

Then, there's silence.

You're not sure what you expect. Maybe for him to turn over and go to sleep, or for him to act bashful and apologetic, letting you know it won't happen again.

You certainly aren't expecting for him to grip your hips and lift you up onto the bed. Or for him to gently push you down on your back. Or for the desperation in his face to be replaced with something harder, something more in control and dominating as he says, “Please let me eat your pussy, babygirl.”

You almost choke.

You feel like you should protest. Tell him he doesn't have to, that this is already more than you thought you would ever get. But then he's sliding his hands up under your shirt, and the only thing your mouth can form is a moan.

He's never seen you naked, always a respectable gentleman, but there's no hesitation or uncertainty in the way his hands move around your body. He's not tentative and gentle like you expected; he's touching and pinching and running his nails along your skin like he's done this before, like he knows all your spots. He reaches your chest, where you have no bra, and rubs his thumb across your already hardened nipple. Your back arches and your legs fall open for him with a groan, letting him slot himself in the now empty spot.

He pulls his hand away, moving up to your face and cupping your jaw so you can look at him. He's looking down at you with dark eyes.

"Please?”

He's asking, you know, but there's nothing gentle in the way he's looking at you. You nod as best as you can, and he brings his hand down from your jaw to your chin, fingers sliding over your lips. You feel him nudge his thumb against your bottom lip, and you take the hint.

You open your mouth for him, letting him slide his thumb inside and rub it across your tongue. He's looking down at you intensely as you swirl your tongue around his finger, and when you suck on it a little, he lets out a grunt.

"Fuck," he breathes. He pulls his thumb away, watching as a string of saliva connects it to your lips. "You're gonna let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You nod again, but he gives a little humorless chuckle, head tilting at you.

"Use your words babygirl."

"Yes." Your voice is quiet. "Yes, I want you to.”

He stares at you for another moment. You watch his eyes dart across your face, your body, before settling on your lips again. He leans down then, hovering just above you as he licks his own lips.

"Gonna kiss you now," he murmurs. "That okay?"

You fear you look stupid, the way you're just staring up at him, jaw slacked and eyes going in and out of focus. You nod anyway, trying to act normal.

Or as normal as you can, under the circumstances.

He doesn't waste any more time after that. He leans down the rest of the way, pressing his lips against yours. It's slow at first, a sweet little thing that makes you feel warm and safe. You sigh into it, eyes fluttering closed.

But then he licks a stripe across your bottom lip, and you let out a pathetic little whimper, lips falling open just enough for him to slot his tongue in your mouth. He kisses you like he needs it to breathe. It's desperate, burning, hot and filthy. He's licking into your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lips. You try to press your thighs together again, but his strong, muscular slab of body is between them, forcing them open.

His hands slide down your sides and settle on your hips. Your shorts do nothing as a barrier, and you feel every modicum of heat in his hands. He slips those warm hands into the waistband of both your shorts and panties, sliding them down your body antagonizingly slowly.

He sits back on his knees then, pulling them both all the way off before tossing them to the side. Then he leans forward again, pressing wet kisses to the skin right below your belly button.

"Chan," you breathe.

"S'okay baby," he mumbles against your skin. You feel a new wave of wetness flow through you. How could your usual nickname be even hotter with half of it missing?

Then he's moving his mouth down, down, down, and you feel him pressing his nose to your slit.

"Oh god," you whine.

"I know," he murmurs. You feel his tongue press against your clit, and your entire body spasms. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your legs and squeezing your thighs to hold them open. "I know babygirl.”

He licks you again, making you groan out loud. You can't help but bring one hand up to his curls, weaving your fingers through them and tugging on them like you've always wanted to. He responds by moaning, the vibrations shooting straight to your core.

You feel his tongue dip lower, spreading your wetness around. He dips it into your entrance, tongue fucking you at such a languid pace you feel like you'll fall apart. You hear him groan against your cunt again, and his hands tighten on your thighs.

"So wet, baby," he murmurs. "Taste so good.”

He presses his tongue to your clit again, and you pull on his hair harder. He grunts, and you feel him rutting up against the bed, his cock hard again, chasing some form of relief. 

"Please baby," he mumbles against you. "Want you to cum for me. Please."

You know yourself, know what gets you going and what really makes you cum, so you want to tell him that it's going to take more than this, that you're not there yet, but you don't get a chance to before he's sliding a finger inside of you, curling it up and finding your spot with such accuracy your vision goes white.

You feel him suck on your clit then, swirling his tongue around it as he slides another finger inside of you. You tug on his hair again, not even realizing that you're grinding up against his face.

You feel yourself getting closer, chasing the release you've been desperate for since he pulled you onto the bed. His fingers curl inside of you again, pressing that spot and making you scream out his name.

"Yeah?" Chan groans against you, voice hoarse and desperate. "Like that? S'okay baby, let go."

"Chan," you choke. You're so, so close. "Chris. Chris.”

He moans at that, speeding up his fingers and moving his tongue even faster.  He's rocking himself up against the mattress with more urgency now, panting and moaning with his mouth pressed to your cunt.

"C'mon babygirl," he mumbles. "Need you to cum. C'mon, please. Need it."

He presses his fingers into that spot again, and you're gone. You arch up off of the bed as you cum, his name ripping itself from your throat as he fucks you through it. You feel your cunt pulsing around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. He keeps licking, his moans sending vibrations straight up your spine until you're over sensitive, tugging on his hair for him to back away. He does, but not before pressing wet kisses to the inside of your thigh.

He sits up then, his hair sticking up all over the place from where you've been pulling on it. He's sweaty and breathing hard, his lips swollen and red from where you were kissing him. You feel his eyes roam over your body, and you know that if you look down, you'll see how your skin is flushed from your ears down to your chest.

He's still sporting a semi, but his focus isn't on that anymore. He gathers you up in his hands, pulling you with him to the top of the bed and settling you with him on the pillows. He presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you to rest your head on his chest.

"Sleep," he says into your hair. You notice how his body temperature has dropped-- he doesn't feel like an inferno anymore.

You're too tired to do anything but whine gently at the way he's holding you, too relaxed and spent to say anything. You feel sleep pulling at your eyes as he fixes your shirt over you carefully.

"Ah, shit," he murmurs. "Gotta clean you up. Then I'll come right back, yeah?”

You nod, trying to fight off sleep just a little longer. He presses a kiss to your hair before sliding out of the bed, going to the bathroom and coming back with a warm washcloth. You feel him wipe you down gently, and you mumble out something that might've been a thank you.

He takes the washcloth back to the bathroom, coming back to join you in bed. He pulls you back on top of him, settling the blankets over the two of you.

You're asleep before he can even kiss your forehead again.

When you wake up in the morning, you do your usual pause to see what does and doesn't hurt. You're mostly pain free, you realize sleepily, except for a dull ache in your hips and knees and a pleasant soreness in your–

Oh shit.

Everything slams back into you at once. The lemonade, Chan, him begging for you in more ways than one. It feels like you've been doused in cold water and tossed off of a bridge.

You go to sit up, but when you make an attempt to move, you feel an impossibly heavy weight around your midsection. Said weight snores a bit, and you realize that it's Chan's arm draped across you.

He's sleeping soundly next to you, hair still ruffled and unruly from where you were pulling it, lips still slightly swollen and red. The blankets are pulled up to his chin, hiding his body from view.

Your face burns as you try to really remember everything that happened last night, either to orient yourself through the brain fog or torture yourself. You're not entirely sure. Chan was... he was in rut, you knew that much. And you offered to help. Then he ate you out and gave you what was probably the most intense orgasm of your life, and then you fell asleep.

Typical stuff. Of course.

The memories are still there, but the reality of the situation has you panicking. His eyes are still closed, so you don't have to deal with the embarrassment of him catching you staring, but you're frozen anyway.

You're immediately hit with the overwhelming realization that you just made a mistake. There's no way you can possibly continue to keep your feelings for Chan a secret after this, no way that you can pretend you don't know what his amazingly deft fingers feel like inside of you. How would you ever be able to look him in the face again?

A vibrating sound pulls you from your spiral. For a second, you wonder if it's coming from Chan, but you recognize that, no matter what genetic issue he has, a person cannot vibrate. 

The sound is actually coming from just off the side of the bed, where your shorts and panties lay discarded. You reach over and pluck your phone from the back pocket, turning it over to see an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen.

You're about to send it to voicemail when your heart sinks like lead along with recognition in your chest. It's the genetic clinic.

You're untangling yourself from Chan's arms in record speed, shirking your shorts on and stepping into the hallway. He doesn't stir, thankfully, but you still close the door gently behind you anyway.

"Hello?" You breathe.

The nurse on the other side of the line greets you enthusiastically, and after confirming you are the intended recipient of the phone call, she asks you to hold while she transfers you to the doctor. You wait anxiously for a minute or two, pacing your way to the kitchen island and picking at the skin around your fingers while you listen to the generic hold music.

"Good morning," the doctor says as she comes on the line. She, too, sounds far too chipper. "I apologize for the wait, I was in the middle of rounds when your nurse flagged me down."

"That's okay," you say. Pleasantries feel superficial right now.

"Right, so. We did get some of your preliminary genetic results back," she says. You can hear pages being turned on the other side of the line. "I wanted to let you know that, unfortunately--"

The floor falls from under your feet.

"-- You did test positive for Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Classical type."

You can't really hear anything else she's saying. Something about coming back in, maybe. About starting physical therapy. Taking care of yourself. You feel sick, like you might pass out. Or throw up. 

You manage to push through the rest of the conversation, your voice sounding far away even to your own ears. She lets you know that she's sending follow-up information to your email, says that it's important to have support at such a time like this, and you make a very non committal grunt of acknowledgement before ending the phone call. Your phone chatters on the island, the sound echoing in the empty space.

You can't even form a concept of a thought before your chest feels tight, like there's a rubber band stretching across your ribs and pulling taut. You skin suddenly feels like there are a million and one tiny sets of feet thrumming underneath it. It's too hot. Your shirt is choking you. It's all suddenly too much at once: last night with Chan, the diagnosis, the way you're feeling an ache building in your back.

You need to move. You need to get out.

You're up the stairs before you can really process it, standing in front of your suitcase and rifling through it with speed. You find a pair of sweats and what you’re almost certain is Chan's old hoodie, but you toss them on quickly anyway.

The air is crisp when it hits your face a few moments later. It's exactly what you need. The path around the cabin is familiar– you've walked it countless times during family trips and weekend getaways. You know exactly where to step to avoid the mud, which trees mark the loop back to the house.

You walk until your legs burn, until the tears on your face dry in the cold air. Your mind races with everything and nothing at once.

Classical EDS. Your PCP was right about it being a connective tissue disorder. EDS explains the tummy aches, the racing heart, the migraines, and most obviously, the joint pain. There's no cure. Just management. Just a lifetime of being careful, of physical therapy, of putting in insane amounts of effort to make sure your joints don't fucking disintegrate.

You find this to be the most manageable of all the issues at the moment. 

But Chan…

God, Chan. What were you thinking? He was in rut, vulnerable and needing comfort, and you just... what? Offered yourself up like some kind of heathen? Let him touch you in ways you've only dreamed about, knowing full well it would change everything?

This feels like the biggest issue to you, you realize when you pause on a tree stump. Because if you lose Chan, from something you initiated, you will lose everything else. He is the center of your universe, and everything revolves around him. You can't lose him, especially not over your own stupidity.

You think about going back. Talking to him. Maybe trying to convince him that you're fine, that he doesn't have to worry about you. That you don't like him like that, and you were just being a good friend and helping.

But then you remember his face when he came, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he moaned out your name. The way his fingers felt inside of you. How good he smelled.

You'll never be able to forget any of it now, you realize. And it will tear you apart if you lose him because of it.

You realize you've been walking much longer than intended when you catch a glimpse of the position of the sun. The morning chill has given way to a warmer temperature, though your face still feels numb from the wind. Your joints are definitely making themselves known now.

You suppose you may as well head back, even if you don't have any idea what you’re going to do when you have to face Chan. You can't stay out and freeze.

As you round the final bend that leads back to the cabin, you see him.

Chan is standing on the front porch, shirtless despite the cold, his hands visibly shaking at his sides. He's looking in the opposite direction, but you see when your scent hits him, because he whips around and his eyes lock onto you immediately. There's a look on his face that makes your chest ache– he looks terrified, like he's been coming apart at the seams.

You both freeze in your spots, an echo of that moment at the clinic. The silence stretches between you, heavy with everything unsaid. You notice then that his eyes are red, not the same red tint you now recognize from his rut, no. This is the red tint from that day he had to drive you to the hospital.

He's been crying.

“Where–” his voice is labored. “Babygirl. Where have you been?”

"I just..." you gesture vaguely at the path behind you. "I needed some air."

He takes a step forward, then seems to think better of it, stopping himself in his tracks. "You weren't... you were gone when I woke up. Your phone was on the counter, I couldn't... I didn't know where…”

He makes a pained noise in his chest, and then you see his entire face crumble. He pulls one of his arms up to his face, covering his eyes as you hear him start to cry.

Your heart breaks in two.

You rush to him as quickly as your protesting legs will allow, taking the stairs two at a time until you're in front of him. You reach up to gently pull his arm down, but he jerks away, a wounded noise escaping from his mouth.

"No," he cries. "You shouldn't–  don't touch me. I'm sorry.”

“Chris,” you breathe, hoping to cut through his emotional fog. “Chris, please, look at me.”

“Tell me what I did.”

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“What did I do wrong?” His voice cracks around the words. “Last night, I couldn't… control myself. And you were so good to me and then– you were gone.”

"Chan, no." You reach for him again, and this time he lets you pull his arm down. His face is streaked with tears, those big brown eyes red and swollen. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He shakes his head violently, words tumbling out around hiccups. "Then why did you leave? Why didn't you wake me up? I woke up and you were gone and I couldn't– your scent was gone and I couldn't–"

A sob cuts him off. You grab his hand and tug him towards the door. "Let's go inside. Please? It's freezing out here.”

He lets you tug him inside, at least just until you can close the door. You try to bring him over to the couch, but he's stubborn, keeping his feet planted where they are. He won't look at you, keeping his gaze downcast no matter how much you tug on his arm. You let go after a tense moment, sighing and wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Chan. The clinic called,” you say softly. “Thats why I left. My results came back.”

His head snaps up at that, understanding settling over his face. “You… did you test positive for–”

“Classical Ehlers Danlos,” you supply.

He looks like he'll cry all over again, reaching his hand out to you before pulling it back to his side. He squeezes his hands in and out of fists a few times before he shakes his head, tilting his head back until he's staring up at the ceiling.

“I'm so sorry,” he breathes. “Last night… I shouldn't have–”

“Stop, please,” you cut him off, voice hoarse in the quiet. You've run out of energy. “You didn't do anything wrong.”

“No, I did everything wrong. I thought I could handle it, thought it wouldn't be too much. Everyone told me it was a bad idea but I didn't want to listen, thought I could control myself.”

You feel bile rising in your throat. “What?”

He shakes his head again. “I shouldn't have said yes.”

He murmurs it, but the cabin is dead silent, so there's no way you don't hear it. There's no way you can misinterpret what he means either. Last night. He shouldn't have said yes when you asked if he needed help.

You take a step back, and you watch his face crumble a bit more. “Right.” Your voice sounds hollow. “It's fine. It was a mistake anyway."

"A mistake?" Now he looks confused through his tears. "No, that's not–"

"It's okay, Chan." You force a smile that feels like it might crack your face in half. You need to end this conversation now so you can go cry in your bed. "We can just forget it happened. You were in rut, I was... available. It's fine."

"Available." He deadpans. His gaze loses some of the previous softness. "Is that what you think? That I just... used you because you were there?”

You find yourself backing away towards the stairs, already mentally checked out. “Isn't it? You said it yourself last night, it was just my scent.”

His face flashes through so many emotions, you're not sure how you would begin parsing through them. He settles on something that looks like a mix of thinly veiled disgust and anger. He fixes his posture until he's back up to his full height now, brown eyes ablaze.

You decide to turn away from him fully at that moment. Whatever this is, this half argument you're having, it can wait until you've taken a good nap. You prepare to climb the stairs, keeping one hand on the railing and one foot on a stair.

That's about as far as you make it before you feel the unmistakable heat of Chan behind you. You stifle back the gasp that threatens to spill when he presses himself right up against your back, head dipped down so he's right by your ear.

“Ask me why,” he breathes. 

You shiver at the feeling of his breath on your ear, and your entire body lights up in record time. You've forgotten how to speak, maybe.

So, you eloquently stutter out a simple, "What?"

He slides a hand around you, reaching from the base of your back all the way to your stomach, pulling you closer to him. “Babygirl. I said, ask me why.”

You swallow thickly. His voice is still hoarse and low from the crying, and it sends a shiver up your spine that rocks your body so hard, you think you would fall if not for the strong arm around you.

"Why," you breathe. The word has no conviction in it. You're getting dizzy.

He leans even closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your outer ear. "Because," he murmurs. "Yes, your scent smells so fucking good. So sweet and warm. But I don't want you because you smell good, baby. I want you because you smell like you're mine.”

You whimper involuntarily at that, and you feel him inhale sharply. His other hand reaches up to hold your chin, tilting your head up towards him. You're looking at each other now, his eyes blown wide and his pupils blown so black, there's barely any brown left.

"Do you understand me, babygirl?" He's breathing hard against you. "Even under the harsh scent of your pain, or the saccharine scent of when you're happy, something in you always smells like you belong to me. Do you know why?"

Your knees feel weak. Not from pain, but because of whatever is happening right now. You let out a pathetic mewl in Chan's hold and watch his nostrils flare. 

"Because you are mine. My mate. You hear me, baby? Mine.”

Then he's tilting your head to the side and kissing down the column of your throat, nipping just hard enough to send electricity through your body. You whine, unable to stop the way your body arches into his touch. 

He makes a low, rumbling sound in his chest, pulling away just long enough to look you in your eyes again. "Wasn't using you," he huffs, saying the word use like it leaves a nasty flavor in his mouth. "I needed you, needed your scent around me to make it better. I couldn't control myself, baby."

He spins you around so that you're facing him now, hands still wrapped around your waist. You think he's about to kiss you, but you see a wave of clarity and seriousness push everything else to the side.

“They asked me at the clinic,” he starts, shuffling with you in his arms until you're back in the living room with him. “If something happened to a family member, or if I had a girlfriend who was hurt.”

You're hanging on to every word, unable to look away from his eyes.

“I told them no to both, but I told them about the hospital, about how you called me crying cause you were in so much pain, and you just kept passing out on me. I told them about how scared I was that if I left the hospital, I would come back and you wouldn't be there. You'd be gone. It was ripping me apart.”

You reach up to touch his face without thinking, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. He leans into the touch like he can't help himself.

“I presented because I wanted to protect you down to my very DNA. I was going so crazy about you that my body needed a way to protect me– protect you.”

“Chan,” you breathe.

“They said my inner wolf, that primal part of me, recognized it as my mate being in pain, and I was powerless to stop it. It's you, babygirl. It's always been you.”

The hopeless romantic in your heart is giddy. 

You think about how you'd tried to touch him during the drive up, how he'd pulled his hands away like he was in pain. You supposed maybe he was. Going through his first rut, stuck in an enclosed space with his mate, unable to do anything about it.

You can't imagine the amount of restraint it probably took him to remain normal. The sheer thought of it alone has you blinking back up at him, looking right in his eyes.

With the eye contact, you feel his body swell microscopically, like he's flaxing every muscle so he can look bigger, more threatening, but he is neither of those things to you.

To you he is just Chan.

