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jessjad · 3 months ago

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Rightfully deceived

Chapter 5

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5355 (Sorry! 🙈)

Warnings: 18+ only!!! arranged marriage, some tension, angst, perilous situation, smut

A/N: This is a long one, guys. But I didn't want to split it up again. All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Running down the stairs Y/N saw Millie standing at the bottom who called after her, but she could not stop. She told her that she needed a minute and kept running out of the castle. She did not care about the looks from the others as she ran towards the staples. But she did not stop there.

Benny called after her, Sam too who stood next to him, but Y/N gave them no reaction. After she left the stable behind her, she just kept running. Up the next hill as far as her feet would take her and until the castle was no longer visible. Y/N first stopped again at a small group of trees where she could hide inside. She needed time to think and just wanted to be alone. At least for a little while.

Here, her tears could fall freely and her heart could break. Another crack breaking the smooth red surface. She just didn't know what to do anymore. Dean wasn't on her side. No, he preferred another woman. And of course she understood his anger, but it had been over two months now. He should slowly get used to it or at least try to understand her side. It wasn't easy for Y/N either.

The fact that she loved Dean didn't make it any easier. His distance and that cold shoulder hit her hard. It could be so easy, if only he saw her as more than the woman who had robbed him of his happiness. He didn't mention Helena anymore, but sometimes she had the feeling that he looked at her and saw her sister's face.

Maybe she should just walk away, pack her things and disappear. Unfortunately it wasn't that easy. She had no money of her own and there was no question of her taking Dean's money. And she couldn't and didn't want to go back to her father. She missed her clan and the life she was used to for so long, but she actually wanted to start over here with Dean. She loved him and that was the problem. Deep down, she just couldn't leave him. She was hopelessly lost.

A cool wind rushed through the branches and leaves, swirling the fabric of her dress. If only she had grabbed a coat. She found a moss-covered spot near the roots of a large tree, where she sat down and leaned her back against the trunk. She wasn't ready to go back yet.

Dean had just stared after Y/N before the anger caused him to sweep his desk empty with his arm and knock any objects onto the floor. He took a few deep breaths before took to his heels and ran after her. At the bottom of the stairs, Millie was standing exactly as he had left her before.

"Where is she?" he asked and Millie pointed a finger to the door.

"She went out."

So Dean made his way towards the entrance of his castle, but Millie hold him back.

"Dean, wait!" she lightly grabbed his arm to stop him. "Don't go after her. At least not right now."

"What?" his brows furrowed. "But I need to talk to her."

"I know her, Dean, believe me. She was so upset... give her some time to calm down. No matter what you said to her now, she would take it the wrong way."

"I... I don't like that. I should talk to her right now. There was a misunderstanding that needs to be cleared up."

And by that he meant the last sentence that slipped out of his mouth. He shouldn't have said that and he had to clarify that. But he also had to clarify other things. Y/N's words had made him think and he had realized that his behavior towards her simply wasn't fair. However, he had been staying away from her for different reasons than she probably assumed.

"What happened up there?" MIllie asked.

Just as Dean was about to tell him about the package, the door opened and Benny and Sam walked in. So the two men were also brought up to date and then Dean expressed Y/N's suspicion that it was Cassie. Sam and Benny exchanged a look that didn't go unnoticed by Dean and Millie looked down so as not to reveal that she knew about this assumption.

"What? You already knew about it?" he asked incredulously.

"Dean..." Sam started. "Cassie always wanted to marry you."

"So what? That's her motive? She knew that I was going to marry someone else."

"Yeah, but she was not happy when she heared that Y/N is not the right woman." Benny said.

"I mean... you only need to look how she behaves infront of you." Sam pointed out.

"And how she behaves towards Y/N. She makes it pretty clear that she is not happy that Y/N is here."

Well, that were news to Dean. But on the other hand, he had been gone for a while. He had never noticed that Cassie avoided Y/N like that. No matter who he saw Y/N with, they all seemed to like her now and she seemed to get along with everyone. She fit the bill really well.

"Okay. This is not happening. Not under my watch." Dean said and made his way back up the stairs. "Call everyone into the dining hall!" He had to do something.

Fifteen minutes later all the clan members were gathered around the large table, at the head of which Dean stood, the package in his hand. A murmur went through the crowd as no one could really explain what the problem was. Dean looked around and saw Jo and Alex standing with Cassie. Benny was standing near the door and Sam was across the room from him. Millie had fought her way to Jo without Cassie or Alex noticing her.

"When I came back from my business trip today, I actually had the impression that everything was fine. But then Y/N found this in our bedroom." and with a thud he dropped the package onto the table after removing the lid.

The severed cat's head almost fell out of the box, causing shocked exclamations among those present.

"This is a threat that should go to Y/N. But this threat also goes to me and I cannot and will not accept that. Y/N is now my wife and I had the impression that you all received her well But apparently I was wrong."

An incomprehensible murmur now went through the crowd, accompanied by the underlying question of who could do such a thing. Dean observed the reactions of the different people, but couldn't notice anything unusual, not even with Cassie.

"So that's how it's going to go here now." Dean raised his voice a little so that everyone would really listen to him. "Whoever did it has the opportunity to own up to it and admit it now. However, if that person doesn't speak up and I find out who it was...then God have mercy on him."

It was slowly getting dark and the temperature had dropped noticeably, but Y/N still couldn't go back. She had seen Sam and Dean riding horses across the countryside, calling out to her. She could also hear Benny, who was probably looking for her somewhere near the stables. Still, she couldn't reveal herself.

If Dean confronted her now, she would probably pour her heart out to him. She had noticed one thing in the last few hours. Her nerves were pretty thin and she wouldn't be able to handle any further rejection of her confession. She still hadn't completely calmed down. So she would now wait until the men gave up their search for the day and then sneak into Arrow's stable.

It took a few hours until Y/N felt safe enough to head back. By now it was pitch black and the cold was now creeping into her bones. Even though she was probably no longer visible, she walked slowly and deliberately. Always keeping an eye on the castle and its surroundings while she ducked again and again.

A lantern was burning in the stable and the candle wouldn't last much longer. However, it still provided enough light for Y/N to find the right box. As soon as Arrow recognized her, he whinnied happily and raised and lowered his head. She immediately tried to calm him down so that he wouldn't give her position away. However, that took a few moments.

"Oh Arrow. What am I supposed to do?"

The horse pushed Y/N's head closer to him as soon as the young woman stood in the box with him. As if he understood her words and recognized that she was struggling inside. She hugged him back, enjoying the feeling of safety and familiarity in that moment.

"That came from the stable! I think it was Arrow!"

Suddenly she heard Benny's voice, which seemed to come from the castle. But he wasn't alone.

"I'll take a look!" Alex called back, seemingly closer.

Oh no, she didn't want to be discovered yet. But after looking around and not really finding a place to hide, Y/N went to the end of the box, sat on the floor and piled the hay up above her. She tried to hide under it as best she could and just hoped she wouldn't be noticed.

Then she heard footsteps coming towards her. She could still see a little through the pile of hay above her head and at some point she saw Alex's legs and how he was walking through the stable. He stopped briefly at Arrow, spoke a few words to him and then went out again.

"She is not here. Everything looks normal." Alex stated as he seemed to walk back to the castle.

Relief flooded through Y/N and she was able to release the breath she had previously been holding. Quietly and carefully, she dug herself out of the hay again. The candle in the lantern barely gave off any light now. Arrow came over and sat down next to her, resting his head on her lap. Y/N also leaned into him a little.

"Just a little longer." She whispered while petting Arrow. "I'll just stay with you a little longer and then I'll go back."

Dean paced around the bedroom. It was already the middle of the night and Y/N still hadn't returned. A bad feeling slowly began to spread within him. After all, it was his fault that it had gotten this far. He had scared her away and made her feel like running away was the only solution. His absence and the silence with which he had punished her had been too much.

And yes, he now knew that he had unconsciously punished Y/N with his behavior. He hadn't married the woman he wanted and in a way Y/N was to blame. But that wasn't really why he had acted like that. Because now he also knew that there was an even more confusing reason for him. He stopped in front of the window and looked out into the cold, dark night.

Back then he had already imagined everything in his head. What the wedding with Helena would be like, their life afterwards here in his castle. What the next five years could have been like. The first child, then the second. For a long time these had just been fantasies for him, but after he got to know Helena, he could easily imagine that the fantasies could be true. He had really had feelings for the young woman.

But then the wedding night was over and in the next morning came disillusionment. He hadn't married Helena, but Y/N. That really threw him off track. And yet there were parallels between him and his wife. That's why he took her with him. And actually he had planned to just see how it goes. It was just the way it was now.

But the journey back to the castle alone had been a challenge. As soon as Y/N sat in front of him, his penis began to stir again. Her soft, round ass against his hips, the scent that wafted from her hair into his nose, had inevitably brought back the images of their night together.

And from then on, every night had been difficult for him. Every minute he had been alone with Y/N he had had to pull himself together. So often his fingers had itched to hold her in his arms or even kiss her. But he wasn't sure if she would have wanted that. After all, she had married him out of necessity and not because she wanted to.

So he went on business trips. But the distance didn't make things any better. When he lay in bed at night and let his thoughts wander, he always saw Y/N in front of him. He thought of her, of the things she had told him and of their night together. She had really caught him off guard and made him long for her. How crazy was all that?

He couldn't stay in the room any longer. With his coat in hand, he made his way back downstairs. The castle lay still and quiet, peaceful, as if nothing had happened. He opened the door and stood on the stairs, his gaze turned back to the dark landscape. His wife was out there somewhere and he was just hoping she would come back so he could talk to her and explain himself. So he could finally do it right.

"Dean?"

Slightly startled, Dean turned to the voice and recognized Ellen, who was standing in front of the kitchen with a candle in her hand and looking at him in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" she asked and came over to him.

"Y/N is still out there somewhere. She still hasn't come back." his gaze turned back.

"But she will come back eventually. She probably just needed time. After what you told me, Dean... you really made a mistake."

"I know!" he exclaimed angry at himself. "But I'm hoping it's not to late now."

Ellen didn't say anything else, but her heart ached a little for Dean. She was also worried about Y/N and hoped that she would show up again soon. She placed a warm hand on Dean's shoulder, showing him her silent support. After a few minutes, however, she broke the silence again.

"Has anyone come forward about the allegations yet?"

"No. And it looks like noone will either."

"She was really on edge last week. Whoever followed her had made her feel really uneasy."

"You also knew about it?" Dean asked surprised.

"Yes. She told me about it."

"Did she also tell you that she that she suspected Cassie?"

"No. But that does not surprise me." Dean looked at Ellen questioningly and she smiled a little. "Have you ever seen how she looks at you? She's jealous. And she's ignoring Y/N since the moment she came here. It would make sense."

With that Ellen was right, but he could hear a 'but' in her sentence. So he asked he to explain.

"when you called the meeting this afternoon and showed us what it was about, Jo overheard Cassie talking to Alex."

"And?" Dean now was eager to know.

"She wasn't as shocked as everyone else about the contents of the box, but she was probably still surprised. And then she said to Alex that she thought the act was good and that it was a shame that she hadn't thought of it herself."

"So she indirectly admitted that it wasn't her... And Jo believes her?"

"Yes. And I believe that too, by the way." now Dean looked surprised and Ellen explained her statement. "She once helped me in the kitchen and was supposed to pluck a chicken. She almost vomited. And the animal was already dead."

"So she couldn't have killed the cat." Dean mused.

"No. Not her. Unless she had an accomplice. But I believe Jo that it wasn't Cassie. My daughter has known her longer than I have."

That made sense in Dean's eyes. "But who was it then?"

"That's exactly the question, Dean. Who did it?"

Early the next morning Benny made his way to the stable. He hadn't been able to find any real peace either. So he wanted to check on Arrow. The sky slowly became brighter, making last night's frost glitter like stars. It had been the coldest night yet. He lit the lanterns and then ran the boxes. Everything seemed quiet, but when he glanced into Arrow's box, he had to do a double take.

There, right next to Arrow in the hay, lay Y/N and she was pretty pale. Benny walked straight towards her, which startled the horse, but it remained calm on the ground. Upon closer inspection, Benny saw that Y/N had sweat on her forehead and her lips were blue.

He didn't have to think about it for long. Benny lifted her out of the hay into his arms and made his way to the castle. She urgently needed to get somewhere warm and Dean needed to know about it too. He hadn't left the stable when Alex stood in front of him, looking quite frightened.

"Go call Dean. Tell him I found Y/N and that she needs help." Benny ordered, but Alex didn't seem to be able to move. "GO!"

Suddenly the young man came back to life and turned around to run back into the castle. Benny also hurried to get there while speaking quietly to the woman in his arms. He noticed how she was shaking and the cold radiating from her body worried him deeply.

He was just walking in the door when Dean appeared in front of him and took Y/N into his arms. But the two were not alone. Apparently Alex had woken up half the castle.

"Benny, ride off and bring the doctor here immediately! Don't take any detours and if he refuses, then tell him that money doesn't matter!" Dean called over his shoulder as he hurried up the stairs with Y/N.

Millie followed Dean straight up the stairs and opened the bedroom door for him when they reached the top. After they entered, Millie pulled back the covers so Dean could lay Y/N there and tuck her right back in.

"Millie, can you please get a few more blankets from the guest rooms? I'll light the fire in the meantime so that it gets warm in here."

"Of course." Milllie said and set off straight away.

After Millie disappeared from the room, Dean looked down at Y/N. Her face was so pale that her blue lips formed a shocking contrast. God, this was all his fault. Just because he once again spoke first before he could think about his words. So he did something useful and started the fire in the fireplace.

Still, it took over an hour for Benny to get back. Only he didn't have the doctor with him, but someone else. A thin man with dark skin sat on another horse. Not as dark as Cassie's skin, but different nonetheless. He wore a turban on his head.

“Doctor MacGregor wasn’t home. He was called to an emergency in Dundreggan last night. But his guest from India is also a doctor." Benny pointed to the man next to him and introduced him. "This is Mr. Gupta. He's an... ajurwedish doctor. Correct?"

"Yes." the man said with an strong accent. "And I'm here to help. If you're willing to let me."

For a moment Dean was skeptical, but then he remembered that every second counted. And so he gave the man his hand and explained the situation to him as they made their way up to Y/N. He saw the concerned and puzzled looks from some of the others they passed, but he ignored them.

Mr. Gupta examined Y/N thoroughly, explaining every step and his findings to Dean. They had already done the right thing by wrapping her up warm and heating the room well, but that wouldn't be enough.

"She is hypothermic. Her body temperature is already in the critical range. Under no circumstances should the room lose heat. At some point she will try to free herself from the blankets, but that must not happen either."

Meanwhile, Millie was back in the room and she and Dean took in all the information and agreed on care for Y/N in the next few days.