You're rising up on your toes before you even know what's happening, hand sliding up Chan's neck to pull him down towards you and catching his lips in a hot, burning kiss. 

The hand around your waist tighten's its grip, slotting you even further against his body.

It feels like home. It feels like safety.

You feel his growing bulge press against you, and you hum into the kiss. 

It feels like perfection.

"M'Sorry," he slurs against your mouth. He makes no effort to pull away. "Still in rut. Sensitive."

You say nothing, sliding your free hand down his chest, over his stomach until you reach what you're looking for. You rest your hand over it softly, not grabbing or pressing, but he responds like you do, grunting and rutting up against your hand as he starts panting.

"Babygirl," he groans. "Baby, please."

You start moving your hand in earnest now, cupping his bulge through his sweats as he grinds up against you. His eyes flutter closed and he pulls away from the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours.

"God, I wanna fuck you so bad," he grunts. "Wanna be inside. Wanna cum inside you so deep you'll never forget who you belong to. Make myself your alpha."

It's insane how your body reacts to that. You feel your clit jump in your underwear. The Alpha/Omega thing wasn't real-- or at least wasn't based on any science with the condition, but the way Chan speaks, the way his grunts sound so close to your ear, you believe it could be.

"You're gonna let me, right?" He whines. "Please? I'll make you feel so good. Been so good for me already baby. Just wanna make you cum on my cock."

Your moan gets caught in your throat when he slides a hand down your body to grip the swell of your ass. Between that and feeling him, rock solid against you, your entire body comes back to life with desperate, almost delirious need.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, Channie, please. Want you. Please."

His chest vibrates with a growl and he wastes no time pushing you back until you're laying against the couch. He kneels over you, large hand reaching down and palming himself through his sweats.

He notices what you're wearing at that moment. He reaches his free hand down, gripping the material of your– his – hoodie. It's entirely too big for you, even when you're standing, but laying back like this, the material absolutely dwarfs you. 

He must like the sight of it, because you watch him grip himself tight.

"Fuck, babygirl. You don't know what you do to me. Wearing my clothes? Are you even wearing anything under that?"

Feeling bold, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater up, just enough so that he can see the expanse of skin right under it. When he looks back at your face, you give him an innocent expression, eyes wide and blinking.

He doesn't even bother taking anything off, just pulls his cock out of his sweats and starts stroking himself again. You feel your mouth go dry just from the sight of it– hard and flushed red, precum dripping from the tip. You grip the material of his sweater tighter.

“Gonna be good, baby?" he breathes. "Wanna get off like this."

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. He looks fucking delicious above you, cock in hand as he strokes himself faster now, moaning at the way you look underneath him.

"Gonna make myself cum on your stomach," he grunts. "Mark you. Then I'll fuck you until you're screaming, so everyone knows who you belong to.”

You feel your cunt throbbing in your underwear. You cant help the way you whine out his name, the way you squeeze your thighs together to try to get some relief. He looks like he's going to explode just from hearing you say his name like that.

He leans over you, bracing one hand on the back of the couch by your head, effectively caging you in. You can feel how his muscles flex under your hands as you touch him, sliding your palms up and down his chest. You find your eyes locked onto his hand, watching the way he moves up and down.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you," he breathes. "Fucked my fist so many times wishing it was you.”

You wrap your arms around him, one hand going up to that special spot at the base of his neck. As you graze your nails against it, he turns his face, pressing his nose into the pulse point on your wrist, inhaling you and your smell.

He starts moaning louder, breath fanning across your arm as he gets closer and closer to the edge. You're so turned on from it, you feel like you might actually cum without a hand to your body.

"Babygirl," he grunts. "Baby, fuck. I'm close."

You pull him down to you, pressing his face right into your neck. You can feel how his eyelids flutter as his eyes roll back, the arm by your head straining with how tightly he's gripping the couch.

"Gonna let your alpha cum on your stomach, baby? Mark you?”

You nod quickly. You feel him lean in even more, brushing his lips against the soft part of your throat where he no doubt can feel your erratic pulse. You right into his ear, and then he's groaning out your name and nipping at your throat hard, all teeth and tongue and need as he spills all over you.

He makes sure to press his body flush against you while he rides out his orgasm, so that his cum splatters all over your stomach. He grinds up against you with his hips, making sure his cock slides along the fabric of his sweater. You watch him get lost in it, eyes screwed shut as he mouths at your throat, panting and moaning through his high.

Then he stills, just a bit. He pulls away from your neck, his pupils still completely blown as he looks down at you.

You're not sure what he sees when he does. You know sweat is starting to stick to your skin, plastering little bits of your hair to your face. Despite not being touched yet, you feel absolutely cock drunk if only on the sight of Chan alone.

You can't tell if that's what he sees, but whatever it is, it makes his still-hard cock jump against where it rests on your stomach. He's pushing himself up to sit on his knees before you even remember your own name.

He slides down the couch until his face is level with your hips. He pulls the waistband of your sweats down just enough for your cunt to be exposed, and then he's leaning forward, dragging his tongue along your slit.

"Fuck," you cry, body jolting. "Chan."

He doesn't respond verbally, just hums and pulls back enough to stare at your dripping cunt. You find your hips bucking up when he lets his mouth water just enough to drool right on you.

He dives back down to your cunt and pushes his tongue inside of you. You feel him moan against you as he licks you, slow and deliberate. You can hear how wet you are, and you feel yourself throb around his tongue when you hear it.

"I kept noticing your scent change," he says against your clit. He gives it a few kitten licks before diving down and flattening his tongue on you, licking and slurping you from end to end. "Sometimes, I would look at you, or touch you, and you smelled like citrus. Couldn't figure out why."

He takes those absurdly plump lips and suctions them around your clit, one strong arm coming to hold you down when you arch up off the bed.  "Thats just your scent when you're aroused," he continues, nudging his nose against your clit. "Smells so fucking good."

You're certain you might be delirious at this point. The way Chan eats you out feels so much better than anything else you've ever felt, and his tongue has you hurdling to the crest of your orgasm faster than you can believe.

"Oh. Ohh," you whimper. "Channie, m'so close."

"That's my good girl," he murmurs. His lips are still right against your clit. "You're so perfect baby. Let me make you feel good. Want you to cum for me."

He slides his tongue back inside of you, and you feel a hand come up to play with your clit. You're so dangling off the edge, so ready to jump with the right push. You just need a little more, but then you feel a finger slide inside of you and crook up.

You're gone. You cum with a shout of Chan's name, arching up off of the couch as your body shakes from the intensity of it all. He licks you through it, pulling away only when you start to whine and wiggle around from the sensitivity.

He sits back on his knees again, watching you pant on the couch as you try to collect yourself. You look over at him when you catch your breath, and you see him licking his fingers clean.

He leans over you again, and you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down. You don't bother asking first, just slot his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. It's absolutely wet and filthy, the flavor of yourself bursting over your tongue when he swipes into your mouth. You suck on his tongue, hard, and he groans into your mouth, hands sliding up under the sweater to touch your bare skin.

"Gonna fuck you good now," he grunts against your lips. You whine and press your body into his. "Okay, baby? Do you think you're ready for me?"

"Yes, Chris," you sigh. He pulls away from the kiss gently to stare at you. Despite the haze of his rut, you can see a hesitancy in his eyes, like there's something he wants but he's not saying. It takes all of two seconds for you to connect the dots.

"Please, Alpha?" you whine.

That seems to be the magic word, because he's lifting you up into his arms and standing up from the couch immediately. In a split second, you're pressed up against the wall next to the TV. You're very thankful for the layer between your bare skin and the freezing cold wall.

He wraps your legs around his waist, and suddenly you can feel the heat of his erection right on you. He presses his cock between your folds, holding you tight while he ruts up into you. 

You're so wet that the head catches against your entrance every so often, making both of you moan into each others mouths.

"Thank you, baby," he murmurs, uncharacteristically soft at a moment like this. "'m so grateful. So--" He lets out a pant, eyes rolling back as he lets his head drop back too. "Fuck."

You know Chan well enough to know what he's trying to say. He's thanking you for accepting him, for coming back to him, for letting him be vulnerable.

How could you not? He was so distressed by your wellbeing that a distant part of his DNA woke up to protect you. He ignored his doctor's orders to take you on this trip because he knew you needed it. He was content to suffer through his first rut in silence if it meant just taking care of you.

How could you not love all that he is?

You learn forward and nip him right as his pulse point, and his whole body jerks. You know werewolf lore, know that a bite there means a forever. You don't have the same genetic syndrome, but God do you want to be in his arms forever. You don't even feel like you need to question it.

His eyes, heavily lidded, find their way to your face. "You know what that bite means, right baby?" His voice is hoarse, and even when he clears his throat at your responding nod, it doesn't get better. "You wanna mark me there, babygirl? Make me yours?”

You nod, sliding your mouth up his throat until your lips are pressed right against his ear. You slide your tongue over his lobe and tug on it. "Please alpha. Wanna show everyone who you belong to."

He snakes a hand up your back until he finds your hair, fingers tangling in the roots as he grips, pulling your head back. "I mark you first," he grits out. "Let alpha take care of you."

You can't help the way you go pliant, letting your head fall to one side just enough to expose your neck to him. You watch his eyes and make your expression as wanting as possible.

He groans at that, finally pulling you away from the wall just enough so that he can line himself up. He pushes his tip right into you, and you press your forehead against his, the mixed sounds of your breathing being the only thing filling the atmosphere.

"I love you," he sighs. Your heart squeezes in your chest. "Gonna take such good care of you always, yeah?"

"I love you more, Chan," is your breathy reply.

"I'll give you everything," he sighs. "Everything you want. I just need you to come on my cock first, yeah? The alpha's got you. I got you."

Then he's pushing in slowly, and you both sigh as he bottoms out. You cling to him, pressing your face into his neck as he fucks you slowly into the wall.

He keeps it slow, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your forehead and hair, telling you how good you feel, how perfect you are for him, how you were made just for him. You're already feeling the pressure building up in your stomach again, barely paying attention to what he's saying. 

"Gonna breed this tight little pussy," he murmurs at some point. You do hear that, and you clench hard around him, making him groan.

"Oh fuck," he gasps. "You want my seed, huh? Want me to fuck my seed in you, angel?"

Your walls around him again, swallowing him up. You know you can't get pregnant-- birth control and all of that-- but the idea of him filling you up has your body begging for more. You dig your nails into the skin of his back and you feel him throb inside of you. He makes a sound between a grunt and a moan, slamming his hips into yours, cock sliding into you deeper than before.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Fuck, m'so close already. Think you can you cum with me angel? Hm?"

You nod, clinging to his shoulders as you bounce up and down on his cock. It feels so good, too good, and you're already so close yourself.

"Chris," you whine. "I'm– fuck, I'm close."

"I know, babygirl," He sounds so wrecked. "I'm right behind you. You can cum for me baby. Cum for your alpha. Want you to cum on me, please."

He presses a kiss to your neck, right over your pulse point, and that's all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge. You cry out his name, letting him fuck you through it while your cunt pulsates around him. You feel him twitch in you, a deep guttural moan leaving his lips as he slams into you one last time, spilling all his cum inside of you.

He bites you then.

Its not painful, not really, because he doesn't break skin. His teeth aren't sharp enough for that. The bite is more performative than anything, but it sends a shockwave through your body.

 It's a strange feeling, almost like your blood is simmering under your skin, but you're so lost in the bliss of your orgasm that you don't even care. It feels right, anyhow. Like the final missing piece to a puzzle you've been spending a lifetime constructing.

He stays there for a second, sucking a bruise into your neck. His hands are shaking, but he's holding you tight enough that you don't even worry about falling.

Then, he licks the spot on your neck where he bit, soothing whatever pain he might've caused. He pulls away from you just enough to press a kiss to your lips, still holding you up with his cock in you.

"I love you," he whispers. "My mate. Mine."

You reach a hand up to touch his neck, and he tilts his head to the side, giving away to the instincts thrumming under his skin. You take your fingers and trace them along the column of his throat, stopping just under his Adam's apple. 

You don't say anything at first, just lean forward and press your lips against the same spot. Your bite is more restrained, more gentle. He hisses out a strangled sound, and you would assume it was pain if you didn't feel his cock pulse in you.

When you pull away, you look at him, a small smile on both of your incredibly fucked out faces. You lean forward and press a little kiss to his lips.

"I love you too," is your quiet reply. "My mate."

As promised, he's so gentle with you afterwards, cleaning you up and giving you your medication when he scents your hips are about to ache. The entire ordeal is so familiar, so cozy, you wonder how you could've ever let yourself believe that Chan didn't love you too.

Hours later, when you're cuddled together on the couch, dozing off in his lap, you hear him whispering something against your hair. Your mind is so muddled with sleep you can barely make out the words he's saying.

You string together something about mates, something about how he'll protect you, how you're his everything, how he loves you so much.

It doesn't really matter though. You know already, because he's yours, and you're his.

His everything.

[before-it-felt-like-a-sin]

Lottienat x reader headcanons

No one requested this but I've decided they're my wives and I have a lot of thoughts about them.

--------------------------------------------------------

Lottie and Nat were definitely together first, but they both individually had a crush on you prior to getting together. And they didn't realize until one of them (probably Lottie) brought it up in passing

Then the two of them have a little chat and decide that they both want you in their relationship

You're loosely friends with both of them, like you all never hang out but you do eat lunch together and talk during class

When Lottie and Natalie first got together you were so jealous because somehow the two girls you had crushes on started dating each other

You pretend to be literally so chill about it, like saying you're happy for them a total of one time and never bringing it up again, but everyone except Nat and Lottie can tell you're pissed

One day Nat just starts high-key flirting with you, and you're very confused because you can tell it's flirting, but she's literally with Lottie. Like you saw them holding hands that morning

You brush off the whole interaction until the next day Lottie starts flirting with you. She's a lot more subtle about it, but she's still clearly flirting.

This goes on for like a week until you're like "intervention time" and pull them aside after school one day like "hey why tf do you keep flirting with me"

They're both like silent for a sec before Lottie tells you that they both have a crush on you

And you're all "okay and? Y'all are together?" Not exactly understanding what's happening.

So Lottie has to be like "Yeah, and we'd like you to be together with us."

you tell them you need a minute and just leave. it takes you a few days to warm up to the idea, and then another few days to work up the courage to tell them that you like them back.

almost immediately, they're both all over you, which you aren't opposed to but it def throws you off

Lot is a lot touchier than Natalie. Like any physical touch is generally initiated by Lottie. BUT when Nat has a particularly bad day she's all over both of you.

They both love giving gifts but it's very different for both of them. Like Nat will find small things that reminds her of you and Lottie while Lottie is the type to hear you say you like something one time and it's yours forever

I'm back on my "Nat can cook" grind. She cooks for y'all like nightly bc Lottie can't cook at all and you can make like... mac n cheese

But it's a fair trade bc Natalie hates doing dishes. Like it physically pains her. So Lottie does dishes and you clean the kitchen. It works out really well

As a dyed hair girlie I definitely think Lottie would help both you and Nat dye your hair. Once she suggested the two of you go to a salon and she'd pay for it, and you and Natalie were very offended

Nat was like "it's not as punk/grunge to get it done professionally" while you pulled the "oh so you hate us and don't want to spend time with us" card

Lottie never brought it up again and HAPPILY helped you dye your hair from then on

Everyone fucking says this but sleepovers at Lottie's house. No one's ever home to tell you to leave and Lottie likes the company. Not to mention that Nat will take any excuse to not have to sleep in her trailer.

Nat makes mixtapes for both of you and will leave them in your backpack/random spots in your house. She never actually hands them to either of you.

Canonically they both smoke, so you'll pass around a cigarette or a blunt depending on the day.

You're used to one or both of them showing up to your house unannounced because they're feeling lonely

Natalie gets annoyed when Lottie's parents are home and the two of you have to leave because the Matthews' have some fancy gala

It's become a routine for you and Nat to bother the hell out of Lottie for those stupid parties. It got so bad that she ended up convincing her parents to let her take the two of you

You were never invited to another one of those parties

They make you go to every single home game, no matter how early/late they are. They're convinced that you're a good luck charm, and they both look so happy when they see you in the stands that you can't say no to them

Whenever they win you all go for ice cream or some other sort of treat

Lottie plans and pays for almost every dinner date that you go on. These don't happen often, though, because they're always to fancy restaurants that need a months notice for a reservation

You and Nat end up planning the normal dates, things like movies or concerts

Whenever you're out shopping Lottie goes full sugar mommy. If you even look at something for too long she's buying it for you. Nat's acquired quite the record collection because of Lottie's shopping

If you aren't sleeping at Lottie's (aka you're sleeping at your house) you guys all fight over who gets the bed and which one of you sleeps on the floor. Eventually you just started rotating it, which helped a little.

Modern AU where Lottie has one of those influencer bathrooms with all the travel size cosmetics that she keeps there specially for you and Nat to take. And they're like the expensive ones too, like minis from Sephora

Modern AU where Nat got famous on TikTok and Lottie got famous on Instagram (Nat for being alt and hot, Lottie for being rich and hot) completely independent of each other. When it was revealed all three of you were together you had to deal with an influx of followers on both sites

Photographer Lottie who's constantly taking pictures of both you and Nat for her personal Instagram. There's like two pictures of her total on the whole feed, it's mostly you and Nat

Nat has one photo up on insta and it's one of you and Lottie at the beach that she absolutely loves

Unrelated but Nat is the type to only post memes on her Instagram story

[friendly-neighborhood-boricua]

[3] Career Fair

Summary: James holds a parents' career fair, to which Liam's mom is invited.

Notes: Marauders modern elementary school AU, kindergarten teacher!James Potter x nurse!reader, mom!reader x son!OC (Liam), inspired by this post by @ravishinglavishingluvr. Hah, remember last time where I said I was updating semi-regularly? Ok well I actually mean it now, I promise lmao. Not edited but I'll do that tomorrow. Also kinda short, sorry

A/N (1/8/2024): okok I came back here to change the names of some kids bc I forgot that this is a marauders au so I can use the names of like real kids from harry potter smhhhhh please don't get mad at me this is my first time writing an au

Previous Part: Seeing Each Other Around Town Next Part: Liam and James Make You A Birthday Gift Series Masterlist here

James ended up pushing the career fair back a couple weeks because there was a conflict in the schedule

(not because you emailed him back saying you wouldn’t be able to come the day he had originally planned it)

(and definitely not because he asked you to send him your shift schedule so he could make sure you could come, and you were working overtime for two weeks straight)

(James was pretty sure your work schedule violated some labor laws or something, but he was in no place to question you)

Liam is soooo excited for the couple days leading up to the career fair

Because his mom is cool af and he can’t wait to show everybody just how badass you are

(You had Liam pretty young, so you’re totally the parent who all the kids think is the coolest person alive and who all the kids’ older siblings have crushes on and who all the kids’ parents judge because of your age and assume you’re irresponsible, but we don’t have to talk about that)

James is also excited because he hasn’t had a real conversation with you in a couple weeks and he really just wants to talk to you

Poor Sirius and Remus have had to deal with him swooning and fawning and over you and also helping him frantically prepare for this career fair because “guys it HAS to be perfect”

But at long last, the day finally arrives

James scheduled the career fair in the afternoon so he could threaten children with canceling the event if they misbehave, so both he and his kids are bouncing off the walls in excitement all morning

He eats lunch in the library with Remus and Sirius, and they both spend the entire time hyping him up

(It’s mostly Sirius tho)

“You’ve got this, Prongs—be smooth—be nice—you’re a nice bloke, that’s not gonna be a problem for you—”

And eventually, it’s time

The parents that are participating in the fair arrive ten minutes before James has to get the kids from the cafeteria so he can explain to them what’s going to happen (because god knows the majority didn’t read the goddamn email he sent)

You’re a little late (profusely apologizing again, and it reminds James of the first time you met back at parent-teacher conferences) but you read the email the night before (and take another piece of James’ heart hostage while you’re at it) so it’s no worries

James’ summary instructions take a shorter amount of time than expected, so the ten or so parents all get to talking

And ofc James takes this opportunity to talk to you

You’d emailed back and forth about the fair but you hadn’t really talked in person since that night in the grocery store, and James was starting to feel like he’d die if he went another day without talking to you

So he’s plotting his route to you across the classroom when he notices you’ve secluded yourself a few steps away from the majority of the parents’ conversation

James is also horrified to discover you look slightly uncomfortable

Like you’re somewhere you don’t belong

And of course James can’t have that

So he sidles up next to you and asks how your day is going, if your boss gave you a hard time getting off work early, how the chocolate chip cookie dough from a month and a half ago was—anything he can think of, really

By the time James has to go get the kids from the cafeteria, you’re smiling and laughing, and James desperately wants to keep you like that all the time

He shakes himself out of his daydreamy state on the way to the cafeteria because this is your JOB, James, you can’t be distracted by your favorite student’s mom. His sweet, kind, whip-smart, dazzling … mom …

(In the back of his mind, James knows he’s screwed, he just has no idea what to do about it)

(CERTAINLY not act on it, because that would be a complete conflict of interest and totally unprofessional of him)

(But it’s just a crush)

(It’s fine)

(Right?)

ANYWAY

Liam’s on the lookout for you as soon as he steps through the door, and he beams the sweetest little chubby-cheeked smile when he finds you and points you out to his friends

You wink playfully at him, and he and his friends giggle excitedly as they sit in their seats

If James is being completely honest with himself, the career fair was a little disappointing

The majority of the parents’ presentations were kinda lame

And they didn’t make their jobs understandable or appealing for the kids

Dean's mom (she’s regional manager of a popular grocery store chain) complained to the class about her boss pretty much the whole time

Luna’s father, a rather eccentric professor at the local university, just spewed a bunch of nonsense technical jargon about the soul or the meaning of life or something that not even the adults in the room could understand

And Draco's dad (he owns the local insurance company and is just obscenely wealthy, which explains quite a bit of his son's attitude) straight up said he hated his job, so there’s that

But then there was your presentation

James is sure he’s in love by now because you made being a nurse sound so amazing

You talked about how you’re in charge of taking care of people when they’re sick or hurt, how it’s nice to be able to help people, how even when your job gets hard, you feel like you’ve made a positive impact at the end of the day

Once the parents left, James asked the kids who’s presentation they liked the most

And ofc every kid in that room agreed that yours was the best

And a solid 75% said they wanted to be a nurse lmao and he was just so proud

Proud of his kids and also you because your presentation was just so fucking good

As James is taking the kids out to the buses, Liam thanks him for inviting you to the career fair

Ofc James says it was no problem and that you’re really cool, so it was a pleasure to have you there

And Liam kinda gives James this … look … and is like “… yeah, my mom is cool …”

And James gets this horrible feeling that Liam somehow knows

Knows he’s completely smitten for Liam’s mom

Fallen head over heels

Practically in love at this point (though James has a nasty habit of throwing that word around willy-nilly)

(Liam kinda freaks James out a bit sometimes lmao)

Next Part: Liam and James Make You A Birthday Gift

[from-now-on-im-switzerland]

Oh mah God, your jasper fanfics are so stinking cute! A continuation of the baseball one would be perfect!

Like maybe after hanging out with her the feelings get stronger and he decides to distance himself in worry, and the reader, albeit confused, respects him and is a little heartbroken. Maybe at one point he worries about her for a moment when Emmett tells her she didn't look well (she's sleep deprived from stressing about him but trying to keep it to herself) so he pulls a creepy (can't find a better word) Edward and shows up outside her room and senses her heartbroken ness and feels like he has it too but brushes it off thinking it's just hers instead of his own. She starts getting closer to the wolfs and he tries acting like it doesn't bother him and pretends he could care less when she starts sitting with them in the cafeteria after he shows back up at school. And it's not until Alice has a vision of her getting discovered by volturi and "ended" that he starts keeping an eye on her again, and when a guard of the volturi blends in at the school and he notices does things begin and yeah....or something like that lol take the idea into your jar of boredom writing or something 😂

I feel like you'd write this perfectly! And spot on with the jasper and his accent..

Uhm...YES!? You're so creative this is such a good idea. I should be doing my college coursework right now, but this is all I'll think about so I'm doing it right now!! Also forgive the gammer 🥲😫

Okay, it won't be a DIRECT continuation of the Baseball one-shot bc it's already part of of a different fic I'm writing. I'm just gonna take out Y/n's friends but the baseball game still happened okay?

(sorry 🙏) (I don't know if that made sense.)

>I just like the cold.

>Jasperxf¡reader

>As I said, not a direct continuation but instead the start of a new series? (lmk)

>could be a tad longer that what I'd usually write 🥲

>TW, Panic Attack

°Jasper's POV°

When I saw her eyes for the first time, in that cramped hallway, I melted inside. My icey veins (filled with the venom that could end her life in an instant) were fueled with warmth as they must've once been long before. And that all too familiar burning sensation at the back of my throat hasn't left me alone since I caught her scent for the first time.

I thought it was just me being hungry. I hadn't eaten that day and it could've been that she just had tasty smelling blood. But knowing my luck, that obviously wasn't it. I can't put my family through this again, I just can't. I've tried to maintain a friendship with her for the fair few weeks she's been here but it's getting harder and harder.

I can't believe I was once angry or annoyed with Edward for falling for a human. I guess karma's a bitch huh? Y/n has no clue about my feelings, I hope. Why would I tell her? So I think it's best, for her safety if I just stop being friends with her. It'll keep her so much safer I know it will.

"I thought that too" Edward said, appearing in the corner of my room.

I didn't jump, I heard him race up the stairs.

"What?" I asked, annoyed I was interrupted by Mr Thought Police himself.

"About Bella. Remember when we left for half a year? And I left her? I thought it'd make her happy. Safe. But it took us both almost dying for me to realise we were safer together.." Edward said, reminding me of the very thing I wanted to try and avoid.

"But that's you, Eddie. You and Bella, by then she already loved you, by then she knew the risk and by then it was too late for stupid mistakes. I'm in a grey area right now, where she doesn't know a damn thing and I just want to keep her safe." I said, sighing as I heard Emmett approach my room aswell.

"Bro, she really likes us.." Emmett said, racing over to the other corner of my room. "I mean for some reason you specifically, but she's told me! We're actually like best friends now so if you want me to be the middle man..just let me know." He said, winking.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I've seen you together before, walking around the school. You've been especially close ever since you almost abliterated her head with a baseball...but oh well."

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Jasper?" Emmett teased. Edward laughed as he joined our brother over at his side of my room.

"No Emmett you don't, because I have no right to be jealous in the first place, she's not mine to be jealous over." I said, not meeting thier eyes.

"But you want her to be." Edward said.

This drew my attention as I looked up and saw his face. Care and amusement radiating off of him.

"I'm glad you find my dilemma so amusing, none of us ever laughed at you, you moody asshole" I said, throwing a pillow full force in his direction.

He caught it. "It's just funny to see how much of a little boy you're being about something that is so crystal clear" he said, tossing back the pillow.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" I asked, fed up now.

"She's your singer. Just like Bella was mine. I've heard your thoughts, they're too loud to ignore. That feeling? that burning? It's nothing you've felt around anyone else is it?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, but I don't want to have to go through the same old debate of “do we turn her or not” and that's even if she feels the same way.." I said.

"Dude, you're literally an empath. You can find out yourself" Emmett said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I hate using my gift on her as it is. The thought of manipulating her in any way makes my skin crawl, alright? If it's to help her then I can deal with it but I won't just use it to be nosy, that's not fair" I said. "you can still be friends with her if you want Emmett but I can't do it. I won't let myself drag her into this life. I know you wanted the same thing for Bella, Edward but maybe I can make it happen for Y/n. If anyone deserves a blessed life, it's her." I said, walking out my room, speeding out the house and into the forest to clear my head.

I just need to keep away from her. I'll keep her safe that way.

°Reader's POV°

This week had been..strange. Emmett had been even more friendly then he usually was; it was perhaps due to the fact that he could've killed me the other week with that baseball, but y'know, life goes on. And at no point had I even had a chance to speak to Jasper. Even in class, he'd moved seats. Of course, that was his last resort after they wouldn't let him change his lesson plan.

It ached my heart a little because, I really liked him and for some reason it's like a flip had been switched in his brain and he no longer wanted anything to do with me. It was Friday, and I was determined to atleast get a conversation with him.

While Emmett was babbling on about something to do with gorillas, I interrupted him. "Emmett when did you..uh...see Jasper last?" I asked.

"last I saw he was with Rose and Bella in the cafeteria.." I saw a small glint in his eye as he answered. "But..i don't think he wants to talk to you.." he said just as I began to walk off.

"Have I done something wrong? Did I say something? Is he..is he mad at me for something? Why won't he speak to me?" I rattled off a few of the questions I'd kept to myself all week.

"Woah, calm down. It's..." he hesitated. "it's not my place to say but I think he might just be trying to avoid talking to you because he knows if he does, he won't be able to not talk to you. " he said, in a really confusing tone.

"You've complicated this way too much than you needed to. Is he still there now?" I asked reffering to where he said he saw him.

"Pretty sure, yeah."

I took off without a thank you, which I felt bad about, but I was too focused on getting that conversation with Jasper.

I was almost running to the cafeteria, as I knew the bell was going to ring at any moment. I made it in the cafeteria and spotted him immediately, and he saw me too. His eyes met mine for less than half a second, before he looked to the floor.

He left his conversation with his sisters and went to walk out the opposite way that I was coming in. I ran this time, and caught up to him.

"Hey! What's going on? Have I done something?" I asked, needing answers.

He audibly sighed and closed his eyes, breathing in. "No, you haven't. You haven't done a thing, I promise." He said, and began to walk away again. I moved infront of him to stop him from walking away.

"Don't walk away from me, I wasn't finished. If I haven't done anything then what's the issue? Why can't you talk to me I want to be here for you." I tried to take a hold of his hands but he wouldn't let me touch him. And he didn't meet my eyes, he refused to even look at my face.

"Because...Y/n" I heard his voice shaking. "I just can't be around you, it's not your fault, you're not the reason why I just-" he paused, and bit his inner lip. "I just can't okay?" he said, pushing past me. He sped off down the hall not looking back, leaving me behind.

The bell rang through the halls, louder than I'd ever heard it before. It started to hurt my ears but my eyes couldn't pull away from his figure.

Tears swirled in my eyes as I watched him walk off, and my breath quickened. Then, what I feared, that feeling tightened up in my chest. No. Not a panic attack. I can't, not at school. I took one last look at Jasper walking off before racing back out of the cafeteria and into the school parking lot.

The cold air hit me like a kind wave, and the small droplets of rain coated my face as I looked up at the sky, desperaty wanting it to swallow me whole. It was a small sense of relief before the feeling washed back in like the tide. I ditched my backpack and jacket, throwing them on the floor, needing the coldness on my skin. I tried to slow my breathing down but it wasn't working. I made my way down the steps, now in a short sleeve t-shirt, tripping slightly on the last step as I made my way across the lot. My breathing wasn't slowing and I couldn't stop it, I guess I'd just have to ride it out.

"..Y/n?" I heard from the trees.

I span around, my breath not halting and my panic increasing. As my heart rate was about to rocket even more, Seth Clearwater stumbled out from the trees. I had met him a few times, he and his friends all the way down at the Reservation were good friends with the Cullens.

"Seth?" I aksed, I didn't want to start hallucinating people. That would be a whole new area for me that I wouldn't be able to keep up with.

He made his way over to me. "Yeah, it's me. It's Seth. What's going on? Hey...hey" he was inches away from me now. I tied to move away but he stepped closer in fear I was going to somehow hurt myself. My tears wouldn't stop and my head was looking very which way "Y/n. Look at me."

His order sent a small shockwave into me for a second and I snapped my eyes up, his face blurred due to the tears streaming from my eyes. He took his thumbs and wiped under my eyes, but new tears replaced the stains he wiped away.

"Breathe with me okay?" he asked.

I wanted to try, there's nothing I hate more than this shit. But sometimes you can't help but just ride out the attack until it's done. I nodded my head vigorously and he began to breathe, waiting for me to follow suit.

"Okay in..." he took a breath in and let it out softly. "..and out.."

I tried my best to follow suit but my throat needed as much air as it could get. And it kept speeding up the pattern.

"No Y/n with me, c'mon you got this.." he said, holding my hands.

"In.." he breathed in once again and I followed suit. "and out" he breathed out again.

Slowly but surely my breathing returned to a somewhat normal pace but my shaking didn't stop.

"there you go.." he continued the pattern as he slowly walked me over to a stone wall, and sat me down.

"You're freezing, Y/n." he said, touching my cheek after wiping yet another tear..

"I'll be fine..I like the cold when these things happen.." I laughed slightly, to ease the awkwardness, if there was any.

"I know, it helps a lot doesn't it?" he said, sitting down next to me.

"wait, you've-"

"yep" he cut me off, with a sheepish smile. "I get it. You're inside somewhere when that ugly feeling hits. You beeline it for the nearest exist and the air just gives you something else to feel. It doesn't stop it, but it definitely helps. The cold, it..it helps you feel something different other than that thing in your chest.." he said, describing what it was like for him.

I nodded along as he said so. "yeah..that's...exactly it." I smiled.

He looked up from staring at his feet and smiled back at me, before frowning. "Y/n your lips are slowly going blue, I know how much the cold helps but I won't let you catch hypothermia.." Seth said, pulling me into his chest and offering me a hug.

He was so so warm. It wasn't a stuffy warm either, the kind of warm where you feel sticky. It was that cozy warmth. That homely warmth on a winter morning.

I shivered in his arms at the contact. "Oh..jeez your pretty hot. Are you ill or something?" I asked.

He chuckled slightly. "No Y/n, I'm just a warm person.." he admitted.

"C'mon, let's get you back inside.." he said, rising us up to our feet.

"No!" I wriggled out of his grip, my heart fluttering again, in slight panic. I feel if I see him again today, I'll get worse.

He took hold of me again gently. "Okay..I'll take you home yeah? We just gotta grab your stuff that you graciously dumped on the stairs.." he said, smiling.

I laughed slightly as we walked slowly over to the steps. He jogged up them and picked up my stuff. He placed my jacket over my shoulders and carried my bag over to my car.

He walked confidently over to the drivers seat.

"I swear you're like..16 can you even drive?" I asked, a smile paying on my lips.

"I'm 17 now actually. And it's fine don't worry, hop in" he said, unlocking the car with my keys he must've taken from my pocket.

We got in the car and threw our seat belts on.

"Thanks for this Seth. Aren't you missing a lesson right now though?" I asked, I didn't want to ruin his education.

"Oh nah, me and the boys are on a part time timetable for this school and the one down by the Rez, so don't worry about it...anyways.....where's the handbreak?"

My eyes shot in his direction only to see him holding in a laugh.

"Uh. What do you mean where's the handbreak?" I asked.

He finally giggled. "Don't worry, I'm just joking. We'll be fine. I've never been to your house though, so you can be my sat nav" he smiled turning on the car, and pulling out of the car park.

°Jasper's POV°

I walked away from her. Every fibre of my being telling me to look back. I fought against it, but gave in. I looked back and saw a glimpse of her as she rushed out of the cafeteria.

What am I doing?

I felt the dread and panic leaking from her as I started to walk away. And I just left her. I left her feeling that way. I know I'm doing this to keep her safe but I can't pretend that I'm perfect, leaving her in fear.

Special thanks to my power, I'm extremely sensitive to even my own emotions and with years of practice I've managed to get a good control of it, but Y/n..I feel her emotions so much more than anyone else's.

My still heart is telling me not to go near her, to keep her safe...but her scent, as much as it tempts me, it deals me a great source of comfort..I can't explain it. I'm near her and I feel safe. I'm a monster and have nothing to fear really, but in her presence it's like we're the only two on earth.

Which is why I must do this. I can't that let angel be manipulated by the devil deep inside me. I won't allow it.

I let out the breath I was holding in during that encounter, again not that I needed to, but I think people would notice if I wasn't breathing. I made my way to the science block and yippee! I was next to Sire Brain Detective and his wife.

I was waiting outside the classroom to catch Bella before Edward got there. I caught her scent in the hallway and rushed to her side.

"Hey Bella, can you just maybe kinda block my thoughts from Edward please?" I asked, a sheepish smile following close behind.

"Why?" She asked, squinting her eyes a little.

"Well you've never had the problem, but Edward is very nosy. And I'd just like my thoughts kept to myself for today." I said.

We kept on walking into the classroom and to our seats.

"So it's nothing to do with Y/n then?" she quizzed.

Even hearing her name makes me feel sick.

"No. Bella..just please can you do it?" I was begging her at this point as I smelled Edward down the corridor.

She looked up as she caught his scent too. "Okay, but you owe me" she said.

"Thanks Bella." I said.

Edward walked in the class and met my eyes immediately, a hint of confusion crossed his face before he sat down next to his wife and realised. "Oh c'mon how is that fair?" he said.

"How is what fair?" Me and Bella said at the same time. We looked at eachother breifely before opening out books as instructed to.

°Reader's POV°

Awkward, sweaty and sleepless. That's all I feel right now. I close my eyes and he's there. I open my eyes an he's all I can imagine. Everything I tried, I couldn't get him off my mind. I even tried counting sheep, but the sheep soon morphed themselves into horses, then I soon saw him riding a horse, actually imagining him as a Cowboy. I snapped my eyes open and drank some water I left by the side of my bed, before making a last attempt to get some sleep.

After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning in the same directions over and over again, I got up and opened my window. Again, the cold air washed over me and it was almost instant relief. Just like Seth said, it gives you something else to feel.

I watched the trees as they swayed in the wind, thier green leaves brushing against eachother at each breeze. Out of all the places my Mum had placed me while she did her book tour, Washington was probably my favourite so far, well specifically Forks. Since the beginning of the year, (when my Mum's book tour started) I'd been placed in a random city in the state she needed to visit, and Forks was this really nice and small town. Where everyone knew everyone. Of course, the thought of litteraly everyone talking about me as the new arrival didn't appeal to me at all, but when I had moments to myself, it was impossible for me not to gawk at the nature around me. The grey skies, while annoying to some, gave me a nice comforting feeling. The rain, which everyone hated, was my favourite weather. I don't know what it was.. I guess I just like the cold.

I was pulled from my thoughts as my phone buzzed under my pillow. It was my mum calling, I answered of course, but I wandered why she was calling at 4am.

"Mum? what's up?" I asked, trying to hide my tired voice.

"Oh my god Y/n I'm so sorry.. I forgot about the time zones...go back to sleep, I'll ring you at a better time.." she said.

"wait what do you mean the time zones? you're in Washington too?" I questioned, wandering what she meant.

"No..honey, that's why I called. I got to my hotel and they said they had my reservation booked for next year, so they flew me out to the state I was supposed to be in." She said, sounding ashamed. "I tried to mention you, and say how I could catch my own flight..but.. they-they wouldn't listen to me..."

"Mum... Mum it's okay, don't worry about it I'll be fine okay? Just make me proud." I said.