"In addition, I will prepare a decoction and a warming paste for her. If used regularly, her condition should improve in the next week. But it will take time."

But Dean didn't care. The main thing is that Y/N would feel better soon. He wouldn't lose her like this. That was out of the question.

Y/N felt weird. She felt hot and cold at the same time, her head was pounding and she was shaking. She noticed noises but couldn't identify them. In general, she didn't know whether she was dreaming or awake.

Whenever she tried to free herself from the sea of blankets under which she felt buried and was sweating from the heat, Dean's face appeared above her, encouraging her to stay under the blankets.

Other times, when the cold made her shiver and she felt the blankets being pulled away, she tried to bury herself under them again. But even then Dean's face appeared, reassuring her that it wouldn't take long as he caressed her. But when he stopped, these parts of his body became really warm and drove away the cold.

And sometimes she had a terrible spicy taste in her mouth that made her thirsty. Then Millie was with her to help her drink. Or were those just dreams too? She simply couldn't tell the difference and so she always hoped that her consciousness would just slip back into the silent nothingness where she could no longer feel anything.

The next time Y/N woke up she felt different. More awake with a clearer mind. She was still cold, but she finally felt like herself again. And she realized that this wasn't a dream. She was really awake. With tired limbs, she moved slowly and moaned slightly.

"Y/N? Y/N!" She heard Dean's excited voice and searched for him with her eyes once she got used to the brightness.

"How are you? Do you need anything?" suddenly he was at her side, holding her hand.

"No, I... I'm fine. I'm just... a little tired and I'm still a little cold." She said quietly, wondering what even happened.

But it didn't take long for the memories to catch up with her again. She didn't go back the night after she escaped. She had fallen asleep at Arrow's side and had lain in the freezing stable all night. It had been her own fault.

She saw Dean take a deep breath and close his eyes briefly before speaking again. "Stay there. I'll call Millie and the doctor." and then he disappeared through the door.

Half an hour later, Dean made his way outside and walked over to Sam, who was chopping firewood. With a firm step he ran towards his brother, who looked at him worriedly after noticing him. Sam put down the axe.

"Dean? Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Yes, everything is fine." answered the older man, took the ax in his hand and began to boldly chop wood.

"Are you sure? Is something wrong with Y/N?" Sam probed.

"No." he swung the axe. "She woke up and was lucid again." again the ax thundered downwards. "She's doing much better than she has in the last few days." with the third blow the log was split.

But then Sam realized what was really going on with his brother. He had seen how the guilt had eaten away at Dean over the last few days. He had made huge accusations against himself, even if he hadn't admitted it. So Sam left him alone with the firewood, knowing that Dean would have to use it to release his pent-up emotions. But still the hope spread within him that this was finally the turning point.

An hour later, most of the firewood had been cut down and Dean was sweaty and exhausted. But he felt better. Now it was time to start all over again.

He made his way back into the castle when Mr. Gupta came out. Dean thanked him for his help and said goodbye to him with kind words. The doctor had made another decoction and prescribed Y/N two more days of bed rest in addition to a hot bath, but he was sure that she would recover completely. She just had to take it slowly and Dean would make sure of that.

When Dean came into the bedroom, it wasn't as warm as before and Y/N was still sitting in the hot tub. She was slightly startled when she saw Dean come in, but didn't say anything. That hit Dean a little, but he could also understand her behavior. After all, he was guilty of it himself and it was entirely up to him to change that.

He undressed and walked towards the tub. Y/N scooted forward to make room for him and once he was in the tub, she wanted to get out. But Dean stopped her and made her sit back down. He picked up the bar of soap that was lying on a small stool next to the tub and immediately recognized the scent. That's why Y/N always smelled so seductive.

By now the bar of soap was pretty thin and he made a mental note that he needed to bring her some again. After Dean had cleaned himself up, he leaned back in the tub and gently pulled Y/N along by the shoulders. She reacted a little stiffly at first, but quickly relaxed again and secretly enjoyed the feeling of finally being able to be so close to Dean again.

When the water slowly got cold, they got out of the tub again. Dean first so he could grab a towel for Y/N. He held it out to her openly after Y/N also had both feet on dry land and wrapped it around his shoulders. Suddenly they were so close. Body to body, face to face that Dean cleared his throat and had to take a few steps back so he didn't do anything rash.

"Dry yourself off and then go back to bed. I'll get you some real food." Dean said as he quickly got dressed and then disappeared from the room.

Later that evening, when Y/N was slowly making her way to dreamland again, Dean sat by the fire and looked over at the bed. Y/N lay there with her eyes closed, cheeks rosy, hair down and a relaxed expression on her face. And for the first time in days, Dean was able to breathe deeply.

After he had brought his wife and himself something to eat upstairs and they were sitting together, he remembered a situation that had happened in his childhood. On one of their trips when he and Sam were younger, his brother once fell into a frozen lake. Her father noticed immediately and didn't hesitate for a second to pull him out and Sam was quickly fine again.

Nevertheless, he had told Y/N about it and she seemed to just absorb his words. So he didn't stop talking. He told her about many things and she literally hung on his every word. Why hadn't he done this before? It was so easy to confide in her and even though he didn't like talking about himself in general, he felt comfortable with Y/N in doing so.

The tiredness slowly overcame him and so it didn't take long until Dean settled down in bed. Moving close to Y/N, he quickly fell asleep too.

But just a few hours later, Dean woke up with a start. He didn't know why, but his hand immediately searched the side of the bed next to him, expecting to feel Y/N. But her side was empty and already cold.

“Y/N?” he exclaimed, sitting up at the same time.

"I am here. I couldn't stay lying down anymore." She replied quietly with a smile and his eyes found her directly.

She was sitting by the fire, her hair falling over her shoulders and she had a book in her hand. But Dean couldn't take his eyes off of her. The orange glow of the flames painted her face and made her appear almost angelic. Dean's breath caught in his throat and he sank back onto the bed.

'God, she is so beautiful. Why didn't I notice this before?' he thought to himself.

After a moment he straightened up slightly and looked over at Y/N again.

“Will you please come back to bed?”

Y/N looked at him a little surprised, but then nodded. "Okay."

She put her book aside and came back to the bed. Dean had already lifted the blankets, implicitly inviting her to slide closer to him. Y/N was very happy to accept this offer. Once she was at his side, her head on his chest, he covered them both again.

"You really scared me." Dean said shortly afterwards into the comfortable silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Y/N replied quietly.

Dean looked down at Y/N. "Please don't just run away again. Not until I can talk to you."

Upon those words Y/N looked up at Dean. "I won't. I promise." and she meant it, because she wouldn't be able to go through this again.

They looked deeply into each other's eyes and suddenly it was as if time stood still. Dean couldn't hold back anymore. With a hand on her cheek, he leaned down to Y/N until his lips were on hers. He kissed her carefully at first, but Y/N didn't seem to mind the kiss. And as soon as Dean felt her tongue on his lower lip, he was done for.

He deepened the kiss and turned a little more towards Y/N, who was able to put her leg on his hip. His hand moved up her thigh until it came to rest on her ass.

She buried her hands in his hair and began to slowly rub herself against him. She moaned slightly into his mouth while his hand, which was on her butt, went back to wandering. The nightdress that Y/N was wearing had slipped onto her own hips. With his thigh he opened her legs a little more so that his already stiff cock could nestle against her warm center.

Dean could already feel how wet she was and he had to hold himself together not to just push into her. But when Y/N's hand landed on his ass shortly afterwards and she pushed him closer to her, he literally slid into her. So he turned her so that she was lying on her back and sank his last few inches into her.