"but I only gave you enough money to last a couple months not over a year..nearly two! And you're in your last year of school, what will you do all day? How-"

"Mum" I cut her off "I'll get a job, it'll be fine. You've been doing book tours since I was like 15, I know how to live on my own." I said.

"but that was when you were 5 minutes down the road...or a bus drive away..now I'm on the other side of the country!" She panicked.

"wait, the other side of the country? where did they fly you to?" I asked. The phone went silent for a few seconds before she answered.

"I'm in Georgia, honey.." She said. "I called you as soon as I had time, I'm sorry I've left you there, I can book a flight and cancel the tour-"

"-No, Mum don't. I'm not gonna pretend hearing you were in Georgia didn't scare me a little bit, but I'm perfectly fine here in Forks. I like it here.." I said honestly.

"but honey-"

"No 'buts'." I said. "Mum some kids leave the nest at early ages, some never leave..maybe it's my time to make a life for myself.." I said, with tears threatening to spill.

"I-in Washington, are you sure?" Mum's voice was shaking by now.

"Mum, I'm old enough. I know it's scary, it'll be difficult too but.. sometimes life just throws you in a new direction and you can't help but see where it takes you.." I said, wiping a tear from my cheek.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be the one full of wisdom little lady" she joked. "well...I guess it isn't the craziest idea you've had." she said, sadly.

"so yeah?" I asked.

She took a deep breath "Yes Y/n, yes. Start your life.." she said.

"Okay.." I said.

It wasn't long before I was off the phone and trying to sleep again. I prayed when I rested my head on the pillow, he wouldn't plug my mind, but much to my dismay he returned and my heart ached.

I closed my eyes and managed to drift off to sleep just before my alarm rang for me to start getting ready for school. The ringing of the bell threw me back to that moment. That moment he left. Just like that.

°Emmett's POV°

Since the day Jasper told Y/n that he couldn't be near her anymore, she hasn't been in. And I'm worried about how she's taken it.

I didn't tell Jasper I was gonna go pick Y/n up today as I didn't want him to go all emo and be like “ugh you're gonna smell like her all day!” so I instead took my absolutely, positively, non-judgemental wife.

"So why are we on our way to a humans house right now?" Rose asked me from the passenger's seat of my jeep. "what purpose is she serving us other than pleasing our noses?"

"Babe, she's my friend..and I'm worried about how she is. She didn't come in at all last week since Jasper didn't want anything to do with her, and I'm not gonna let my idiot of a brother be the reason she fails school.." I said, keeping my eyes on the road.

Rose went silent and looked out the window. "Just let me know when we're there.." she said, closing her eyes.

"That would be now.." I said, pulling up outside her house.

I got out the jeep while Rose stayed in, and made my way to the front door. I hesitated before knocking and waited for an answer. A good minute went by, so I knocked again and as I did, the door flew open.

"I told you three times already, Mrs Henderson doesn't live here anym-" she cut herself off when she saw my amused face.

She rubbed her eyes. "Emmett?"

"The one and only!" I replied.

"What are you doing here?" her voice was drained, and she looked a lot less bubbly than before. Her eyes drooped slightly and dark circles hung below them from lack of sleep.

"To get you to school, missy!" I said, not wanting to comment about the elephant in the room.

"But Emmett, Jasper said-"

"Fuck what Jasper said, it's your life and it's your school too. What..just because he's being a little bitch right now that means you can't get educated? I don't see how that's fair.." I said, crossing my arms.

She rolled her half-lidded eyes. "Okay, let me get changed.." she said, turning back into her house and shutting the door.

I celebrated my victory behind the wood of the closed door and waited for her to open it again. I sat on the step and prepared to wait, when the door swung open again. She stepped out with all her stuff. "C'mon then, let's go." she said, plastering on a fake smile.

"I thought you were atleast gonna cook some breakfast? It's like half seven in the morning..." I said, standing up and leading her to the jeep.

"Nah...not hungry." she said, climbing in.

I got in too, and put the radio back on.

"Hey Rosalie" Y/n said, tiredly a sheepish smile across her face.

My head quickly turned to my wife and I begged her with my eyes to be nice. But she didn't even look at me and instead looked for Y/n in the wing mirror.

"Jasper's an idiot, but he cares about you and he's doing this for your own good, I'd take it as a win." she said, before closing her eyes again and turning up the radio.

I started the jeep up again after a small awkward silence with nothing but the music blaring and began to drive to the school.

"yeah but does he know how much it's actually hurting?" Y/n whispered, any normal person wouldn't have heard it but of course me being a beautiful, immortal, gifted being...I did.

Passing through the familiar streets of Forks, it didn't take me long to get to the school, I parked the jeep and Rose got out. I turned around in my seat to face Y/n. Her sleep-deprived look catching me off guard once again.

"You ready girl?" I asked, grinning.

She sighed. "Not really, Emmett" she replied sadly, staring at a particular stone wall in the car park.

"Well c'mon, you got this. Let's go" I said, getting out.

It wasn't long before she climbed out herself. As she shut the door.

"Thanks for dragging me in Emmett, but I'm gonna go incase he appears from around the corner or something.." she said, with low energy as she dragged her feet toward the doors of the school.

°Reader's POV°

I couldn't thank Emmett more, I wouldn't have been able to get here on my own accord. It's just a shame I didn't have the energy to express my gratitude to him as much as I wanted to.

It was about 10 minutes until my first lesson so I walked to the cafeteria to get a drink. As I opened the doors, I saw Seth and some of his friends from the Rez sat at a table and so I wasted no time in going over there.

"What are you lot doing here?" I asked.

"Part time, time-table in each school! How do you keep forgetting that?" one of them said.

"Uhm..Seth?" I looked to him for help, I could barely remember any of the other's names.

"Alright, sit down." he pulled a chair from the table behind him and turned it next to him, facing their table. "Here we have Quil, Leah my sister, and Embry." he said.

I had only met the rest of them once but Seth I had seen a number of times, and he's who I was closest to...now for a very obvious reason.

"So what's your first lesson?" Quil asked.

"Science.." I said quietly, biting the inside of my cheek afterward to simmer down the anxiety I felt creeping in.

I started boucing my leg too, which Seth took notice to. He offered me a smile, which I returned, weak as ever.

The bell rang, louder than before, and I covered my ears, burying my head down against my chest. Each time I hear that bastard bell it gets louder and louder, and the memory of that last conversation with him gets clearer and clearer in my mind.

°Jasper's POV°

"I'm telling you man..she's-"

Emmett would not stop. I told him I didn't want to hear it, but he was following me all over our house, not leaving me alone.

"her eyes don't look the same, she doesn't have nearly as much energy as she used to, I haven't seen her smile, and if I'm being honest I don't think she's eating properly.." Emmett said.

Hearing his words made my non-beating heart ache.

"I've been picking her up all week and she never eats breakfast, and when was the last time I saw her eating in the cafeteria? Uhh let me think, I haven't!" he said, in my face.

I was looking at the floor, guilt riddling my body. She's like this because of me.

"I get it. Emmett. Okay?" I spat, my voice quavering.

He moved back slowly, almost realising that this was hurting me too, and left my room.

After staring out the window for another moment or two, I sped off out the house before anyone could question it. I ducked and dived between branches, breaking them if they were too big for me to dodge. I raced through the woods rembering the route to her house when I met her before school, when we first started to talk to each other. I ran to her. Wondering what I was going to do when I got there, would I beg her to forgive me? Would I stop this madness and just tell her everything? At this point, I couldn't see anything but her angelic face, and hear her sweet voice and before I knew it, I came to a swift stop by the trees of her house.

I approached it slowly, still deciding what to do, until I lingered by the side of the house where her bedroom was. I climbed up a tree that rested just by it and waited to see her or atleast hear her.

"fuck sake..just go away!" I heard her complain as she slammed the door to her bedroom. "You don't want anything to do with me so why won't you get out of my head!" She panicked, her voice wailing as she spoke.

"It's not fair.." she said after a minute of silence. She got up. "It's not fair." she repeated. She tossed her chair on the floor. "It's not fair!" she threw a picture frame against the wall. She repeated those three words, growing more aggressive each time and trashing a new part of her room until she ran out of energy.

She breathed heavily and sunk against the wall, sobbing. She cried, and it was like a thousand hot knives were cutting me all over. She cried and I had to fight as hard as I could not to rush in there.

She cried and I felt heartbreak. My breath quickened too, as her emotions laced with my own. Sat in the tree in that moment I didn't know which emotions were mine and which were hers.

She cried and cried until she fell asleep, and that's when some of her emotions filtered away from my body. Though she fell asleep and tears were still staining her cheeks, the aching in my heart wouldn't leave or subside. It stayed.

[moonsgemini]

american heartbreak - i

summary: all June Summers wants is to be Rafe Cameron’s date to the county fair dance. Everyone from town would be there and she was tired of going alone. She was tired of watching him dance with other women, tired of waiting around for him.

warnings: cowboy!rafe x oc (minimal to no oc description, mutual pining, angst, fluff

wc: 2.7k

an: I hope you guys enjoy! I love cowboy rafe. I also just love writing au’s there’s so much more room for creative freedom. I basically just use rafe as a face claim bc drew starkey is a literal greek god.

series masterlist

The sound of June’s boots as she paced back and forth behind the counter were beginning to drive Amber crazy. She was trimming tulips to make a new bouquet but she could barely concentrate when the her coworker was an anxious mess. The soft sound of music wasn’t enough to drown out the clacking of boots against wood. June bit her fingernails anxiously, her stare not leaving the floor as she was lost in thought.

“June I swear I’m going to kill you if you don’t relax,” She scolded the girl who stopped abruptly.

She smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry, I just am really nervous. What if he like laughs at me or something?”

Amber rolled her eyes, “That boy would never laugh at you.”

“You never know. What if he like thinks I’m crazy or worse never speaks to me again after he rejects me because he feels so bad!” She exclaimed dramatically.

“How do you even sleep at night with all this worrying?”

“I don’t get much of it.”

All week June had been practicing over and over in her head how she would ask her lifelong crush, Rafe, to the county fair. At the end of the night there would be a dance that the whole town went to. It was a big deal around here, and going with a date was a big deal. Every year there would be some new surprising couple that would be the talk of the town for the next few weeks before some new gossip spread. June had been pining over Rafe Cameron like a love sick puppy since they were eleven years old when boys started becoming cute and not gross anymore.

She had planned on asking him when he came in this afternoon. Rafe always came in on thursday evenings after practice to buy a fresh bouquet of flowers to take to his mom’s grave. A tradition he started in high school, the day before the rodeo, he’d go visit his mom. To this day he swore she was his goodluck charm. When June started working at the flower shop at sixteen she was ecstatic to have another excuse to see Rafe.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and her palms started sweating, it was six now which meant he was out of practice by now. June decided to make herself busy in the mean time to occupy her jittery fingers.

Rafe parked outside the small flower shop and let out a sigh of relief. Being at the flower shop on meant it was the end of his practice week and now he just had to worry about riding. It also meant he got to visit his favorite girl, and he wasn’t talking about his mom.

He looked into his rearview mirror of his old pick up truck and adjusted his hat. Checking himself to make sure he didn’t have any dirt or muck on his face. He got out of his truck making long strides towards the door. As he entered that all too familiar bell jingled alerting June and Amber or his presence. The smell of fresh flowers over took his senses, as well as the presence of his favorite flower girl.

June looked up from where she was picking the leaves off of the carnation stems. Her eyes widening for a second, her face beginning to feel hot as she smiled shyly at him. Suddenly any ounce of confidence she had to ask him about the dance left her body. That smirk he always wore turning her into a pile of mush. She’s surprised her legs were still holding her up as he walked over to the counter.

“Hi Rafe,” She said softly. Amber smiled to herself as she watched them interact. She sneakily walked into the back room to give them some privacy. It was a little routine she did whenever Rafe came in.

“Hi sweetheart, whatcha got today for me?” He asked resting his palms against the counter supporting his weight as he leaned towards her.

He was such a natural flirt. She could barely look him in the eyes most of the time, “we just got a bunch of beautiful tulips in so I made you a bouquet of purple ones with some baby’s breath,” June walked over to the one of the bucked holding an abundance of bouquets, “I also put a few daisy’s to add a bit more to it.”

She showed him the bouquet proudly. A wide smile spreading across his face, “That is beautiful. You’re so good. Mom will love them.”

June knew Rafe’s mom. She cared for everyone in town like they were all her family. Whenever June would be over at their house hanging out with Sarah she would make them food, always let them ride horses. When they were really young she’d let them play in the rain and get all muddy, when other mom’s in town would scold her for letting the kids look like a mess. She was the sweetest woman.

“Always the best for her,” She fidgeted with her hands nervously. If he knew the effect he had on her he’d be too powerful.

He pulled out his wallet and handed her a twenty. Since he was their best customer she never charged him more than that. Clueless Rafe just thought that was how much each bouquet was, “Am I seeing you tomorrow at the rodeo?”

She nodded, “Of course. I might help out Mrs.Mayfield sell raffle tickets.”

“Always the helpful one. I better see you at the Rooster after,” He pointed at her scolding playfully. Roosters was one of the local bars everyone went out to.

June laughed softly, “Maybe, I doubt you’d even notice if I wasn’t there.”

“Darlin I always notice when you’re not around,” He smirked, “I better get going to see mom.”

“Goodluck tomorrow Rafe,” She smiled with a small wave as he began walking out.

He tipped his hat at her with that cute lopsided smile on his lips, “I’ll see you tomorrow Ms.Summers.”

June watched him walk out to his truck, a dumb love struck smile on her face. That crush she’s had on him since second grade was never going away.

“You chicken.”

She jumped and reached to clutch her chest, “Oh my god you scared me.” She scolded her friend.

Amber had her arms crossed leaning against the doorway to the back, “You didn’t ask him!”

“I couldn’t! My brain got all blurry. I-I just can’t handle the thought of rejection. Especially not from him.”

“Did you not hear everything he said to you?” She walked over standing in front of June, “He practically was begging you to go tomorrow. Verbatim said ‘I always notice when you’re not around’ um hello?”

June shrugged, “He’s just being nice, that’s just Rafe.”

Amber stared at her with a deadpan expression, “I wish I could put you in a choke hold right now.”

She rolled her eyes, “I’ll try to ask him tomorrow after the rodeo.”

“I’m sure you will. But we’re definitely going out after,” She smiled.

-

June and Amber had been friends since they were in diapers. Their moms being best friends themselves it was almost a given that their two daughters would be just as close. After they graduated high school they took all the money they had saved up and rented a cute little house in town. Now they were working on buying out Mr.Robertson for his flower shop. They had been working in it since they were fifteen and they wanted it to be their’s. Mr.Roberston kindly offered to sell it to them since he was getting too old to take care of it himself and once he sold it he’d move to Florida with his daughter.

The girls were close to buying it, needing a few more months to get the rest of the money. Most people wanted to move out of the small town they were born in but that wasn’t June or Amber. June liked it there, she liked the familiarity and the comfort it brought. She liked her life here, she liked living with her best friend and working with her too. She liked being five minutes away from her parents. June felt lucky to be where she was and have the people she had in her life.

After closing they had stopped by the grocery store to pick up stuff for dinner. Now headed home in June’s dad’s old mustang they enjoyed the cool summer afternoon breeze and listened to their favorite artist, Taylor Swift. June felt like she had the perfect life. The only thing she longed for was someone to be by her side. Of course she had Amber but she wanted a romantic relationship. She wanted someone who could hold her at night and take her out on dates.

It’s not like she hadn’t tried to get a boyfriend. June had gone on a few dates but they never ended well. She was seeing Liam, a local mechanic, for a month but then she saw him flirting and kiss another girl at Rooster’s. After that she went on a date with a local bull rider, one of Rafe’s teammates, but he never called her after the night was over. June thought it was because she didn’t put out on the first date. She doesn’t know that it was because Rafe cornered the guy and threatened him. Told him if he ever went out with you again he’d tie him to his truck and drag him across town.

Amber had her own boyfriend, James, who was friends with Rafe. They worked together on the Cameron farm and occasionally helped coach Rafe. June has refused his attempts to set her up with Rafe more times than she could count. James moved to town a few years ago after he heard that the Cameron’s were looking for another ranch hand.

“Wanna invite Sarah for dinner?” Amber asked as they carried the groceries into the house.

June shrugged, “Sure, we haven’t seen her since she left for Charleston.”

“I’ll call her, can you get started on the potatoes please,” Amber said as she started dialing Sarah.

“yeah yeah,” June rolled her eyes playfully as she unpacked the grocery bags.

The three girls were all friends in school and Sarah ended up moving to North Carolina for college once they graduated. They managed to stay as close as possible with the distance. Sarah is Rafe’s sister and of course she knew of June’s infatuation with her older brother. Sarah wanted them to end up together, always talked about how perfect it would be to have her as a sister in law.

When they were younger and June would go to Sarah’s house she always prayed she’d run into Rafe. Occasionally she would but he was the same old Rafe back then. Would make slightly flirty comments towards her making her flustered and making her crush on him grow.

-

The girls sat around the dining table laughing at old stories from their childhood. Every time they got together it felt like they were fifteen again sneaking alcohol from Ward’s liquor cabinet and turning into a fit of tipsy giggles.

“And then Rafe came out from the barn and June practically jumped on him she was so excited to see him,” Sarah laughed tilting her head back.

June covered her embarrassed face at the memory, “Oh god! I forgot about that.”

“That was the closest you’ve gotten to him like ever,” Amber added, “You need to drink tequila again.”

“That will probably be the closest I get to him ever,” She said a hint of sadness in her voice.

“June you should just ask him out yourself. Forget all that old fashioned stuff. My brother would never be mean to you.”

June took a sip of her wine, “I know he wouldn’t be mean but it’s the rejection that turns me away. He could have anyone why would he want me. He also is always out with some other girl. She’s usually a lot prettier than me.”

“June Summers you know I don’t tolerate that negative talk in our house,” Amber scolded, “You are beautiful and he would be lucky to have someone like you. I also highly doubt he’d reject you.”

She smiled at her, “And how do you know that?”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Because he’s like practically in love with you! He doesn’t great other girls the way he treats you. He also looks at you different.”

“Then why has he never asked me out! It just doesn’t make sense. I’d rather keep him as a friend than lose him completely.”

“I wish he didn’t have such a thick skull then maybe he’d have some sense,” Sarah stood grabbing the girls empty plates to take to the sink.

“Fallin off too many bulls in his life,” Amber giggled.

June stood to grab the bottle or wine to refill their glasses, “Oh I’m gonna head out soon. Rafe is picking me up on his way home from James’ and he texted me he’s on his way,” Sarah said beginning to wash the dishes.

“Come on so early?” Amber gave her puppy eyes.

She laughed, “Yes, I have an exam online in the morning I still need to study for. That masters won’t get itself ladies.”

“Speaking of James has Amber told you that she thinks he’s going to propose soon,” June smirked trying to forget about the fact that Rafe was coming to her house soon.

“Shut up!” Sarah exclaimed.

“I know! He’s been so suspicious lately! He’s been working a lot and he’s not so subtly asked me for my ring size last month. Then he went to the city last week but he didn’t want me to come because he said he was doing some boring errands for Ward,” Amber’s cheeks began hurting from smiling so much at the thought of her boyfriend, “But I don’t believe that for a second. I think he went to buy a ring.”

“Oh please get married soon! I want to be a bridesmaid,” Sarah said excitedly as she dried her hands. There was a knock on the door as she finished, “That’s me, go get the door June while I get my things together.” She smirked at her friend.

“I hate you guys,” She whisper shouted in case he could hear them. Amber practically pushed June to the door.

She took a deep breath fixing her hair a bit before opening the door. He stood looking the same as he did earlier that day, still just as handsome as before. He smiled as soon as he saw her, he was really hoping it’d be June answering the door.

“Hi Rafe,” She said softly. Her timid demeanor returning whenever she was around him, he made all her confidence vanish always.

“Hi sweetheart, how are you tonight?” He asked with that cute smile he always wore around her. For a second she pretended he was picking her up for their first date.

“I’m good, and you?” She asked politely still stuck in her daydream.

“Better now, is Sarah ready?” He asked breaking her from her fantasy. Truthfully Rafe didn’t want the conversation to end but he knew he was there for a reason.

“Uh yeah she’s just getting her things,” As if on cue Sarah showed up next to June.

“I’m ready,” She hugged June tightly, “I’ll see you tomorrow Juney.”

“Does that mean you’re going out tomorrow with everyone?” Rafe asked with a smirk, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“I guess so, can’t say no to this one,” She smiled nodding her head towards Sarah.

“I’m her favorite what can I say,” Sarah shrugged smirking, “Come on Rafe I gotta study.” She walked towards the truck leaving Rafe behind.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then June bug,” He tipped his hat at her like he always did before walking down the porch steps.

“Bye Rafe,” She waved and waved towards Sarah who was smiling at the pair from inside the truck.

June spent the night praying that the words Sarah said earlier that night were true. That Rafe somehow was in love with her. But she couldn’t help that voice that was always in the back of her head telling her how that could never be possible.

Maybe tomorrow she’d have some tequila.

[obsessedelusional]

Destroying Yourself to Keep a Friend

paring ✦ Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

summary ✦ You befriend Eddie Munson as an attempt to piss off your toxic on and off again boyfriend, Jason Carver. Only for you start comparing the two, quickly realizing Jason is no longer who you have feelings for. MODERN AU

word count ✦ 6.9k

authors note ✦ This song has been stuck in my head for weeks inspired this piece. 10/10 recommend you giving it a listen Drunk Text by Henry Moodie REPOSTING THIS BC NO ONE SAW IT ):

masterlist

FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

1st of November

The night had started because you had a gut feeling about Jason doing something shady. He started growing more distant than he already was. When you two found time to be together, he was hiding his phone. Rumors starting circulating around school that he was cheating on you. So when found out he was at a party that you didn’t know about you had to show up. Eddie was your ride, waiting for you outside. Only to arrive and see some blonde wrapped around his waist, she was a cheerleader. You stood there, Jason entirely oblivious to your arrival. Until she kissed him, him kissing her back.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, causing Jason to look up wide eyed from the kiss, pushing the girl off him.

“No it’s not what it looks like.” He pleads with you, reaching out to you. You push his hands away.

“Fuck this.” You mutter, as you leave. He follows you outside.

“I just thought that’s what we’re doing now. Fucking around with other people.” He yells from the front door, you’ve almost reached Eddie’s van.

“I’m not stupid. You’ve been fucking Munson.” He accuses you causing you whip around to face him.

“You are stupid. So fucking stupid. I haven’t done anything with him only because I’ve been faithful to you!” You croak. Jason reaches for you once again, profusely apologizing.

“Fuck you.” You say before hopping in Eddie’s van. That’s when it hits you, he definitely heard all of that.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” The rest of the ride is silent. Only a quick goodbye when he drops you off at your home. Before you can even make it to your door he catches up with you stopping you from going inside, he wants to say something but can’t get it out. Jason’s car pulls up to your house.

“I swear if you get in that car with him whatever this is we’re done. I can’t do this anymore.” Eddie admits, finally hitting his breaking point.

“Eddie-“

“I’m serious. I can’t keep standing by watching Jason treat you like shit.” The sight in front of you breaks your heart, you can feel the pain in his voice. More upset at how you’ve made Eddie feel than just finding out Jason’s been cheating on you. Jason is yelling from his Jeep parked out in the road, demanding you to leave with him.

“I’m sorry. I can’t-” Your voice is shaky.

“Forget it.” Eddie says, turning around leaving you on your front porch. He says some not so nice but we’ll deserved words to Jason before hopping in his van and driving off. Jason climbs out of his car approaching you. You can’t handle this. You don’t want Jason. You want Eddie but that’s not fair to either of them right now. You need to be alone. Before Jason can reach you, you slip in side quickly locking the door behind you.

“What the fuck?” Jason yells, rattling the door handle.

“Go away, Jason.” You say between his screaming. You find your headphones, find the playlist of all your saddest songs and turn the volume so high you can’t hear him anymore.

—

5th of November - A Few Days Later

“Dude you need to tell her how you feel. Get it over with.” Jeff grumbles irritated by this entire situation. Jeff and Garth always being there to console Eddie after your many breakups with your on and off again boyfriend, Jason Carver. Eddie knows Jeff’s right but simply refuses to take his advice.

“You know it’s not that easy.” Eddie groans, rubbing his eyes from lack of sleep he’s been having this last week. He hasn’t spoken to you since the first, the night you caught Jason cheating. He’s been staying up late every night drafting messages to send you. A message that would let you know how he truly felt. Usually going something like this:

I wish I was who you drunk texted at midnight. Wish I was the reason you stay up 'til 3, you can't fall asleep because you’re waiting for me to reply. I wish I was more than just someone you walk by. That I wasn't scared to be honest and open, instead of just hoping you’d feel what I'm feeling inside.

DELETE

“You’re destroying yourself to keep a friend.” Garth says.

“A shitty friend at that.” Jeff adds.

“Jason cheated on her. Yet she went back to him. What more does she have to do for you to move on?” Garth asks, Jeff nodding in agreement.

—

The Past

Two years ago you befriended Eddie to spite Jason, he was well aware of that but still let you hang around. Only for you to find the person you felt safest around. You could be your self without the fear of judgement. It didn’t take long before Eddie was the one you ran to at any minor inconvenience or major.

You’d been dating Jason since junior high, now the two of you seniors in high school. He wasn’t the sweet kid you grew to love any more. He was bully to everyone, especially you. Things really began going downhill when he joined high school basketball his freshman year. Harassing you to become a cheerleader because the best basketball player should have a cheer leader girlfriend. You did it for six months before quitting, the cliquey bullshit too much to handle. That was the first time he broke up with you. Lasted all of a week until he came back, begging you to take him back. You did, part of you regrets that to this day.

Several months later you overheard the popular girls talking about how they didn’t understand why Jason was with you. Tears in your eyes you went to Jason in the hopes he’d soothe your worries. Only for him to confirm what they were saying about you. ‘What do you expect? I’m on the basketball team and you’re nobody. I tried to help you by having you join the cheer squad. Sometimes I wonder why I’m even with you.’

His evil words only made you angry, you broke it off with him on the spot. His teammates watched the whole thing go down because you interrupted their practice to talk to him. You were so embarrassed. On your way out of the gym you bumped into Eddie Munson with tears running down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, looking up at the tall man in front of you.

“It’s okay…” His voice trails off when he notices your teary eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asks, genuine concern in his voice and eyes. You’re not sure what comes over you but almost immediately you start crying even harder and muttering ‘Jason is a dick’.

“That’s something we can agree on.” He laughs, bringing a smile to your face while still crying attempting to rub the tears away.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie asks, you half wondering why he’s being so nice to you considering how terrible Jason is to him. While also thinking to yourself Jason finding out you’ve been hanging around Munson would infuriate him. Maybe feel as half as angry as you feel in this moment. You nod yes before following Eddie to the drama club room.

There was an hour till his Hell Fire club meeting. The two of you sat on a used and abused love seat, he listened as you ranted spilling all the details of your breakup. He actually listened, Jason never listens to you anymore. More often than not talking over you. You felt bad comparing the two of them but couldn’t help it. Your moment with Eddie was cut short when Dustin came into the room, he looked surprised by your presence.

“I should get going. Thanks for listening to me.” You smile, standing up. Eddie follows you standing up, startled when you wrap your arms around him. Hugging him before leaving, giving Dustin an awkward smile as you walk out the room.

“What the fuck were you doing with Jason Carvers girlfriend?” Is what you hear from outside the room.

—

Eddie thought that was the end of you two. Only to receive a friend request from you that night. He accepts it and without missing a beat, you message him. Thanking him again.

Eddie: it’s no biggy

You: it was to me

Eddie: ya know I thought you’d be different

You: wdym

Eddie: your nice just always assumed anyone who could put up with Jason Carver had to just as awful

You: well I always thought you were scary but turns out you’re pretty sweet

Eddie can’t help but blush at your words. Realizing quickly he shouldn’t be reacting this way. Your Jason Carvers ex girlfriend, you could never be with a freak like him.

Eddie: me? sweet? never.

—

Eddie spent the entirety of that weekend glued to his phone waiting for your responses. He kept telling him self he needed to stop messaging you. Only for you to respond and he’d waste no time sending you a message back.

“Who the hell are you talking to that’s taking all your attention?” Jeff asks. Nobody believes him when he says he’s messaging you.

“Jason Carvers girlfriend? There’s no fucking way.” Garth sneers.

“Ex-girlfriend.” Eddie smiles causing Jeff and Garth to laugh.

“They’ve broken up like a bajillion times. They’ll be back together in a week.”

“Whatever.” Eddie mutters, good mood ruined.

They were right. A week later you and Jason had made up, dating again. To say Eddie was disappointed was an understatement. For a brief moment he genuinely thought you were feeling what he was feeling inside. Thought maybe he had a real chance with you. When he arrived to school seeing you hand in hand with Jason his heart broke. Confused how after all the shitty things you admitted about Jason you’d go back to him.

“Hey Eddie.” You smile, greeting him before the first bell.

“You look… tired.” He says, trying his best to show concern but not be rude. To put it frank you looked like shit.

“Yeah I got drunk last night. Stayed up till three am waiting for Jason to respond to the stupid drunk text I sent him.” You groan sitting next to him.

“Really?” Eddie asks, wishing he was the one you drunk texted. Wishing he was the reason you couldn’t sleep waiting for him to reply.

“Worked though because he was at my house early as fuck, apologies ready. We made up.” You smile half heartedly, part of you looking for Eddie’s reaction. He has none.

“That good.” Eddie fakes a smile before leaving you alone. He had to pretend like he was happy for you. It only got worse when later that day he was stopped by Jason in the hallway.

“You need to leave her alone, freak. As if she’d want anything to do with you.” Jasons words spit in Eddie’s face.

“We’re just friends.” Eddie says before Jason shoves past him sending him into the lockers. Jason walks off as Eddie regains his balance, picking up his backpack from the floor. Sadder than ever.

Eddie had no idea that you had been given the same instructions. You were right, befriending Eddie pissed Jason off. So much that he apologized for what he said.

Even with Jason threats, that didn’t stop you. The harder he tried to keep you two apart only made you closer to Eddie. Every time Jason pushed you away he was pushing you into Eddie’s arms.

This became most evident to you when your nana past away. As soon as you found out you called Eddie. To this day Jason doesn’t know she passed away. That night when you called Eddie tears in your eyes he dropped what he was doing to pick you up. Showed up to your home with all your favorite snacks and the first Lord of The Rings movie. You had listened to Eddie talk about it so much. Eventually asking if he’d watch them with you so you could further understand his ramblings. He was more than ecstatic to watch them with you.

That’s the night you started lying to your parents but more importantly lying to Jason. Lying about where you spent that night. And nearly every Friday night after that, using the next movie in LOTR series as an excuse to keep sleeping over at Eddie’s. After finishing that he talked you into watching The Hobbit, you happily watched given an excuse to spend more time with Eddie. You’d miss Jason’s basketball games to be with him. When first being picked up you were always filled with guilt. Only for the feeling to subside when you see Eddie’s smiling face in the drivers seat. Little did you know that Eddie was missing out on HellFire meetings eventually having to change the day they held the meetings to Thursdays. That didn’t go over well with the guys, only adding to their list of reasons to dislike you.

Sleepovers at Eddie’s started off as innocent. His uncle worked nights so you’d two have the trailer to yourselves. At first he offered you his bed while he slept on the couch. That only lasted a few times before he started sleeping on the floor near his bed where you slept. The next time you were upset about something Jason did you fell asleep on his chest, face sticky from crying. He didn’t dare move you, shortly falling asleep under your touch. After that is was just some kind of unspoken rule that it was okay to sleep in the same bed. Couldn’t help but worry what Jason would think, how mad it would make him. What he would do to Eddie if he knew.

One night spent at Eddie’s lead to drinking. The two of you got drunk together. Only Eddie didn’t drink nearly as much as you, wanted to make sure you were safe. One of you needed to be sober and he was more than happy be the coherent person in the room. You were angry at Jason and wanted nothing more than to forget. It was nearly midnight when you pulled your phone out and started drunk texting Jason. Letting him know exactly how mad you were, Eddie fast asleep next to you. The message made no sense, filled with errors.

You: duck you us used to be soooo good now your a asshole

Jason: where the fuck are you

You started panicking immediately. Remembering that Jason definitely had your location on. Always turning it off when Eddie picked you up. Texting him only made him think to check it realizing it was off.

You: nunya

Jason: wtf

You: business lol

It wasn’t that funny though. Your phone started blowing up. Him asking if your drunk and how you better not be with Eddie. Several missed calls and texts leads you to shutting your phone off. You lay awake till 3 am. Your brain storming with your thoughts. Praying that Jason doesn’t just show up to Eddie’s home cause that’s definitely something he’d do. After a few restless hours you decide to focus on the beautiful sweet man next to you. You truly felt like you didn’t deserve him. He was so nice, always there for you. You watch Eddie for a while, watching the way his chest moves as he snores. The moon light from the window, giving you just enough light to admire him. You’re too busy examining the tattoos on his arms to notice him waking up.

“Everything okay?” He asks voice low and scratchy, startling you. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, sitting up better to see you.

“Kinda.” You whisper.

“Kinda?”

“I did something so stupid.” You groan, remembering the events before Eddie woke up.

“What did you?” He asks worry in his voice. You turn your phone back on, waiting for the screen to turn on you start explaining.

“I drunk texted Jason.” Eddie says your name in a disappointed voice. Just as he does that your phone turns on dinging from all the missed texts.

“Is that him?” Eddie asks.

“Yes.” The messaged stop on the most recent one, from forty minutes ago.

Jason: whatever he can have you. you two freaks deserve each other

“What’s he saying?” Eddie asks, concerned.

“He wants to know where I’m at. Why my location is off.” You leave out the messages about him. Eddie doesn’t say anything.

“I was scared he was gonna show up here. I think he’s given up for now, I’m sorry.” You apologize for waking him up.

“It’s fine.” He says half heartedly before turning his back to you to go back to sleep. You can’t help but feel like it’s not fine.

The next morning you woke up early. Did your best to not wake Eddie up as you slinked out of bed. Grabbed your belongings before taking one last look at the man laying there. You couldn’t help but feel like you fucked something up. Your dads refusal to let you get license leads to you bumming rides of people. Used to be Jason but you can not call him now. A swift text to your only friend left that wasn’t pushed away by your relationship with Jason, Sarah leads to to her picking you up.

“You look like shit.” Sarah says as you climb into the passenger seat.

“I feel like shit.” You sigh.

“What happened?” She asks as she starts her car, slowly pulling out of the trailer park. You explain the events of last night.

“Why do you even put up with Jason?” Before you can respond she adds to her statement.

“When you have someone like Eddie?”

“What do you mean?” She rolls her eyes at your unawareness.

“We’ll I may of heard some things.” She admits.

“Things?”

“Ya know his friends Jeff and Garth?” You nod yes.

“They’re in my PE class. I got put into a group with them. They spent the entire period talking shit about you.” She half laughs.

“About me?” What could they possibly have to say about you?

“Yeah how Eddie’s so hopelessly in love with you but you don’t deserve him. Cause your and I quote ‘a giant bitch’. I don’t think your a bitch just a little clueless.” She laughs more, you don’t find it funny. Overwhelmed with all this new information. Everything starting to make so much sense. Sometimes you wondered if he had feelings for you. You’ve felt them there shortly after meeting Eddie. Constantly pushing them back down in the depths of your mind, trying your best to forget. All you’ve ever known is Jason.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Do you like Eddie?” She asks. Your lack or response is all the response she needs to know the answer.

“I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut over the years to keep you as a friend but Jason is a piece of shit. You could truly do so much better.” She explains, turning down your street. There’s a few moments of silence until she parks in front of your home.

“I’ll support you no matter what you do. Just know I’m Team Eddie.” She laughs.

“Thanks I think.”

“Plus I think Jeff’s kinda cute. We could like totally go on double dates.”

“Yeah I’m sure he’d love to be around the giant bitch.” Your voice is filled with sarcasm.

“I love the giant bitch. They’ll learn to love her too.”

Rolling your eyes, “I love you too.” You step out of her car, thanking her one last time before she drives off. Leaving you alone with all the new information. Now having to decide what you’re going to do.

—

5th of November

“Quite frankly she’s a bitch.” Jeff says laughing, Garth laughs with him.

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know anything.” Eddie argues, a bit of anger in his tone.

“Whatever if you’re not gonna take our advice. We won’t stop you, let you destroy yourself for a friendship.” Jeff responds. The group’s attention is switched to the faint knock at the door.

“I swear to god if it’s her.” Garth groans annoyed. Eddie stands up from where he’s sat heading to the door. Part of him praying it’s not you, the other part of him always wishing it was you. The opening of the door reveals you, stood there freezing cold in the winter weather. Your nose is runny as the tears have yet to leave your eyes yet. They are there though, brimming your eyelids. Eddie’s confused as to how you got here.

“I’m sorry I just really needed to talk to you. You weren’t answering your phone and I couldn’t wait any longer.” You explain. Eddie’s desperately trying to come up with a solution. If he lets you in he pisses his friends off. If he doesn’t let you in, he misses out on being there for you. He’s always there for you.

“How’d you get here?” He asks, peering around looking for an unfamiliar vehicle that may of dropped you off.

“I walked.” You croak.

“From your house?” He sighs.

“That’s like thirty minutes of walking and in this weather? You’re gonna get sick.” His voice filled with concern.

“Yeah I really wanted to talk to you.”

“The guys are here-“ He’s immediately interrupted.

“Yeah so fuck off.” The voice is familiar, it’s Jeff. He pushed past Eddie to get in your face.

“You’re a shitty friend to Eddie. Always taking. Just leave him already and run along to Jason. Like you always do.” Jeff spits in your face. The tears leave your eyes as you try to scan Eddie’s face for his reaction. He has none, refusing to look at you.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can mange to say, turning around to leave. Starting the walk home. Your dad had left you alone for the night so you snuck into his liquor cabinet, drinking the one you knew he didn’t care for. Trying everything in your power to numb all the feelings you were feeling. The feelings for Eddie that were there and the feelings for Jason that left a long long time ago. Beating your self up for not realizing sooner and putting Eddie through so much. You were so drunk that you thought walking to Eddie’s home to confess your feelings to him was the answer to all your problems. He wasn’t answering your messages or phone calls. The last thing you had expected was to be told to fuck off, you deserved it though. You deserved everything that had come your way.

About 20 minutes into your walk a car pulls up behind you, slowly following you. So you pick up your pace, ready to make a run for it any second. Whoever it is, is yelling your name now. You recognize the voice. Making you cry even harder because even after all you did, here is Eddie trying to give you a ride home.

“Get in my car. You’re gonna get sick.” He pleads.

“I’m fine, Eddie.” The sound of the car shutting off and the car door opening then slamming shut, doesn’t stop you. Only makes you pick up your pace.