They both groaned and Dean wasted no time. He moved slowly but forcefully inside her. He carried out each of his thrusts with passion as he uncovered Y/N's breasts and caressed them there with his mouth. He licked her nipples and bit them tenderly, making her moans grow louder.

At some point he picked up the pace a little and licked from her breasts over her collarbone to her neck. That bittersweet pressure built up inside Y/N again and she searched with her lips for Dean's, who was only too happy to kiss her back.

He felt Y/N start to throb around his cock and began to chase his own orgasm. Y/N moved with him, holding onto his shoulders and as she jumped over the edge, he followed her just seconds later. He poured himself deep and hard into her while Y/N enjoyed the aftershocks.

They both looked deeply into each other's eyes as their pulses slowly calmed down. But neither really wanted to let go of the other. So they lay there entangled in each other and fell asleep together again.

A/N: I told you that everything would get better again. Let's just hope it stays that way. 😶 Let me know what you think. Feedback is very much appreciated! 💜

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devotedlyandrogynousyouth · 2 months ago

Note

The Dick Grayson angst stories broke me into so many pieces. Like shattered isn't even a work comparable to how I felt after reading them. I loveeeeeeeee your writing style so much, however I was wondering if you'd be open to writing an angst Dick Grayson story which has comfort too? pleaseeeee my aching heart is dying over here LMAO

Yes sir💪💪💪

Keep these reqs coming because I actually giggle and kick my feet like a little kid every time you guys send in an ask

Maybe You're Enough

Richard Grayson x Insecure! Reader

Angst with some fluff and comforting because Im feeling nice today<3

Leaned against the railing of the rooftop and staring out over the city as the cool night air bit at your skin felt just a little bit more cold tonight. The glow of Gotham's lights flickered below, but they couldn't chase away the dark thoughts that clouded your mind. You had tried to shake it off, but every time Richard was around Barbara, you felt a pang in your chest, a familiar ache that had only grown stronger with each passing day.

It had been months since you and Dick started dating, and while everything had seemed perfect at first, things had started to shift in subtle, unsettling ways. He had always been close to Barbara — that was something you knew when you first met him. But recently, it felt like the bond between them had deepened. They had been through so much together, fighting side by side, and the way they interacted, the way they spoke to each other... it made you feel like you were just a distraction. Like you were the one who didn’t belong.

You weren’t jealous, or at least you didn’t want to be. You trusted Dick. You knew he cared about you. But the quiet moments where he would zone out while talking to Barbara, or the long hours they spent alone training together in the cave, left you feeling more like an afterthought.

Sighing, you pushed yourself away from the railing and walked toward the stairs, your mind racing with thoughts you couldn’t quite control. You needed space. You needed to clear your head.

But before you could reach the door, you heard his voice.

“Hey, you alright?”

Dick was standing at the top of the stairs, his eyes soft but concerned. The moment you saw him, the weight in your chest doubled. How could you explain how you were feeling without sounding irrational? Without making him feel guilty for something you weren’t sure he even realized?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied, giving him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

You sighed, finally looking at him. His hair was tousled from the wind, and he wore that soft, caring expression that always made your heart skip. You knew he loved you. You knew he would never intentionally hurt you. But sometimes, you couldn’t help but wonder if your presence in his life was just... temporary. He had so many other people who understood him in ways you couldn’t. People like Barbara.

“It’s just…” you hesitated, the words hard to form, “I can’t help but feel like... maybe you care about Babs more. I mean, you two have history. And I’m just... I’m just here. I’m not a part of all of that. And I don’t know... it just makes me feel like I’m not enough.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Dick's expression faltered, and you could see the guilt in his eyes. You wanted to take it all back, but you couldn’t. The feeling had been building inside you for so long.

Dick closed the distance between you, gently cupping your face in his hands. His touch was soft, grounding. “Hey, look at me,” he whispered. You met his gaze, eyes shining with unshed tears you refused to let fall. “I care about Babs, I always will. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. You’re not a replacement, and you’re not just a distraction. I’m with you because I want to be. I’m here with you because you make me feel whole. I don’t want anyone else, not like I want you.”

You felt the lump in your throat tighten, your breath shaky as you struggled to hold it together. “But what if I’m not enough? What if...”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice firm but kind. “You are more than enough. You’ve always been more than enough for me. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel otherwise. I’m not perfect, and I mess up sometimes. But I’m here, with you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, feeling his words sink in. The weight on your chest slowly started to lift as the sincerity in his eyes calmed your restless heart. He was right. Maybe you had been overthinking things. Dick Grayson, the man who had seen and done so much, was here, with you, wanting you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I shouldn’t have... I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

Dick smiled gently, pulling you into his arms. “No, don’t apologize. I get it. I’ll do better to show you how much you mean to me, okay?”

You nodded against his chest, feeling safe in his embrace. The night seemed a little less dark now. The weight of your insecurities had lifted, if only for the moment. With him by your side, it felt just a little bit warmer during the cold Gotham night.

“You mean the world to me,” he murmured, his voice a soothing whisper in the night.

Masterlist

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lovecla · 5 months ago

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IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter seven:

➴ warnings: brief mention of smut

➴ word count: 2.4k

➴ author’s note: is the thing people say about rainstorms before rainbows true? i guess it’s time for soph and jack to find out. “happy” reading ♡

FALLING out of love was something you had yet to experience.

Of course, back then you thought you had fallen out of love with Harris, but soon you’d realize that you had never really loved him. It was some kind of strong admiration, a need to have someone to call yours, someone who you could write love songs for, someone who you could imagine yourself getting old with.

‘Course, none of those things happened with Harris, not even during your honeymoon phase. You were young when you started dating him, twenty-one and with no real idea of what love truly was.

So an older actor who thought you were cute?

It felt like you had hit the jackpot.

But now, as you try your hardest to forget what Jack meant— means— to you, you realize that it isn’t as easy as you initially thought it would be.

Jack is everywhere, occupying every corner of your mind. You remember how sweet he’d talk to you after sex, always treating you with kindness and making sure you were well taken care of. How he’d send you memes that were purely about Hockey even if you never understood what was so funny about them, how he’d get excited talking about his job and how he’d try to explain all the terms to you.

Despite what happened, Jack had made you so happy. It was sad to think that it was all probably a joke to him, but for you? No, it was real. So real. Every time you looked at his face, you reminded yourself that some things are not meant to last forever.

But God knew how much you wanted him to be your forever.

Keeping yourself busy was easy, and you were thankful for that. Your small concert, a week ago, filled you with so much joy and contentment— you were alive and not thinking about the middle child of the Hughes family for the first time in seven months.

Grace made sure that you took enough breaks but whenever you were alone with your thoughts for a long time, the first image your brain liked to share with you was Jack’s smile and Jack’s eyes and Jack’s nose and lips.

It was tiring.

You didn’t tell anyone, but you secretly watched his games when you were alone at night. You didn’t know much, but the experts keep saying that this is Hughes’ worst season and that he’s playing like shit, which, unfortunately, made you worry.

But you wouldn’t go back, you couldn’t go back.

Sometimes, at night, you’d remember how he looked at you when you told him you were in love with him. Or how he looked when you told him to leave, so desperate for you to hear him, at least for a few more minutes.

You’d replay that day inside of your head every night, like a nighttime routine, trying to find a different, better ending.

You’d always come up empty.

Sighing, you looked at your phone, reading Grace’s text with a smile.

Grace being Grace.

Even if she technically worked for you, you’ve barely seen Grace the past couple of days. You were both so busy it was almost impossible to keep up with each other’s schedule. But you did manage to free up some space so you could at least have lunch with her, and turns out she thought it’d be cool to include Nico too.

So, lunch at Nico’s house.

You said goodbye to the people who were working with you at the GQ photo shoot and drove to his house, blasting music through your speakers. No thoughts allowed!

You rang the doorbell, waiting until Grace herself opened the door, like she owned the house. You still weren’t sure if you wanted to know what was truly happening between the two of them, so you didn’t ask questions.

“Hi, my little popstar,” Grace shouted, hugging you tightly.

“Stop putting little before every noun when you’re referring to me.” You mumbled, face still shoved in the crook of her neck.

“Why would I do that? It’s fun and true. Come inside, Nico’s ordering pizza!”

You entered the house, feeling your cheeks getting warm when you remembered what happened the last time you were here.

“Shut the fuck up, Sophia,” during sex, he only used your name whenever he was really pissed, and apparently this was one of those times. “Don’t need anyone hearing how much of a whore you actually are.”

“Fuck, uh, come for me, baby, c’mon,” Jack whispered, hands still on you, dick fucking you hard and rough, leaving your insides raw and deliciously hurting. “Come on my cock like the good girl you are.”

Well. No more of that.

“No— Man, listen. I want a large pepperoni and a large margherita, please,” Nico smiled at you before putting his hand on his head, holding his phone with the other. “Why the hell would I put pineapple on a fucking pepperoni pizza? Let me speak to your manager, that’s— that’s a crime.”

“He’s just a Swiss Karen, really,” Grace sighed, sitting on the couch. You sat next to her, watching as Hischier tried to explain to the manager why pineapples shouldn’t even be included in pizzas in the first place. “I think he’s just nervous about the games.”

“Yeah,” you wanted to tell her that you’ve been watching the games and that it didn’t look really good for them but it would just give your I’m-already-over-Jack facade away. “Must be hard.”

“Tell me about it, I barely see him. It’s like hockey players only exist during the summer or whatever.” She sighed again, fixing her braids. You looked at her, full of compassion.

If you and Jack dated, would you feel like her?

No.

You wouldn’t know the answer to that question because that won’t happen.

“Hi, Soph,” you heard the Devils’ captain say, greeting you.

“Hey there, thirteen. How are you?”

He yawned, stretching his arms. “Tired, stressed, hungry, tired.” He stopped for a second before continuing. “Have I mentioned tired?”

“Sucks to be you, to be honest,” you giggled, looking at him funny.

The pizza would take a while to get delivered— especially since Nico argued with the manager and now they were probably taking their time spitting on the dough— so you used the time to catch up on their lives.

Grace talked about how her marketing degree never prepared her for how much work she’d actually have to get done, and how much she missed her mom and dad, and how Jessica, your vocal coach, was starting to piss her off with her I-am-better-than-everyone attitude.

Nico talked about the games, and how he basically was never at home, and how he’d spend half of his time on planes and the other half on practice and yet he still felt like they weren’t going to make it.

That made you wonder how Jack was doing with all of this. If he had come back to Newark after their week away, to spend thanksgiving with his family.

Not that you cared, you just wondered.

Noticing how both Grace and Nico stayed quiet, you realized that they’re probably waiting for you to update them on your life. You smiled awkwardly.

“I have been working a lot,” you shrugged. “I love what I do so it isn’t exactly working for me. Besides that, I sleep, eat and drink water.”

They both looked at you with pity, which made your stomach ache. You didn’t want anyone pitying you, in fact, you didn’t need it. You weren’t a damsel in distress, you didn’t need to be saved— you just chose to spend your free time alone. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.

“I’m gonna go grab some wine from the cellar, be right back,” Nico announced, out of nowhere, getting up and heading downstairs. Grace looked at him with puppy eyes and you laughed.

“People in love are disgusting,” you joked, and Grace rolled her eyes at you.

“Shut it, Twilight,” she laughed, not denying it. “I’m gonna go grab the glasses.”

The doorbell rang and you got up. “It looks like I’m gonna go grab the pizza.”

“Make sure they didn’t put poison in it!” Grace shouted, making her way to the kitchen, while you walked until you were in front of the door, smiling still.

“Sophia?”

Hi, Universe. It’s your girl, Sophia. So, what is this about? What are you trying to do here? Let me tell you now, it won’t work.

“Hum, hi?” It sounded more like a question than a greeting, but out of all things you would have imagined that could happen to you that day, opening the door and finding Jack on the other side of it wasn’t on your list.

“What are you,” he stuttered, clutching hard the bag he was holding in his hands. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’m sorry.”

You leaned against the door, confusion taking over your face. Jack wasn’t the type of man to apologize so easily.

“It’s fine.”

You both went quiet, staring at each other. It was weird to be around Jack without touching him, your heart still hurting because you love him deeply.

It was the type of love you’d want to tell your children, if you decided to have them one day. The type of love where you’d come home after a long day, just to find your forever sitting on the couch, yapping about his day. The type of love you read in books and watch movies about, the type of love you want to write songs about. The type of love where his hugs feel like a cold, gentle breeze during a sunny day, and his kisses felt like the fireworks on the Fourth of July.

You loved Jack Hughes deeply and he wanted him to be your forever more than anything.

But it wouldn’t happen. And it’s fine. It’d be fine.

“Do you want me to call Nico?” You whispered, averting his gaze.

“You don’t need to, I just stopped by to give him this,” he raised the bag in his hands, shrugging.

“Okay…” You nodded, not sure of what to say. “Then, I guess I’m… gonna go. Nice seeing you.” You lied, because you’d much rather keep watching him on TV, with a safe distance between you two, than to face him in real life.

“No, Soph, wait—” he called you, putting his feet between the door gap. “Can we, like, talk?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jack.” You retorted, biting your bottom lip.

“Soph, did they spit on our pizza?” Grace’s voice sounded cheerful behind you, and you cringed, knowing exactly how she’s going to react once she sees Jack here. “I hope they only spitted on Nico’s pizza, to be honest. What are you doing there— Oh.”

You turned around and looked at her, smiling awkwardly. No one moved a muscle for at least ten seconds and you gave in, knowing that discussing things with her would be harder than hearing Jack out.

“I’ll just… I’ll be right back, okay?” You announced, pointing to Jack behind you. “It’s fine.”

“But—”

“It’s fine, Grace. Go find Nico, please.” You pleaded, not wanting to feel any shittier. Grace only stared at Jack for what seemed to be a whole minute before nodding once and making her way to Nico.

“I guess she still hates me.” Jack pointed out, chuckling humorlessly.

You turned around, raising your eyebrows at him. “Can you blame her?”

“No, not really,” he shrugged, putting the bag on the floor and putting his hands inside of his jeans’ pockets. “I get that you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you, I’m not mad at you. Hurt? Maybe. But I knew what I was getting myself into, so I guess I can’t really blame you.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying really hard to be the bigger person when all you wanted to do was smash his face into a wall and kiss him right after that.

“I want you to know that I am sorry about what happened,” he stepped closer, making you smell his cologne, sandalwood and something else that smelled a lot like money. Weird combination but it worked for him. “Truly. I didn’t fuck Ava or any other woman while we were together. I— I just wanted to be with you, Soph, I need you to know that.”

You stared at his face, trying so hard to find the same expression you found on your ex’s face whenever he lied and manipulated you. But you couldn’t— Jack was still the same as he was seven months ago, when he hit on you at that dinner party.