“Acting like I won’t walk you all the way home right now.” Eddie huffs, irritated.

“You don’t have to. Please Eddie just go back to your friends. I’ll be fine.” You say, unwilling to look his way. He doesn’t stop though, an uncomfortable silence falls between you two. He keeps walking along with you. No one speaks for another ten minutes. You’re finally home, standing at your front door, your busy trying to find your keys you don’t notice Eddie moving closer.

“Are you drunk?” He ask, he can smell the liquor on you the second he opened the door to you. All you can do is nod, embarrassed by the answer. When you finally muster up the courage to look up at Eddie he’s already looking down at you. The gap between you two is small, your intoxicated self wants nothing more than to kiss him. Unsure of what you should do after the encounter at his trailer.

“I’m sorry for being a giant bitch.” Eddie laughs at your apology.

“You’re not a giant bitch. Where did you get that?” He asks, wondering how much of their conversation you heard before knocking.

“It’s the truth, Eddie. You’re so good to me and I continue running back to Jason.” You can’t believe the words coming out, the liquor in your system may be making you a little braver than usual.

“Your friends were right Eddie. You deserve someone who’s ready to be with you. I’m not ready for anything with anyone. I need to be single for a while. All I’ve ever know is Jason.” You take a moment to catch your breath.

“I walked to your house to tell you how I truly feel about you. Only to hear what your friend had to say about me, he’s right. It’s not fair to you. I’m so sorry.” A uncomfortable silence falls between you two before he takes one last look before leaving you alone, making the sad walk back to his van.

—

April the 7th

It has been five months since you had spoken to Eddie, so much has changed. At first Eddie was extremely bitter, ignoring all your attempts to be his friend still. Soon growing to regret that when he heard through the town gossip that Jason and you had actually broken up for good. You finally found the strength to leave Jason.

It’s hard for Eddie to get by when you’re still on his mind everyday. Hard for him when he sees you all over school, your new found singleness allowing you to be more involved in socializing. Every time he sees you there’s always a brief moment of eye contact, usually you the one to quickly turn away. Does he cross your mind half as much as you cross his? Do you feel the same?

Eddie still wishes he was the one you’d drunk text, stayed up late waiting for a response from. Wondering if things would of ended up differently if he had sent those texts he had drafted so long ago, when he was too afraid to lose you. He’s never been so unsure of himself. At the time Eddie didn’t know if he told you how he felt if he’d lose you. He did nothing and lost you anyways. Thinking that the worse case scenario would be stuck being your friend for the rest of his life, watching you grow older with Jason. This was worse, much worse.

To Eddie’s surprise he’s on track to graduate next month. Wishing that you were around to share in his accomplishment. You had always been Eddie’s biggest supporter. The first time Eddie failed his senior year, you were the only person to not give him shit. Excited if anything because now you two would be seniors together, get another year with Eddie. Helping him study refusing to let him cheat because you knew he had it in him. He often thinks back to the celebration you two had when he past his first test of the year with a C+. You were so proud of him and no one else cared.

“You ready?” Jeff asks, pulling Eddie from his thoughts about you as he’s driving to this stupid party Jeff somehow convinced him to attend.

“Do we really have to go?” Eddie groans, not wanting to participate in this slightest.

“Anybody that’s anybody’s gonna be at this party. You should be grateful I was able to get an invite. We’re aren’t exactly the crowd they want there.” Jeff explains. Eddie doesn’t respond only goes back to driving. The sound of Jeff and Gareth talking fills the silence as Eddie ignores them, attempting to focus on the road.

Pulling down the street where the party is being held and you can tell there’s a party near. Cars parked nearly everywhere, taking up every spot. It takes a few laps before Eddie finds a parking spot somewhat near the house.

“This is gonna be sick.” Gareth exclaims.

“Fuck yeah!” Jeff chimes in, the two running ahead of Eddie leaving him alone to walk in the party by himself. There’s people out front, he says a few hellos before making it inside. The sound of music nearly deafening. He squeezes through the crowd to find the kitchen. Grabbing a beer, cracking it open and taking a small sip. His eyes roam the room wondering why the fuck he’s here. That when he sees Jason Carver who’s zeroing in on Eddie.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispers to him self before slipping out of the kitchen. When he sees the back sliding door opened to the back door he decides to hide out side. Before he can even make it out Jason has his shoulder in his hand pulling him backwards.

“Munson,” Jason says before letting go. When Eddie turns back to face Jason the first thing he notices is the aggressive smell of liquor. Jason is wasted, his eyes droopy and shirt soaking wet with probably beer of some sort.

“What do you want?” Eddie asks.

“I just need to know did you two ever sleep together?” Jason slurs, leaning into Eddie. Eddie only nods his head no.

“Fuck,” Jason whines.

“So she really was faithful?” Jason says, tears starting to fall down his face making Eddie uncomfortable by the entire situation. Eddie nods yes, not wanting to have this conversation.

“I fucked up big time. She hasn’t talked to me since that night she caught me cheating.” Eddie listens, trying to process that you never went back to Jason that night.

“Yeah, you definitely didn’t deserve her.” Eddie says pushing Jason off.

“Doesn’t matter dude not like she wants your either.” Jason spits, anger in his voice.

“Whatever.” Eddie mumbles attempting to leave the conversation.

“You’re a fucking freak. It’s your fault we broke up. I should break you face for that.” Jason yells, his anger growing. Eddie can’t help but laugh because maybe he was a factor in your decision to leave Jason but not the reason. The laughing only infuriates Jason more.

“Honestly just go for it. Give me an excuse to finally fuck you up.” Eddie says taunting Jason, like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.

“She’s not worth it.” Jason laughs, attempting to leave the conversation. Those four words ignite a fire in Eddie, an anger he’s never felt before. He reaches for Jason’s shoulder forcing him to face Eddie. Before Jason can react Eddie is throwing the first punch, square in his jaw. Sending Jason stumbling back only momentarily, once he gains his balance he charges at Eddie. Eddie moves fast enough, sending Jason tumbling onto the ground. The sound of Jason hitting the ground, brings everyone attention to the two of them.

“What the fuck, Munson?” One of Jason’s friends yells approaching him. Eddie is distracted so Jason uses that as an opportunity to swing at Eddie. His fist making contact with Eddie’s brow bone. Suddenly theres a whole group of jocks surrounding Eddie ready to step in the second Jason doesn’t have the upper hand. Eddie is in over his head knowing that he needs to make an escape, wondering where the fuck his two friends are.

Everyone at the party attempts to squeeze into the kitchen to get a view of the fight. You were sat outside by the fire pit when people starting freaking about the fight inside the home.

“What’s going on in there?” Someone asks what everyone’s wondering.

“Jason’s fucking up some long haired freak.” A girl laughs causing you to stand up from your seat. Running into the house, squeezing through the crowd. Only to find Jason and Eddie in the center of it all. Jason has a bloody nose, Eddie a black eye forming.

“Stop it.” You yell, your screams muffled by all the commotion. Jason is on top of Eddie about ready to go in for another punch. You can’t let this go on any longer, your demands to stop not getting anywhere. You attempt to push Jason off Eddie, neither of them realizing that your here now. Jason goes to push you away only to elbow you in the face. Wincing in pain causes Jason to look up from Eddie seeing you standing there. He goes to apologize instead you slam all your weight into him. Didn’t take much force to send his drunk self down.

Jason is laid on the floor saying your name and apologizing profusely, wiping the blood from his nose. You pay him no attention, looking down at the man you’ve missed so much.

“Are you okay?” You ask, grabbing his hand to help him up.

“Jason is a dick.” He smiles, referencing the first time the two of you talked.

“That’s something we can agree on.” You laugh, making a stupid joke out of the situation as an attempt to hide what you’re both too afraid to say. You examine Eddie’s face, his forehead has a small gash while a bruise is becoming more visible. You intertwine your fingers with his, leading him to the nearest bathroom. Instructing him to sit on the toilet as you rummage through the drawers. Eventually finding a first aid kit. You get to work cleaning his wound then apply the pinkest girliest bandaid you could find. Eddie’s gaze never leaves you admiring the concentration on your face as you bandage him up. He so desperately wants to say something, literally anything. Too afraid to speak.

“All better.” You smile, admiring your work. Eddie grinning back up at you, words eager to leave his lips but unwilling to do just that. The bathroom door swings open, it’s Sarah. You two break eye contact, looking to her.

“Girl I was looking all over for you. Someone said you body slammed-“ She stop when she realizes what she’s walked in on.

“Oh shit sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s okay. I’m all done.” You smile to Eddie before awkwardly saying goodbye, following Sarah out of the bathroom. Eddie sits there a few moments after you leave, cursing himself for not doing something that would warrant you staying longer.

You wanted nothing more than things to go back to normal. After that night you messaged him and tried to call him several times, no response. One day at school you had finally gained the courage to approach him only for him to ignore you. Made you realize after your many attempts at still being in Eddies life if it was going to happen it’d have to be on his terms. For a brief moment tonight things felt how they used to only for Sarah to interrupt bringing you back to reality.

“What was that?” Sarah’s asks breaking your train of thought, she’s dragging you outside where it’s much quieter.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, all the feelings you have for Eddie rushing to the top again.

“I heard Jason was beating him up so I ran to find them. Jason was on top of him and I tried to stop them but they wouldn’t listen. Jason elbowed me in the face so I said fuck it and slammed into him. Then I ended up in the bathroom with Eddie.” You explain, reaching for your chin it’s sore from the elbowing.

“I’m sorry I interrupted you guys. Maybe you two could of made up if it wasn’t for me.” She sighs, knowing how much you wanted that.

“It’s fine. I just have to accept that I fucked up and if we can ever be together, it’ll have to be one hundred percent on his terms. Can we just go?” You ask, your social battery had run out the second you left that bathroom.

“Yeah we can.” She says, understanding. As your walking through the house, Eddie walks out of the bathroom. He stops in his tracks when he sees you, you half smile before looking away following Sarah out of the party. You hop in her car, she turns the car off and starts the drive to your home.

“I still can’t believe Jason elbowed you.” Sarah huffs, when she finally makes it to you home. The party was about twenty minutes away from your home. The drive filled with silence and low music.

“I can believe it.” You laugh, even though it’s not that funny.

“Are you okay?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah it doesn’t hurt to bad. More hurt by the fact that Eddie still doesn’t seem to want anything to do with me. He actually talked to me for once even it was brief.” You admit.

“Girl maybe he’s too scared or some shit. You should just message him, worst case scenario he doesn’t respond. Then you can move on.” She says so you pull your phone out, pull up the last messages you had sent to Eddie five months ago.

“You do it or I’m gonna do it.” She teases.

“Fuck it.” You say your heart beating faster than it has ever before as you try to come up with the perfect text. Eventually you land on three words, simple and to the point.

You: I miss you

“If he doesn’t respond I will be up all night stressing about it. Thanks for that.” You whine, the stress already starting to get to you. You watch the screen praying for a response. The clock reads 1:37, it’s gonna be a long night.

—

You were correct. It was nearly three am and he had yet to respond. You can’t help but wonder wether or not he has you blocked because it doesn’t even show that he’s read it. Your father was out of town again and nothing sounded better than stealing from his liquor cabinet. Drink your sorrows away. After the last time you did that you promised it would never happen again. It hasn’t happened but tonight was tempting you. Not only have you been single for five months but sober too.

When you heard a rushed knock at the door it startled you, wondering who would be showing up your house so late. Every part of you wishing it was Eddie. Your disappointment was evident when it was Jason.

“What do you want?” You spit.

“You.” He cries, the blood has dried on his face.

“Jason you need to move on, we’re done. We are never ever getting back together.” You respond, trying your best at not laughing at your Taylor Swift reference. A song you had been blasting since the official breakup as a reminder to not forget.

“I’m sorry.” He says, reaching out to you. You push his attempt away before slamming the door shut in his face. The sound of him stomping away is loud only for footsteps to come back towards your door shortly after. There’s another knock at your door, now your mad. You open the door again, angrier this time.

“Leave me the fuck-“ You yell only stopping when you realize it’s no longer Jason at your door, it’s Eddie.

“I’m sorry I thought you were Jason.” You laugh uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Yeah I would of been here sooner. He’s been crying on your porch for almost an hour.” He admits letting out a small laugh.

“You’ve been sitting out here for an hour?” You ask.

“Yeah maybe longer. I don’t know. I got your text earlier and I wanted to do this in person. He really put a damper on my plan.” He explains.

“Do what-?” You ask only to be cut off by his lips being so delicately placed on yours, his hands cupping your face softly. Like your so fragile, he’s afraid to break you. His lips move with yours as you melt into the kiss. Eventually he’s the one to pull away to catch his breath. You’re speechless, can’t begin to form words to express how you feel just the cheesiest grin on your face.

“I hope that way okay. This past five months made me realize I should have done that sooner. I can’t imagine going on any longer without you by my side. For once I was the one you were drunk texting-“ This time your the one to interrupt him.

“I wasn’t drunk. I haven’t drank in months.”

“Oh even better.” He smiles causing you to smile up at him.

“Is it okay if we do that again?” You ask shyly. Eddie nods, kissing you again only this time a lite rougher. More confident in the fact that he’s not gonna break you.

This time your the one to pull away, “I’d invite you in but if I’m being honest I miss our sleep overs at yours.”

“Grab whatever you need and let’s have a sleepover.” He laughs, letting you go. You nod before leaving Eddie outside grabbing a few belongings. When you get back outside he’s waiting for you at his van, he looks so happy watching you walk towards him. You’re the one to close the space between you two, enveloping him in a hug breathing in his smell for the first time in months. You missed this, you missed him.

[broken-clover]

Solaxl Week- Day 4

Haha get befuddled, you assumed I was gonna do hurt/comfort, didn't you? Well, I'm doing something different!...mostly bc I couldn't think of any ideas I hadn't already done before.

It was fun to give these two a slightly different dynamic, because a lot of the gruff op solitary behavior of Sol couldn't happen back when he was a kid, and his knowledge of music and inclination for the sciences indicates that as a young'un he was probably a massive nerd. Axl, meanwhile, seems like he was always a little scrappy brat. Don't need an education to be a delinquent. It's fun having Sol be the one out of his league and awkward for once.

4- Band AU, Hurt/Comfort, Snowball Fight

-

It didn’t matter how much college prep bit into his schedule, he still wasn’t giving up on band. Frederick refused to give up on one of the few things that still made him happy.

With how studying had begun bleeding into any snippets of free time he had left, some corners still had to be cut. Study hall had been the most recent casualty, following in the footsteps of lunch period. Sure, he still brought food, but as soon as the bell rang, he’d tuck his books under one arm and head for the band storage closet. It had been his routine for a couple months now. He knew how it was supposed to go. Drop his stuff at the door, flick the switch, head for the guitar rack. Maybe a bite or two of lunch could get squeezed in. It depended on how he felt.

Frederick halted, staring. For the first time, he’d arrived in a storage closet that was occupied by more than just inert instruments.

“You can’t be in here.”

“Eh?”

The guy was perched on the chair’s two back legs- his chair, the same one he used every single time. That alone was enough to veer his confusion into annoyance. Frederick didn’t recognize him, but in fairness, it was a big school. The more he looked, the guy looked less and less familiar and more and more greasy.

Perhaps he didn’t want to sit in that chair after all.

“Was just chillin.’” The stranger replied, shrugging.

Frederick shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot, unsure of what to do with his routine interrupted. “Band isn’t until sixth block, nobody’s supposed to be in here.”

“Yeah? So why’re you, then?”

It felt rather ass-backward to have his own motives questioned, but he chose not to say it, or to start a shouting match. He still had a bit of a reputation for being asocial, but not a total delinquent (in part because if he ever tried that, his parents would never let him live it down)

“I just came down for practice,” he replied. “Are you in study hall? I had all my work finished, so they let me go.”

The other boy snorted. “Heh! Nah, supposed to be in calc. Boo-ring. Hopped out the window, just gonna hang out here until lunch.”

Frederick was definitely sure he hadn’t met this person before. The rough edge to his voice and the thick accent was hard to mistake for someone else.

It suddenly struck him that there were only so many more minutes before the next class started, and he’d already wasted too many talking. Trying to regain some semblance of normalcy, Frederick left his books at the door and dragged a chair off of the pile by the wall. The rhythm of routine almost let him forget the intrusive stranger until he’d sat down again. The guitar’s weight was familiar in his lap, as was the music stand placed before him, but beyond the top of his sheet music, he could still see the guy staring at him with an oddly curved smile.

“Can’t you do that somewhere else? I don’t want someone to walk in and think I’m associated with you.”

“Why not? I’m awesome!”

“You’re a pain.” Frederick strummed the strings and felt along the instrument’s neck to tune one of them. “And I don’t want to get in trouble because of you.”

The other boy leaned forward in his seat, expression halfway between amused and angered. “Bloody hell, are you forreal? You’re one of those guys?”

Frederick paused his tuning. “What do you mean, ‘one of those guys?’”

“One of those little whiny crybabies that gets all bent out of shape just thinkin’ about getting told off. Lemme guess, you’re a straight-A student? Can’t even think about getting anything less than a hundred on everything?”

B-plus, and his parents wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. “M’not taking life criticism from someone who can’t sit through simple math for half an hour. What, does playing delinquent make you feel special?”

“I do it ‘cause I feel like it, you can’t tell me what to do!” Though his voice stayed steady, Frederick could see how the stranger was starting to go red. “And I’m not takin’ this kinda flak from someone who’s probably too much of a teacher’s pet to even swea-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

To his credit, he automatically did, too startled to speak. Frederick kept his scowl for a few moments more, then gave the guitar another strum. It sounded a lot better. He looked back to his sheets and tentatively repeated the first couple of notes…all the while he could still see himself being watched. He sighed in annoyance. “Like I told you already, I don’t want people to think we have anything to do with each other. Can you just hang out somewhere else?”

“Tch.”

Not much of an answer. The proper answer seemed to come in the form of the stranger sliding off his chair and cracking his neck. Instead of heading for the door, though, Frederick watched him approach the instruments. For a moment, he wondered if he’d start smashing things just to cause trouble.

“Well, then we will have something to do with each other, then!” He swiped another guitar off of the next hanger over. The chair he’d just been sitting in was hip-checked over closer to Frederick’s, and sat down far too close for his personal taste. “Whattaya playing? Got a second copy?”

Frederick jerked back. “You trying to breathe down my neck? Dammit, and be careful with that, don’t break anything! Do you know what you’re doing in the slightest?”

“Oh, you shut the fuck up, bloody poindexter.”

Before Frederick could think of sending a jab back, he was interrupted as the stranger started to play. The first few notes were rough, but…he hadn’t seen anyone else in band handle a guitar so carefully. Personal appearances were one thing, but Frederick had enough experience to recognize someone familiar with a guitar. And even if it wasn’t his favorite band, he’d recognize the iconic twangs of Cream’s ‘Sunshine of Your Love’ in his sleep.

He couldn’t hold back an impressed whistle. “Wow. Not bad, dirtbag. Surprised it wasn’t grunge.”

“Grunge’s fine, but I didn’t wanna scare ya~” Though he still had a smugness about him, Frederick could feel a little more warmth in the stranger’s tone. “So whatta you play?”

I like the classics.” He replied with pride. “Queen’s the best.”

“Nice, same boat. Folks tell me I like ‘dad music’ ‘n I tell ‘em their taste’s shit.” Frederick was offered a hand. “Guess you ain’t all bad. ‘m Axl, Axl Low.”

He took what was offered and shook. “Frederick Bulsara.”

Axl started to laugh. “Of course yer name’s Frederick.”