He still looked like the guy who held you close after sex, the guy who order take out for you just because he knew you’d get too tired to cook for yourself, the guy who had a playlist just for his favorite songs by you, the guy who never understood your chronically online memes but laughed nonetheless because he said the way you laugh is funnier than the joke itself.

Jack still looked like he could be your forever.

So close yet so fucking distant.

You could feel yourself slipping into him again and you knew you couldn’t do this with yourself. You had to choose yourself before choosing anyone else.

“You don’t need to say sorry,” you whispered, smiling softly. “It’s fine. As you said, we weren’t even dating. I bet you wouldn’t have reacted the way I did if it’d been the other way around.”

He looked at you like you had grown a second head. “I would’ve gone crazy if it was the other way around. Sophia, I know it’s hard to believe but—”

“It’s fine, Jack, it really is,” you stated, shaking your head. “I accept your apologies but I think—” you broke eye contact, stepping back. “I think it’s just best if we stay out of each other’s way.”

You couldn’t tell which one of you cracked first. Jack, who looked at you like he’d seen a ghost, let his shoulders fall, looking as dejected as ever. You could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes but you held on tight. You had already cried in front of him once, and you weren’t going to do that again.

“Soph,” you heard his voice, so soft and so unlike him. “Soph, you don’t… you don’t mean that, baby.”

“I do,” you looked up, squeezing your eyes shut. “I do, Jack. And it will be fine. Let’s just move on.”

“Soph…”

“Please,” you whispered, already stepping back into the house, hands on the handle. “Jack. Please.”

You finally looked at him, noticing how his eyes looked so blue and sad. He stared at you before shaking his head, once and then twice, stepping back.

“I’m so sorry, Soph.” He said softly, before leaving Nico’s porch and making his way to his car.

“I know you are, baby,” you whispered, letting the tears finally fall. “I am, too.”

“Hum… pizza for Nico Hischier?”

Great.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x singer!fmc #jack hughes x singer!reader #IYLMLMK

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kirammanswifey · 1 month ago

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《A Love Written in Pain(t)》

Ekko

writer's note: i'm sorry for making my boy suffer again, ekko deserves better but i'm a sucker for drama. anyways, this little (pretty long) scenarios comes from my arcane imagines, i'll let the link down there for anyone is interested, also i'll be posting a story for each one of those scenarios for this week, tomorrow it's mel's turn ;)

link:

warnings: fluff, angst, terminal illness, death of oc, ekko is a romantic sweet talented baby, reader can be a jerk sometimes but she kinda cool sometimes.

The music vibrated in the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint and street food. You had come to the urban festival on a friend's recommendation, but you never imagined it would be an afternoon that would change your life. Artists were filling the city's gray walls with bright colors and messages of hope, and among them, one boy stood out.

His white hair contrasted with his skin, and the agile movement of his hand as he slid paint onto the wall was almost hypnotic. The mural he was creating seemed to come alive with every stroke: a girl holding a broken clock, surrounded by gears that spun toward nowhere. The image had something deeply melancholic about it, as if telling a story only a few could understand.

You watched him from afar, too shy to approach, until he noticed your presence. He turned his head and smiled at you, his eyes shining with a mixture of curiosity and kindness.

"Do you like it?" he asked, coming down from the scaffolding with the same ease he seemed to do everything.

"It’s... impressive. But it also feels sad, like it’s about a loss or something that can't be recovered."

His eyebrows raised slightly, surprised. "That's exactly what I wanted to convey. It’s about time. How we always think we have more of it than we really do, but we never know when it runs out."

His explanation fit perfectly with what you had felt while observing it. "I saw it more like a fight... like she doesn't want to give up, even if the clock is already broken."

For a moment, Ekko seemed to look at you differently, as if measuring something invisible. "I’ve never thought of it that way. I like that perspective. I guess that’s what’s great about art, right? It’s a conversation."

You smiled, feeling for the first time like someone understood how you saw things. "I guess so."

"Do you always analyze strangers' murals?" he joked, a playful smile on his lips.

"Only when they make me feel something," you replied with a hint of shyness, but without looking away.

"Well, then that’s a compliment."

Hours passed, but you didn’t even notice as the sun began to set. Talking with Ekko felt like discovering a song you didn’t know you needed in your life. He told you about his workshop, his passion for helping the community, and his dreams of changing the world, one gadget at a time.

At some point, he asked about your story, and although you weren’t the type to open up easily, you felt like you could be honest with him.

"I work with kids," you began, searching for the right words. "At an orphanage near my university. I like to think I can do something for them, even if it’s small. I’m studying psychology, and I want to help people like them... people who feel alone."

Ekko nodded, as if understanding every word. "That’s amazing. It’s like... you take care of people, and I try to make sure they take care of the world around them. Maybe you should stop by my workshop sometime. I work with kids from the neighborhood, teaching them how to fix things, build gadgets. We could join forces."

The enthusiasm in his voice was contagious, but you couldn’t help feeling a pang of doubt. It had been a long time since you let yourself connect with someone new, for reasons he didn’t need to know.

"Really? You take anyone?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Only if they have a good eye for art and a heart for kids. You seem to qualify."

When you got up to say goodbye, he pulled out his phone and offered you his contact. "In case you decide to visit the workshop."

You took the phone, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. You didn’t know what you were getting into, but something told you that Ekko wasn’t someone you’d easily forget.

By the end of the day, as you walked back home, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. His paint-stained hands, his sincere laugh, and that strange connection you felt from the moment he looked at you.

You didn’t know it yet, but you had just met the love of your life.

A few days after the festival, you still couldn’t get Ekko out of your head. There was something about him that fascinated you: the spark in his eyes when he talked about his dreams, the passion behind every word, his way of seeing the world with optimism despite the struggles. You found yourself re-reading the festival brochure and checking his social media profile, where he shared glimpses of his life: videos of his skate tricks, photos of murals filled with messages of resistance, and small clips explaining how to build gadgets. And pictures of him too and... he was kinda cute.

Finally, you decided to message him.

"Hey, I’m the girl from the mural. You said I could come by your workshop... Is the invitation still open?"

The reply came faster than you expected: "Of course. Come by anytime. The kids will be happy to meet you. Does 4 PM today work?"

The workshop was located in an old brick building in a lively neighborhood. The exterior walls were covered in vibrant graffiti that seemed to tell stories. The main entrance had a huge phrase in bold letters: "We build the future together." When you walked through the door, you found yourself in a space that radiated creativity and chaos in perfect harmony. There were tables filled with tools, parts of half-built gadgets, unfinished murals covering the walls, and a group of kids focused while Ekko enthusiastically explained something to them.

When he saw you, his face lit up, he said with sarcasm: "Hey, the mural girl is here!

You blushed.

"I hope I’m not interrupting," you said, feeling a little shy as all eyes turned toward you.

"Not at all. Actually, come here. I want you to see this."

He led you to a table full of small artifacts and technological pieces. "This is my experiment corner," he said, pointing proudly at the mess. "This is where the magic happens, although sometimes the magic is more frustrating than anything else."

The kids started to gather around, curious, and Ekko introduced you with a warmth that made you feel at home. "She works with kids too. She helps them find their way."

One of the younger ones looked at you with bright eyes. "Really? Do you do cool things like Ekko?"

You bent down to their level, smiling. "I don’t build things like he does, but I try to help people find their strength. Sometimes, the most important thing isn’t what we do with our hands, but with our hearts."

Ekko, who had been listening, looked at you with a mix of admiration and tenderness. "That was deep. I’ll have to write that down for my next mural."

Hours passed in the workshop. You helped the kids with their projects, painted a couple of things with Ekko, and learned more about his life. In a moment of calm, while the kids were absorbed in their creations, Ekko sat next to you, a screwdriver in hand and a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You know? This place means a lot to me," he started, his tone more serious than before. "When I was a kid, there was nothing like this in my neighborhood. Growing up here was... complicated. There wasn’t always someone to turn to when things got tough."

"How did you manage to get through it?" you asked, genuinely interested.

Ekko smiled sadly. "It was thanks to my mom. She always told me that, even though we couldn’t change where we were born, we could change what we did with it. She taught me not to give up, to find ways to transform things, even if they were small. When she died... well, I promised myself I’d do something so other kids wouldn’t have to feel as alone as I did."

He paused, fiddling with the screwdriver in his hands. "At first, I didn’t know how. I just knew I wanted to make a difference. That’s when I discovered skateboarding, art, and technology. They were my escapes. And over time, they became my way of communicating, of creating something that mattered."

You felt a lump in your throat listening to his story. There was something about the way he spoke, the vulnerability behind his words, that made every detail come alive. "You’ve done something incredible here, Ekko. This place... it’s not just a workshop. It’s a home."

He looked at you, surprised by your words, then smiled, although his eyes glowed with contained emotion. "Thanks. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing enough. But hearing that... it makes me think maybe I am."

"You’re amazing." You squeezed his hand as a gesture of affection and respect, which made him smile shyly.

When the day ended, Ekko walked you to the door of the workshop. "So, what do you think?"

"I loved it! It’s like a refuge from the world."

He smiled, scratching the back of his neck with some shyness. "I try to make it that way. And I’m glad you came. The kids got along really well with you. They liked you."

"And you?" you asked, before you could stop yourself.

"Me?"

"Do you like me?"

For a moment, he seemed surprised by your question, but then he smiled with that spark in his eyes that you were starting to recognize. "I think so."

You said goodbye with a smile that didn’t leave your face the entire way home, carrying the feeling that, in some way, you had found a place where you belonged.

The afternoon sun bathed the streets in a golden light as you walked toward the park where Ekko had arranged to meet you. You weren’t sure what to expect; when he had suggested it, you thought it would be a simple, casual activity. But when you arrived and saw him carrying two skateboards, a mischievous smile on his face, you realized this wasn’t going to be any ordinary day.

“Are you ready to become a professional skater in just one afternoon?” Ekko asked, raising an eyebrow as he held a helmet in one hand and a board in the other.

“Professional? I can barely stay on my feet without falling,” you replied, laughing nervously.

“That’s what makes it fun,” he said, walking up to you to adjust your helmet. His fingers brushed your skin as he fastened it, and you noticed his movements were unnecessarily slow, as if he were looking for an excuse to be closer to you.

“And you? Are you going to wear a helmet or trust your legendary skill?”

Ekko shrugged, smiling to the side. “Nah, I was born for this.”

“Sure, sure,” you replied, nudging him with your shoulder.

The park had a wide track with ramps and flatter areas where beginners could practice. Ekko led you to one of these areas and began with a quick lesson.

“First, keep your feet steady. Don’t look down, look where you want to go. The board will follow your intentions.”

“My intentions? What am I, a witch controlling the skateboard with my mind?”

Ekko laughed. “Something like that. Though, if you were a witch, you’d probably have learned how to fly on this thing by now.”

You tried to follow his instructions, but on your first attempt, the board shot out from under you, and you ended up on the ground.

“Hey, hey! Are you okay?” Ekko was by your side in a second, kneeling next to you as he tried to hold back his laughter.

“I’m fine,” you said, though you could barely stop laughing. “I think the board hates me.”

“No, you just have to conquer it. Look.” He jumped onto his skateboard with a fluidity that seemed to defy gravity. He glided smoothly along the track, doing small tricks to impress you. “See? You just need confidence.”

“Of course, confidence is the only thing I’m lacking,” you joked.

After several attempts, you started to improve. You managed to stay on the board for more than a few seconds, though falls were still frequent. Every time you fell, Ekko was there, offering a hand to help you up, his face a mixture of concern and amusement.

After a while, both of you sat on a nearby bench to rest. Ekko took out his phone and began searching for something in his playlist.

“I’ve got the perfect song for this moment,” he said, setting it to play on the speaker.

Tyler, the Creator’s melodic voice filled the air with the song "See You Again." Ekko looked at you with a smile that seemed to hold something more than just fun.

“Why this song?” you asked, trying to interpret the meaning behind his choice.

“It reminds me of you,” he replied, his tone more serious than you expected.

You paused for a moment, allowing the music to fill the space between you. You knew there was something in his words, something he was trying to say without saying it. But instead of confronting it, you chose to laugh, avoiding the weight of the moment.

“Wow, Ekko, if you wanted to dedicate me a song, you could’ve chosen something less obvious,” you joked, pretending not to notice the gleam in his eyes.

He smiled, but there was something in his expression that made you feel a slight pang of guilt. You knew he was trying to open up to you, and you had deflected it.

As the afternoon went on, the topic faded, but a subtle tension lingered in the air. It wasn’t just about him; it was also about you. There was something you couldn’t share with Ekko, something that weighed on you more with each passing day. Your illness wasn’t an easy topic, especially now when you were just starting to get to know each other.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye as you both walked toward the graffiti area of the park.

“I’m not quiet. I’m… thinking.”

“About what?”

“How easy it is to be with you,” you said without thinking. The sincerity in your words took him by surprise, and you could see his expression soften.

“Well, I’m glad it’s easy. But if you ever need to talk about something hard, I’m here too,” he said, his voice filled with warmth that made you feel guilty.

“Thanks,” was all you managed to respond.

Days later, Ekko took you to the graffiti area. He had been working on something in secret and didn’t want to tell you what it was until he finished.

“Ready to see how I see you?”

When you turned the corner and saw the mural, you were left speechless. It was your face, captured with an astonishing level of detail. Your hair seemed to move with the breeze, and your eyes were filled with a light you didn’t recognize at first. Around your face, Ekko had painted details that only the two of you would understand: small rays of light that seemed to represent hope, and a golden phrase that read:

“Life is short, but art is eternal.”

“Ekko…” you murmured, unable to find words to describe how you felt.

“This is what I see when I look at you. You're art,” he said, shrugging as if it were no big deal.

The mural was more than just an image. It was a reflection of how he saw you: as someone bright, unique, and irreplaceable. As you looked at it, you promised yourself that one day you would tell him the truth, even though you feared losing what you had.

The morning began with Ekko knocking on your door, carrying a huge box that almost covered his face.

"Are you going to let me in, or am I staying here decorating the hallway?" he said, balancing the box.

You laughed, opening the door wide. "What do you have there? A corpse?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you, baby" he joked, walking in and setting the box on the table.

Baby, that's how he was used to call you now. It didn't felt wrong, in fact, you liked it. It felt so good when he said it to you. It made you feel special. It made you feel loved. It made you feel his.

"It's for tomorrow's event. We're going to need a lot of help to make sure everything goes smoothly."

"An event? What are you talking about?"

Ekko leaned forward, resting on the table with a smile that combined enthusiasm and a bit of nervousness. "It's for the kids in the neighborhood. I'm organizing a sort of fair. Games, music, food... you know, something to help them forget for a while everything that's going on down here."

The morning passed organizing ideas. Ekko had an almost contagious energy, moving around your apartment like a whirlwind while making lists, dividing tasks, and talking about his plans.