“H-hey, stuff it. I don’t believe for a second ‘Axl’ is your real name, either.”

“Okay, okay, I get it, Freddie. So, you said you came down fer practice, this a hobby?”

Frederick adjusted himself in his chair, settling the guitar across his lap. “Kinda. I like doing it for fun, but band class gives it a little more structure. And I’ve been doing it long enough that Professor Ringo lets me submit songs for us to do. Don’t think I’ve seen you in the orchestra, have I?”

“Don’t do band.” Said Axl. “Don’t like ‘em tellin’ me what to play. But I guess if you’re doing good shit this semester…”

“Yeah, here, lemme show you the stuff I got- “

The moment he tried to reach for his sheet music, the bell began to ring. Frederick looked down at his watch. “Shit, how’s it been that long?! I didn’t even get any practice in!”

Axl snickered, taking both of their guitars and putting them back on the rack. “Careful, Freddie, people are gonna think you’re some kinda delinquent, late for class and using dirty words like that.”

“Oh yeah, you’d know all about that-” He frantically gathered his things, shoving the music stand back with the others. In his haste, he’d forgotten to take the sheet music off first, and the motion sent them flying “Dammit!”

“Got it, I got it,” Axl knelt down and started gathering them up. From his pocket came a cracked pen. Frederick didn’t have a chance to say anything before he’d already started writing something on one of the papers.

“What are you doing? Don’t mess it up!”

“Chill, yeesh.” Once his self-appointed task was finished, Axl handed everything back to its owner. “Just giving you my contact info. Uh, hey, drop me a text later, got it? Dunno how to sign up for classes, maybe you could show me? Or heck, just send me some vids of the stuff you play, I wanna see your technique.”

He spoke too fast for Frederick to keep up. “Huh? What- “

“See ya, mate!”

Though he was still worried about next class, he was too bewildered to do anything but stare at the empty doorway where Axl had just been. Turning over the stack of sheet music, sure enough, there was a string of numbers and under the strange boy’s name.

What a peculiar encounter. He still wasn’t sure what to make of it. Though he did have a softer spot for someone who could appreciate the classics. Maybe it would be worth keeping in contact? When he had a moment between classes, Frederick would try to memorize Axl’s number and put it into his contacts…He’d have to ask why there had been a scratchy heart scribbled next to it, anyway…

[my-castles-crumbling]

hi cas career advice anon again

so a few days i slowly started bringing up the fact that i didn't really like the stem subjects with my mom and she just went "Do humanities study history and geography in 11 and 12 or maybe you can even study *my second language*" in like a dismissive type of joking way bc somehow it's turned into a running joke in my family about how i constantly get better marks in non stem subjects and how i should just go study them instead (derogatorily) and yeah i had plans to do stem and had those plans for a majority of my life but my parents treat humanities as just history and geography and therefore pretty useless. like i get that in our country, you're more likely to be better off if you take stem and probably even in the world in general but law is still pretty respectable and even if it wasn't law, but something else that was non stem, it shouldn't have been like such a big deal. i mean i could probably do well if i genuinely tried but i don't even like the stem subjects anymore so it's pointless. i just need to make it through next year and i can completely turn my back on it. i want to tell my parents by the end of 9th grade so they have some time to readjust their views by the time our subject selection for 11th grade happens. except judging by their reactions, i don't know how they'll take it. i don't think it'll be easy but i have to give them that time, especially if i need to convince them. also our school operates through a system of four electives besides our compulsory language classes from 11th grade and legal studies happens to be in the same bracket as physics so i'm keeping my fingers crossed about being able to take legal studies instead of physics.

i told my parents today. they have been going on about how i'm so unmotivated to study physics (they didn't know so yeah) and if my career goals had changed i should just tell them, so i did to get them off my back. they were understandably shocked bc who wouldn't be when they found out that their daughter had changed her mind about her career in two weeks after wanting to do something for practically her entire life. my mom wants (very badly) for me to continue with science after 10th grade and prepare for the law entrance exam on the side but my dad says he's fine with me leaving science for law of i'm absolutely sure about taking it bc science is very intensive in our country after 10th grade so it doesn't make sense for me to take it, not do well, and fuck up all my future prospects. my mom thinks i'm getting scared of science bc they're concerned about me not doing well recently and see, i'm kinda scared bc i'm concerned but that's not the only reason. my dad also wants me to go to a trial and see what the system in our country is like just in case i don't get to go abroad and have to work here before i make my decision, which is fair, considering that my country sucks in most aspects. however, my mom. that's a different matter altogether bc she says that she doesn't care if i want to do something other than science but she's of the very strong opinion that i should still continue with science until i graduate high school. she's like, "but you understand physics and you're smart your grades are just low because you don't practice." like, i don't practice because i find it boring and procrastinate because of that. my dad agreed with her because he's been teaching me physics for a month now after my practically failed midterm. i get that they're concerned about what could happen if i didn't like legal studies after i took it bc i can't retake science if i leave it once right? one of my friends left it and now she hates the subject she took instead of it. both she and my parents are concerned because what if that happens to me too, but see, even if i don't like it, i'd still be good at it because it plays to my strengths. that's the difference between legal studies and physics. and i made the rookie mistake of bringing up what one of my friends who's friends with a lot of seniors said about science being intensive. my parents said that i should think it over carefully and that this discussion is being tabled for when the decision has to be made, something which i want to avoid because then i won't have a lot of time to convince them. also, a legit conversation i had with my mom today:

mom: i always thought you were smart but now i'm rethinking it

me: why because i want to leave science?

mom: no because you're being too influenced by your friends (all my friends plan on leaving science or have already left it)

me: no i'm leaving science because i want to, not because of anything they said

mom: *my friend* said that science is intensive in 11 and 12 and you're basing your decision off that

me: she's friends with seniors and it honestly is

mom: yeah but millions of people take it every year and give the *engineering entrance exam*

me (in my native language): will you continue this until i take science or what

then she got mad and left. see, i'm just genuinely done with physics and without it, i can't take any of the stem field entrance exams. i always liked law, but since i wanted to go abroad and move around, i was concerned about retaking the bar every time, but now that i'm older and have actually researched it, i think it would suit me well. i get that my parents want me to keep my options open for the future and focus on the GCSE equivalents that i have next year, but i'm getting very frustrated especially because they keep saying that i understand physics well so they don't see why i want to drop it, especially my mom, and while i know that they only want what they think is the best for me, i'd genuinely appreciate it if they respected my decision and stopped asking me to reconsider it carefully. this was one of the major reasons as to why i didn't want to tell them, because while they've not explicitly said that they're against me dropping science, but they've made it very clear that i should continue to take it and how legal studies won't be easier either but like, my life, my choice except they don't seem to get it and they're getting on my nerves rn.

i'm sorry ik it's like way too long but i kinda just needed to rant

Hi!

You're always welcome to rant <3

It sounds like your dad is being a bit more reasonable than your mom? I would try to talk with him more, to be honest. Continue sharing your feelings and see if he can kind of come over to your side. Having an adult ally is always nice. Also, I think it's a great idea to see some real trials and stuff if you can! I know your dad might be wanting you to do it to 'be sure' but from an experience perspective, that's a really cool thing to talk about in future interviews.

I'm proud of you for sticking to your decision and doing what YOU want. Remember, even if you change your mind later, do it for YOU. Its your life, not anyone else's.

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

ILL GO OVER IT VAGUELY CUZ ITS A LOT AND IM TOO LAZY

AHEM

to start off, even though i did i say i planned on cutting them off, it felt like they were genuine when they apologized cuz they didnt act that way, maybe its bc i didnt hang out w them much after that cuz it was summer but basically i changed my mind)

so b4 i explain why, you need background info. basically like in march (b4 i confronted them in june) friend b came up to me like idk in march and said they had a secret but wont tell me but she said she'll tell at the end of the school year, then when i asked she tried to gaslit me into thinking it never happened.... 🥰 i forgot abt it thinking it was no big deal (like wtf is this kindergarten or smth...)

ANYWAY FASTFORWARD TO LIKE LAST WEEK

we're in highschool now and i have gym with friend a, and SHE brought it up, i asked her she said she cant tell me w/o friend b givng her permission. and i was kinda pissed cuz why bring it up if ur not gonna tell me???? also whats such a big deal that you wont tell me 🤨 but i didnt rlly say anything mean but i kept asking cuz i rlly wanted to know.

but she brought it up AGAIN the next day during lunch (she was also acting kinda distant from that day at gym)

so that afternoon i called my other friend (who hangs out w us at lunch)and my bestie and told them whats happening cuz i wanted to know if i was being dramatic by wanting to know (they were aware of what happened in june btw).

anyway with them on call i asked both of the seperately but they kept acting dumb, then in the gc i told them i was being serious and asked them, Then i got mad at them cuz they weren't taking me seriously :3

and i lashed out on them and told them i were gonna cut them off if they were gonna keep acting like kindergarteners and lie to me

they still didnt take me seriously, but my friend did end up telling me (like after 30 mins of me asking them again and again)

and basically they were (or more like only of them but the other one knew and didnt tell me) impersonating a guy on snap that i was talking to, (only as a friend tho, i started talking to "him" bc my friend who was impersonating him introduced us ) this rlly just was like my wake up moment and i was like no fuck you im done

OH AND back when we started talking to "him" i came up with a theory that it was my friend but my other friend told her and she kinda like cussed me out saying i was stupid for thinking that.....

anyway they thought i was threatening them by saying i was gonna cut them off for some reason but i left our gc and a few other ones. and my friend kept messaging in the other gc's saying "you forgot this one" and stuff and kept joking around

(also friend A asked abt a gift friend b gave me for my birthday asking what i was gonna do with it, and i said ill give it back idc but thats such a cheap thing to say when i cut them off)

ANYWAY the next day i wanted to give back the hoodie but i didnt rlly wanna talk to her, so i gave it to my friend who had a class with her.. and after school one of my other friends (who was on call w me) was going to a crochet club with her after school and told her that she wanted to talk to me cuz she didnt know why she was getting dropped. she also said that she got angry when my friend gave her the hoodie instead of me cuz she wanted to talk to me......she couldve came up to me during lunch or gym but she didnt?? but like wtv 🙂

THEN i texted her cuz i thought it wouldnt be fair if i didnt explain told her my reasons (kind of argued?? idk)

but i made it clear that i was NOT interested in giving 3rd chances and she said okay (ngl they were making stupid excuses too but still apologized....felt fake af tho)

sighhh but yeah basically what happened...nothing much 🥰 totally wasnt sobbing when it all went down

ANYWHOOOOO imlovingthenewsmau sedfghjkl.

P.S can i be added to ur taglisttt

🐺⛓️🥀

:3

THE FUCK ?1??1?1

the catfishing is actually crazy but coincidentally one of my friends also catfished me in middle school… well tried to i knew it was her immediately😍 BUT that being the secret that they were keeping from u or whatever is so fucked up?? especially when they were so omg teheee we’re not going to tell u stop askingggg (but then kept bringing it up like they were having fun watching u want to know so badly??? i almost said smth real mean whew) anyway they’re just acting stupid by “not knowing” y u dropped them and im very glad u did!!! bc u do not deserve that nor need that in ur life 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ especially not when ur just starting highschool so !!! proud of u !!!

and yes u can b added to the taglist :3

[honeysuckle-venom]

I'd be interested to hear how you found DBT harmful, if you'd like to talk about it....?

I remember all the mindfulness experiences and the ACCEPTS acronym feeling really frustrating + difficult + antagonistic, but for me at the time, learning about trauma therapy and actual physiological coping skills were overall helpful enough that I kept doing it

(Not trying to talk over your experience of it being *not* helpful for you! Just sharing what my experience was :)

Hi Anni! Thank you so much for this excellent question, I'm excited to answer this! I'm glad you mostly had a positive experience with DBT! To be fair, there are some elements of it that did help me, but overall and in the long term I think the effect for me was primarily negative. Some of that also has to do with how I was taught/the therapists involved and not exclusively the philosophy or therapy itself, but some of it is the philosophy/therapy itself. My answer is going to get very long, so I'm putting it below the cut.

Some background: When I was 15, I had a severe psychotic break/my schizophrenia fully manifested. Because it wasn't a super typical presentation (no prodromal phase, I didn't hear voices, most of my initial symptoms were disorganized and catatonic) no one really caught what it was. Instead it was just treated as a "nervous breakdown" due to stress at home/school and severe anxiety and depression. Because I was a teenage girl and engaging in self harming behaviors and expressing suicidality, borderline was also considered/something my mom's psychiatrist thought I had (this was 2012 and BPD was a popular diagnosis at the time).

I had already been in talk therapy for several years at that point, and my parents basically figured "well clearly that's not working bc look how badly she's doing." (Which was incorrect but that's a topic for a different post.) So they looked for other options, and found DBT. I started seeing a psychiatrist who specialized in DBT, and we also joined a group family therapy DBT program in which a few families learn DBT skills together and do a little bit of family therapy with them, which...bizarre structure to have multiple families in one room in therapy but okay. My initial reaction was "I hate this" but it wasn't that big a deal. I filled out diary cards, I learned about dialectics (a concept I actually kind of liked initially), I tried and failed to practice radical acceptance, I practiced using DEAR MAN to express myself in family group, etc. It wasn't really helping me much, but it wasn't hurting much either. I did like some of the distress tolerance skills. I did not like family issues being aired out in front of strangers. I found the mindfulness skills and breathing exercises quite difficult and sometimes triggering re: dissociation, but then I just kind of stopped doing those so much. It was overall a neutral experience. It was something I learned about a few times a week and at home I sometimes did distress tolerance skills and filled out my diary cards, but besides that I wasn't like...super in the DBT Lifestyle TM.

I slowly started to do better (not bc of the DBT) and eventually when I was 16 I went back to school. But I wasn't stable enough to handle it and after about a month and a half I became so unwell I had to be hospitalized again. First I did 3 weeks at a standard (though abusive) teen inpatient unit. After that I wasn't well enough to go home, and my parents got my rich aunt and uncle to help pay for me to go to a very expensive teen month long DBT intensive partial hospitalization program (basically inpatient with slightly fewer restrictions) at a place called Silver Hill. At Silver Hill I ate, breathed, and slept DBT. It was constant. The whole program is about really internalizing DBT stuff and just constantly using the skills.

That program was not good for me, on a number of levels. There were four main problems with it. The first was that the program placed a lot of emphasis on interpersonal relationships, which meant getting along with the other kids there. I was not very good at that, and in fact one time the psychiatrist spoke to me privately to tell me that I was "too weird" and it bothered the other kids. Like...sorry??? Whenever I messed up socially, I would have to fill out these worksheets with what I did/said wrong, what the response was, and what I should do differently next time. This was very bad for my self esteem and also wasn't the fucking point? I was there bc I wanted to kill myself not bc I'm awkward. It would have been one thing if I had been intentionally saying offensive things or something, but I was just made to do these whenever I was too strange, which...sucked. Very reminiscent of abusive autism treatment tbh. That's more on the specific people at this program than on DBT as a practice, but it did influence my view of DBT.

The next problem was the core dialectic that they always introduce you to: "I am doing the best I can, and I can do better" (also, and even more damagingly, phrased as "I am doing the best I can and I need to do better/try harder"). I heard this phrase dozens and dozens of times over the course of that month, and it was really damaging to me. I understand what it's saying, I understand what it's getting at, I don't need someone to explain how dialectics work to me. But I was 16 and drowning and had been pushing myself my whole life, and that phrase implies that what you are doing is NEVER enough. You can always be doing better. Even if you're doing your absolute best, you need to try harder. That mindset was so toxic and dangerous for me at that time, and it really hurt me. I had been abused, I had never felt good enough, I had always tried desperately to do my best in impossible situations, and now I was being told my best would never be enough, there was never a point I could reach where I could rest. "No matter how hard you work you have to work harder" is what that sounded like to 16 year old me. That was really bad for me.

The third problem was that I was doing DBT and DBT only. There was no trauma therapy. I wasn't doing it in conjunction with trauma work, I was just doing DBT. Everything was focused on specific immediate behaviors. There was very little room to talk about how past experiences played a role/affected me, and indeed it often seemed as though the therapists thought I was just using those as excuses for why I wasn't properly applying DBT skills. Over my month there I did learn and internalize some useful coping skills that helped me to, for example, avoid immediately going to self harm. But that should be the first step. It shouldn't be treated like that's the end of the road, once you've stopped the Bad Behaviors you're Cured. Sure, this was a specific inpatient program, and in depth trauma work wasn't the point. But they didn't even act like you should EVER do that kind of work/like when you left you should look into examining the deeper issues while continuing to apply skills. Everything was skill based, and so there was no actual chance to recover from anything on a deeper level. I could stop hurting myself but DBT was never going to teach me how to stop hurting. All behavioral therapies, imo, only address the surface level (behaviors and sometimes thoughts). In order to truly recover I needed to go much deeper than that.

Finally, although DBT is a potential treatment for schizophrenia according to the internet, I found it interacted with my schizophrenia in some negative ways. The core of DBT is dialectics, accepting that two (often seemingly contradictory) things can be true at the same time. I never had a problem with that, and did not need DBT to teach me that. I've never struggled much with black and white thinking. In fact, I had something of the opposite problem. At the core of my psychosis is a struggle with boundaries, particularly between the self and other and between fantasy and reality. My mom, with whom I was deeply enmeshed, lied and exaggerated frequently throughout my childhood, often about inconsequential things. I learned very early on how to hold multiple "true" views of reality; I had to, to survive in my household. It was kind of like doublethink, if you've read 1984? Here's the quote from 1984 about it: "To know and not to know, to be conscious of complete truthfulness while telling carefully constructed lies, to hold simultaneously two opinions which cancelled out, knowing them to be contradictory and believing in both of them, to use logic against logic, [....] to forget whatever it was necessary to forget, then to draw it back into memory again at the moment when it was needed, and then promptly to forget it again, and above all, to apply the same process to the process itself—that was the ultimate subtlety: consciously to induce unconsciousness, and then, once again, to become unconscious of the act of hypnosis you had just performed. Even to understand the word—doublethink—involved the use of doublethink." That's what my childhood felt like. I think elements of that are inherent to DID actually. Dissociation and psychosis worked together to make me excel at doublethink growing up.

And then I was told that the way to cure myself of my mental illness was to...do that exact thing? Hold multiple conflicting truths at the same time? Okay! I knew how to do that! But for me that wasn't a radical new way to view the world and avoid black and white thinking, it was a reinforcement of an unhealthy blurring of boundaries and lack of confidence in reality. A much, much more important thing for me in my recovery was slowly learning to actually trust my own thoughts and my own version of the truth over what someone else told me, to learn to have boundaries and a more stable sense of self and to trust my own memories and internal truths. Although DBT isn't meant to confuse people or blur their boundaries or make them struggle with the truth, because I came into it already in that place with a lifetime of gaslighting and dissociation and psychosis (and because I wasn't aware of my dissociation or psychosis enough to keep them in mind while doing this), dialectics were actually ultimately the opposite of helpful for me most of the time.

So yeah! Those are the big reasons why I don't like DBT. Also I find all the acronyms annoying lol. But really it just wasn't the right treatment for me and my situation, especially at the time.

[seneon]

ok so basically 10th grade i started kind of talking to this guy we’ll call j. we started talking in like september (beginning of the school year) and it was honestly mostly just sending snaps back and forth and occasionally complimenting one another

and that continued until like january ish?? and then he stopped talking to me, unfollowed me on insta, unadded me on snap, yk the works

and then around march he followed me on insta again and eventually unfollowed me again

and then in june i think, his friend got my snap from my friend bc he thought i was cute (i don’t know for sure if this has an impact but i like to think it does). and basically he followed me on insta, liked my highlights, most recent post, SWIPED UP on my highlight, added me back on snap, etc

and we were snapping like we were and he asked to hangout some weekend, but he never actually planned it out at all 💀💀 and so i was like you wanna js meet up at the fair?? and he didn’t go

and then he asked “so like are we ever gonna hang out” and i unadded him w/o actually opening the text. BUT WAIT FOR ME EXPLANATION ALR

basically i’ve never really liked him 💀💀 like he’s alr looks wise but i could never date someone with his personality. and also it doesn’t help his friend is my PERFECT TYPE (u would like him he basically looks like L from death note)

so if i did end up dating him id be wanting his friend the whole time and not vibing w his personality yk

and also i’m pretty sure he js wants to fuck

ANYWAYS basically i’ve had him unadded for a few weeks now and i go on my tiktok today to see HE VIEWED ME PROFILE?? and i never gave him my tiktok and idk how he got it

but yeah 🙂‍↕️

damn this long as hell

ewww men

[crazylittlejester]

Time-Master Sword anon

Also Nate grey is referred to as Silly Boy here

ok so disclaimer I haven’t read all of his comics yet (THERES 75 😭) but if I may I would like to rant to you abt this silly little goober with images I stole off the internet 😍/j

Ok so the comic starts out with the little guy coming out of his little fucking test tube 😍 and bro comes out and is confronted with Mr. Sinister which ima call Mr.Silly bc I’m not spelling that out. And bro just takes his hand is like your all good but then notices he’s shivering and gives him (what he calls) “A sensory weave 🤓🤓👆👆” It’s fucking clothes btw anyways it looks like this

Nate grey a Pkmn fan confirmed 🤨🤨🤨.

anyways Mr. Silly is a fucking Narc and names him after himself (Mr sillies real name is Nathaniel Essex) and then gets a call from an evil Hank McCoy who is literally a grey beast but whatever

Anyways silly boy wanders around the orphanage/school/church whatever (ok a bit of context for his powers bro is like as strong as the Phoenix force at base level and um he can also like feel the leftover emotions of an object that someone last touched there’s a lot more as well but I’m lazy 😍) So he goes into a classroom that his dad (bio) was last in when he was younger and Mr Silly notices hes missing and gets really fucking pissed anyways Mr silly find him in the cafeteria after he’s abt to blow the place up and silly boy just says

And takes him back to the lab where Mr silly is like “Our world is fucking fucked”and shows him images of the outside world and then goes “this is why you can’t leave” but silly boy sees some mutants abt to get imprisoned and teleports their astral plane selves over there and stops one of the faires momentarily from taking this girls aunt before the teleported back (Mr silly installed a fail safe just in case silly boy did that) and silly boy is like “wtf dude I was just abt to help them 👹👹” And Mr silly is like “HE CAN THINK FOR HIMSELF!!????” But dw guys he gets Silly boy a fucking teddy bear (which is a really wholesome moment) and all is well

(IM SORRY FOR THE PHOTO DUML BUT LOOK AT HIM HES SMILING!!!) (also eyelash routine drop when little bro)

Anyways Mr silly is Like “Get in ur fucking bath so you can get older in a few weeks”

And then he says good night to Nathan and Nathan being the silly boy who has already developed his powers at like what? 6? Says goodnight to him in his head

Anyways I’ll rant abt him again but this is just the first comic 😍😍 also don’t be fooled Mr silly is terrible father 0/10

also take this shitty picture I drew bc it makes me laugh

sorry it took so long i wanted to make sure i actually had the time to read this

CALLIN HIM MR SILLY TOOK ME OUT, GOOD LORD ALSKKDKD

i love that he gets him a bear

THE ART AT THE END KILLED ME ALDKDKS

[eemcintyre]

Lowermost (Steff McKay)

TW- period and character-appropriate but very much not good attitudes; drug and alcohol abuse, references to SA, use of the f-slur, brief and not-graphic mentions of blood. There's also a fair amount of black comedy.

Summary- After the disastrous events of his senior year of high school, Steff finds himself totally alone and lost. Struggling to make his way through college, he has a breakdown during a party that is private until another troubled partygoer intrudes.

Yeah that's right I changed his last name slightly bc I just think McKee is such a fkin stupid name and it doesn't fit him and this is my world here and y'all are just living in it. Anyway, not to be so dramatic lol; I hope you enjoy the first part to this very random tale for a very random character and actor that I adore- I've had an idea similar to this for a long time. Also I envision the main girl as Elisabeth Shue in all of her 80s glory.

Some say that high school is the best time of your life, and up until the very end, Steff McKay would have agreed.

Right up until a couple of weeks before the end of senior year, when everything he had built for himself imploded. His untouchably cool, do-not-fuck-with-me reputation. Any chance with the girl who’d kept him up at night for over a year and whom he pictured fucking the shit out of instead of whoever else was underneath him. The only real friendship he’d ever had. Those two, the girl and the friend, had left the prom together, and as far as he knew, they could be engaged or married by now- but, more than likely, they’d broken up days later. Steff couldn’t help an anemic smirk at the thought. It was a small satisfaction, but a satisfaction nonetheless, and he was taking that anywhere he could get it right now.

The first year at Stanford had not gone well. By bribing a few classmates, he’d barely been able to scrape by and keep his parents, far away back in Illinois, none the wiser, but he knew that this strategy wouldn’t prove sustainable over the course of three more years.

No longer having any concrete idea of who he was or was supposed to become, Steff filled the vacuum with an already familiar coping mechanism- copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. But what had been, for the most part, a party indulgence and a way to take the edge off in high school, had morphed into full-blown, constant dependency. He needed them to get out of bed in the morning, to recover from the first half of the day and prepare for the second, and then to either kick back and close the day out or keep himself going long into the night. The partying habit hadn’t died out with graduation.

The particular rager taking place this evening was the end-of-summer/start-of-semester bash to inaugurate sophomore year amongst his social group. But, for Steff, it was hardly a celebration. After bidding his cursory hellos over the sonic blast of Depeche Mode, he lingered by the beverage table, downing enough to make some belligerent remarks to anyone who dared ask questions and still barely be able to slink away to a frat house bathroom.

Stumbling through the doorway, and not even bothering to lock the door, he dry-heaved over the toilet for a few minutes before crawling to the sink to splash the sweat off of his face. His reflection was pale-green and shiny under the frigid, blue-white light over the fingerprint-smeared mirror. Positively feral. He was a god amongst men and a dying star.

Some nights, even with all the tolerance he’d built, the alcohol still just hit him wrong. Rather than grant the brief, freeing apathy and oblivion that he craved, sometimes it had the opposite effect of bringing the memories, pressures, and fears even closer to closing in on him. And the latter was occurring with greater frequency all the time.

Just when Steff thought he’d fallen to the lowest level of emptiness that he would reach that evening, the bottom dropped out again and he could feel it in his stomach. One hand white-knuckling the counter, he reached up with the other to yank at his hair- sunny blond, always perfectly coiffed- like he wanted to rip a chunk out. And he almost did. His hand flew down to his starched white shirt, shaking fingers fisting in it as he glared at himself in the mirror, Depeche Mode still intruding obnoxiously on the moment in the background.

Steff was not a crier. Crying was for girls and fucking faggots and for the privacy of a man’s own home, only if one’s close relative had died or something. But something about the revolting sight of himself in that almost equally as disgusting bathroom made his emotions boil over into a couple of small, hot, stinging tears. It was rage, it was terror, it was a sickening, endless merry-go-round that he couldn’t get off, it was floating and free-falling in utter directionless-ness…

Without thinking, like it was an instinctive response to a threatening stimulus, he slung his fist at the mirror, hoping it would shatter. Reeling back in pain, he was absolutely shocked and devastated to see that he’d merely managed to cause a small crack.

“God fucking damn it!” He roared through his teeth, trying to shake off the pain that smarted across his knuckles.

As he stood doubled-over in pain and indignity, the door to the bathroom swung open, snatching away the one small barrier between him and the blaring sounds of the party and revealing a girl. Wavy, dirty-blonde hair, freckles and patches of pink-red punctuating her round and otherwise pale face. What could have otherwise been a normal, even appealing outfit of shorts and a cable knit, was rumpled and hung askew from one of her shoulders.

At first, Steff thought she just didn’t know how to dress and apply makeup, but as they stared at each other in surprise, neither one expecting to find the other, he realized that the color on her face was a discomforted flush rather than poorly-applied powder. She began hastily pulling her top back over her shoulder and smoothed her hair as the initial shock wore off of them both.

“Excuse me?” Steff prompted, in a tone that he hoped would make his annoyance evident. He tried to surreptitiously wipe his face and steady his breathing. Nothing was amiss here.

“Sorry,” she replied vacantly, catching sight of the mirror and stepping toward it. He detected a slight limp. Finally, he noticed that one of her knees was scratched and bloodied. She looked like she’d just escaped a brawl. Taking in her disheveled appearance, tracing her fingers across her bleeding knee, she winced.

“Excuse me,” he repeated even more pointedly, crossing his arms. “Do you mind? This isn’t a social gathering place.”

The girl slowly appeared to register what he was saying; she acted as if she were trying to contact him from an entirely different world.

“You’re bleeding,” she murmured, concern flickering in her eyes, one of which showed smeared mascara.

His gaze snapping down to his knuckles, confirming what she said to be true, Steff defensively turned himself so that the hand with the wound was hidden behind his body.

“So are you,” he snapped in an admittedly weak comeback. “Don’t you even know how to knock? The hell are you doing in here? Get out!” he bellowed, and her posture shrunk, though she continued to study herself in the mirror.

Making eye contact with him via the reflective surface, she murmured “The door was unlocked. I’m sorry, I just need a minute… This, um, hasn’t been a very fun party.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he retorted as she began to wash the smeared makeup off her face, still very much in the room and not getting the fuck out for some reason. “You know, you look like you just crawled out of a storm drain.”  

Taking some of the faucet water from her cupped hand to her mouth, she aggressively swished and rinsed it, spitting repeatedly into the sink like she was trying to wash out a bad taste.  

“I look like I just almost got assaulted,” she corrected him bitterly, “Which would be true.” She dried her hands and lips with the worn towel by the basin, clenching her jaw like she was about to cry before sucking in a deep breath and nodding almost imperceptibly at how she’d put her appearance back together. “Should have known there’s only one reason I would get invited to a party like this.”

“I’m not here to play unpaid therapist…” Steff muttered, and her shoulders sagged in frustration.

“Look, I said I’m sorry for disturbing you, but since, obviously, neither one of us wants to be at this party and we’re both clearly going through something, can’t we share?” She gestured to the room around them. “We don’t have to talk. I just need a minute…”

“You’ve had a minute; you’ve had several minutes- go think about sucking frat boy cock somewhere else!”  

Her mouth fell open in utter disgust, and finally one of the tears that she’d kept from falling thus far tumbled down her cheek. Out of so many retorts she wanted to spit at him, all that she could manage in her fragile state was a “Fuck you!” before storming out of the dingy little room and back out into the chaos of the party.

“Close the damn door!” he shouted after her, slamming it as hard as he could and propping himself against it as he sunk to the tile floor, nursing his bloodied hand.

[sophie-i-guess13]

Okay, Sophie, hold on, wait, hold up, I have a question- or something you could turn into hc's for your AU??? So you posted a few months back, I think, of Sylvia, like, kinda panicking(?) over having a child with Tim, because he was thinking out loud, and said something along the lines of "what if we had a kid?" or something like that, and Tim had to like calm Sylvia down, and tell her that he, like stated earlier, was just thinking out loud...But how would everyone react if sylvia did end up pregnant again, but with Tim's kid?? Like would Sylvia keep the kid? or would she abort it? Would she go through with the pregnancy, but put the kid in the foster system after giving birth? Would Tim be excited? shocked? upset? Would he tell sylvia to abort it, or make her go through with it? How would buck and dal react? The girls from sylvias job? Loretta's old babysitter? What about Curly and Angela? Or the alley cats? Would anyone act differently? Like would Loretta get all sad because she realizes the baby is Tim's first ACTUAL biological kid, and thinks that the baby would be more important to him than she is? Would she get jealous because now everyone is paying more attention to the baby than her and shes not the center of attention? How would Loretta react in general? How would Ick!Billy react? Would he call Sylvia horrible names, because he's pissed that sylvia is pregnant with Tim's kid, and not his again? Would he spread lies about it not actually being Tim's kid, and say it's someone else's kid??? How would marina and Val react? How would the Shepard's nosey Italian neighbors react?? How would the Shepard's father react? Would he use it to get money out of Tim? Would he also spread lies about it not being Tim's kid? How would the few Curtis gang members who have been mentioned react when Dallas tells them Sylvia is pregnant again, but with Tim's kid? How would Sylvia's family react? What about senior Merrill? How do you think he Would react?? So sorry for the long ask, but this really got me thinking. Feel free to answer, or don't, it's really up to you. Also, I hit the jackpot on Pinterest posts that scream Loretta, or just your au in general. Anyway have I hope you have a good day/night! -🦴

I literally have so many ideas about this bones you have no idea I love you so much please never apologize for sending long asks I read them like letters from pen pals- this is just a quick little blurb that I thought of but I can go more in depth bc I actually had an idea for a fic about Dallas and Sylvia a few months ago that just seemed. Controversial™️ but is still like my little brain baby <3

Just like last time.

She knew first, of course, in a drug store bathroom. Pants to her knees, tears in her eyes. Guilt clawed at her heart next. Regret. Shame. She loved him— she really loved him. She’d do it right this time, they both would. Still, the hypotheticals were just as daunting as the teenage graffiti staining the off-white walls.

He knew second. When she walked through the door, colour draining from her face as the groceries slipped from her hip onto the kitchen table. He was one on the other side of the bathroom door, hearing her heave and cry, threatening to break it down if she didn’t at least unlock the damn thing. He knows when the knob twists and the door swings open, sees her sitting there with her forehead against her knees and tears tracing canyons through her makeup.

It wasn’t fair.

Things were just starting to work out. Loretta was in school now, none of the boys had been locked up in weeks. To start all over now? Just when these kids could pretend they were anything but? Not yet. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Everyone knows. It’s hard not to, with such thin walls and loud mouths. Word travels fast, from the house to Merrill’s bar, all the way back to the Curtis house. It’s only the eldest there now, with a wife and kids of his own. He won’t tell— there’s no one left to tell.

Word travels fast, through the house and through the boys that make up Shepard’s outfit, but none of them say a word when Loretta is carefully put to bed. Rough hands fall on her shoulders, reassuring squeezes. The boys stand, solemn and a bit awkward, in the doorway when the couple climb into a black t-bird, heading north for a ‘vacation,’ as the Socs in homeroom always said.

[localplaguenurse]

Hello it's me again here to yell at you some more about gold as ginkgo because WHAT IS YOUR WRITING???? OMG I'm at ch23 already and so much has happened fcvhbjknklml amazing storytelling!!

Now this is gonna get a biiiit personal mayhaps sorry if that makes you uncomfy maybe?? But I just want to express how much I *adore* the way you portray the protag's anxiety and particularly the internal conflict of coming out of a toxic relationship.

this paragraph, this one in particular got me literally crying. I kid you not I started weeping and then went to talk to my besties because it's so real it hit me so hard. I'm sorry many people can relate of course but I in particular I'm just coming out (~5 months or so) of a 12+ year old toxic relationship and I've been struggling SO HARD, really so hard. And that made me feel validated, that made me feel like yes it's a thing it's normal. (I too had straight up panic attacks that left me with hands shaking and crying)

It looks eerily a lot like something I'd told my best friend weeks ago

anyway idk I just want to say your writing is amazing, the pacing, the characterization. I love that wifey doesn't just "get over" things or "get better" int he way it's usually portrayed, it's organic and slow and she falls back into negative thoughts and stutters and gets anxious but they ARE getting better in the little things, in the confidence, in the healing, in the feeling comfortable.

And it's not just that, the social anxiety, the nonbinary struggle, the feel that you're annoying others and have to be hyper independent never asking for help. I may not fully relate to all of them but you do make them important on the story and I feel like you portray them all so well.

And Gods, Morax/Zhongli is so nice lmao <3 need me a partner like that //hit that is SUPER self-indulgent love it. He's all kind and patient and loving and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ;w; I love him your honor <3<3<3

Aaaaanyway loved their outing to the city, love Li Lei's character, loved wifey slowly growing out of their shell, love Morax fucking crashing injured in the middle of the night during a storm and Xiao and the panic and everything, the whole dealing with the Abbes CHILL MAN LITERALL CHILLS OMG. Love the golden smoke yes it is your signature ehe <3

(as a side note, I remember a lot of chapters ago this scene with Morax commenting about a storm incoming and then dissapearing and I was like.... is this some weird ass mandela effect or am I crazy bc I specifically remember this lore of dragons getting horny during the rain but NAAAHHH NO WAY the fic isn't going on that direction Crys pls chill your horny brain BUT THEN HAHAHAHA GUESS WHO WAS LOWKEY RIGHT??? I DID READ EYE OF THE STORM TOO TO BE FAIR. Also on the same line of my horny brain so sorry for this but wigey being so asdfcvhbnjmk about praise and compliment has me going PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK MORAX PLS!!!!//HIT)

ok that's enough this got way too long I apologize I got emotional n cried again I LOVE YOUR FIC!!!!!

I am going to get emotional, I'm getting the like heavy feeling in my eyes of "oh tears! may be soon!"

I'm also gonna get a little personal because it also ties in with the fic and just, y'know, if we're sharing then I'm gonna share too.

I've said numerous times that wifey's experiences with anxiety stem from my own. I was also writing this fic during a few very difficult parts of my life so I really leaned HARD into those aspects of their character. Something I also mentioned a few times is that I used to write stuff on wattpad, I got burnt out, and then I didn't post fic for five years (which now that I think of it, technically not true because I did post some things on amino back in high school, but y'know). I never really stopped writing, though. Gave me room to experiment and because I'm A) a lifelong fan of the dark and macabre (even though I'm actually a bit of a chicken baby), and B) very depressed/anxious, naturally I leaned more into darker writing. I liked to make it a point of writing happy endings but I would put my charcters through the fucking wringer.

I was also a huge people pleaser in high school that didn't know how to make friends aside from the ones I already had. You can imagine how fucking devastated I was when one day, fuckin completely out of the blue, I was booted from my friend group. I only had like five friends and I kept two of them after that shit. One of those friends was a girl I had known since first grade. For the next two years right up until covid hit I was like "well fuck, Charlotte, guess you've only got two friends now. It's only a matter of time before they get sick of you too." It took me maybe a year for me to realize it wasn't my fault that the people I trusted turned out to be shitty, and it wasn't until like a year or two ago that I was able to actually open up and talk about that shit because I've been terrified to actually be vulnerable with people since then.

That's only like some of my damage, I've also got the eldest daughter and "ah fuck I think I'm undiagnosed neurodivergent" trauma. Two for one combo! Love it here!

So, yeah, I got pretty good at writing and specifically writing about people dealing with toxic relationships. Part of it is venting, part of it is wanting to raise awareness for these things, and part of it is just, idk, I like writing this stuff. I'll write whatever if it's interesting enough.

Anyways, thank you so much!!! There's more I could go on about but that's spoilers, so I just wanna say I'm really really happy you like what I've done! Put my heart and soul into this baby. Also yes this is horrifically self indulgent lmao, this fic was like entirely catered to me and my beta reader and apparently everyone else is into it.

I hope your day or night is well, whatever time it is where you are!