"So, what do you think of a painting workshop? We could get some cheap canvases and brushes. I'm sure the kids would love to express themselves that way."

"I love it," you replied, watching his face light up. "How do you have so much energy for this?"

"It's important," he said, his tone turning more serious. "These kids... a lot of them don't have anyone who really shows them that they matter. If I can do something to change that, even for just one day, I will."

Your heart tightened as you listened to his words. There was something deeply inspiring about his dedication, how he used his own pain as fuel to improve the lives of others.

"So, where do I fit into all of this?" you asked, crossing your arms with a smile.

"Simple. You're my right hand. Plus, no one can resist your brilliant ideas and that smile of yours," he said, winking before turning back to focus on his plans.

In the afternoon, Ekko took you to his loft to check out some materials he had gathered for the event. His home was filled with curious objects: disassembled tech pieces, unfinished paintings, and notebooks full of sketches and notes.

"This place is like your brain made into physical space," you commented, looking around with a mix of awe and amusement.

"Is that a compliment?"

"Definitely."

You went up to the roof, where there was a small area Ekko had transformed into a personal retreat. There, he showed you his next project: a portable device designed to help people with motor disabilities perform everyday tasks with greater ease.

"How does it work?" you asked, taking the gadget in your hands.

"It's a prototype," he explained, sitting next to you. "The idea is for it to adapt to different needs. For example, someone with trouble holding objects could use it for a firmer grip. It's simple, but it could make a difference."

You looked at him, impressed. "Ekko, this is amazing. How did you come up with it?"

"I guess... I've always wanted to fix things. People, places, systems... whatever." He paused, looking at the horizon. "I don't know, I feel like it's the only thing I really know how to do."

The sincerity in his voice moved you. "You're not fixing things, Ekko. You're improving them. That's something very different."

Later, as you both worked on the final details for the event, Ekko looked at you with an intensity that made you feel uneasy.

"Can I ask you something?" he finally said, breaking the silence.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you always keep your distance? Sometimes I feel like you're here, but at the same time, you're not. Like there's something you don't want me to see."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't expect Ekko to be so direct.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to keep your tone casual.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, his voice firmer. "I've noticed how you avoid certain topics, how you change the conversation when something gets too personal. Is it that you don't trust me?"

"It's not that," you replied, feeling the frustration building inside you. "There are just things I don't need to share. Not everything has to be so... open."

"Not with me?"

His question hit you like a punch to the stomach. You stood up from the chair, unable to stay seated under his probing gaze. "Ekko, it's not as simple as you think."

"Then explain it," he said, standing up as well. "Because from here, it seems like you're more concerned with what you're hiding than with what we have."

What you two had was complicated. You weren't friends, you were more than that, but you weren't a couple either. It was complicated. And you didn't like to think about complicated things.

"You have no idea what you're saying!"

The raised tone of your voice surprised both of you. You felt the stress and physical exhaustion begin to take their toll. Your vision blurred, and the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet.

"Baby, are you okay?" Ekko stepped toward you, but before he could reach you, your legs gave out.

The last thing you heard before losing consciousness was the sound of his voice, filled with panic.

You opened your eyes under a cold, white light. The smell of disinfectant confirmed what you feared: you were in a hospital. You turned your head and saw Ekko sitting next to your bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands intertwined.

The room was silent, only broken by the soft sound of the monitor marking the rhythm of your breathing. The sunlight filtered through the hospital window, creating patterns on the floor, but the calm was deceiving. You knew Ekko was worried, hurt, but what worried you the most was what Ekko had started to suspect. You couldn’t keep hiding it, and you knew the time to talk had come.

Ekko had probably been sitting in the chair next to your bed for hours, staring at the wall, lost in thoughts that seemed to consume him. You didn’t know if he hated you or if he was just trying to process what had just happened. After all, you had fallen unconscious in his arms, leaving him with a heavier emotional burden than any gadget prototype or community event. Now, he was paying the price for your secret.

“Ekko?”

He quickly lifted his head, and the mix of relief and worry on his face broke your heart.

When he finally spoke, his voice wasn’t the same as usual. There was something broken in it.

“Baby, what’s going on? What haven’t you told me? The doctor... the doctor told me that...”

It was obvious that the doctor had given him more details than you had wanted to share. You hadn’t planned on opening up to him like this. But something in his gaze, the clear worry, and the deep sadness, made you say what you had kept hidden for so long.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you said, taking a deep breath. “The illness I have has no cure.”

After a long silence, and before everything could completely fall apart, you decided to explain more deeply about the illness that was consuming you because you knew Ekko needed to understand it fully, even though you weren’t sure you could save what was left between you both.

“Ekko… what I have is a rare, autoimmune disease. My immune system is attacking my own organs. It’s called Systemic Lupus Erythematosus, and there’s no cure. It’s like my body is fighting against me all the time, little by little.”

Ekko stared at you in silence, as if he couldn’t process every word. He knew that everything you had said before, although important, wasn’t enough to understand what was really happening.

“When?” he asked, his voice tense, almost inaudible. “Since when?”

“I started feeling bad when I was 23,” you continued, your voice trembling. “It hurt all the time, and the fever wouldn’t go away. At first, I thought it was something temporary. But then I fainted once, and that’s when they admitted me to the hospital. That’s when they told me that what was happening in my body was much worse than I imagined. From there, my life completely changed. My body wasn’t mine anymore. I lost energy, I lost weight, and the flare-ups became more frequent. It’s like my body is in a constant war, and there’s no way to win it.”

The feeling of vulnerability overwhelmed you as Ekko, standing at the door, continued to look at you with a mix of disbelief and pain.

But before he could say anything, you threw out one last statement that seemed to come from the deepest part of your soul:

“And I don’t know how much time I have left, Ekko. I just know that I can’t live knowing I’m dragging you with me.”

Ekko stood still for a moment, processing your words. His breathing became heavier, as if an invisible weight had fallen on him. Finally, his eyes sought yours, and what he saw in them wasn’t surprise. It was like, somehow, he already knew, as if he had sensed it all this time.

“Your parents?” Ekko asked again, his eyes fixed on you, searching for answers that you couldn’t hide anymore.

“My parents don’t know,” you said, letting out a sigh that seemed to come from deep within. “They have no idea. How am I going to tell them that? How am I going to tell them? No… I don’t want them to see me as a project they need to save. I want them to see me for who I am, to see me as their daughter, not as a broken thing they need to take care of. I don’t want to be a burden. I’m not going to be a burden.”

Ekko looked at you, his eyes filled with frustration, but also with a sadness so deep that it made you question whether he really knew you as well as you thought.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hide all of this from me? Did you think you could protect me from the truth? What were you really protecting—me or yourself?”

The punch of his words was like a gut punch. The wound you had tried to seal with lies and evasions started to bleed, and the emotion overflowed in you like a river that couldn’t be stopped.

“I don’t know…” you stammered, tears threatening to fall. “I don’t know, Ekko. I wanted… I wanted all of this to keep being normal. For it not to be so… so heavy. I wanted to do everything I’ve always wanted to do before… before it ended. I wanted to leave my mark on the world before I’m gone, to leave something that was worth it.”

Ekko began to pace back and forth. His frustration became more palpable, but there was something else in his attitude, something you hadn’t recognized at first.

“That’s not what I’m saying!” he yelled, and the vehemence in his words made everything in the room feel even denser. “I don’t understand why you had to carry all of this alone. Why did you shut me out, baby? Why did you make me believe that everything was okay?”

“Because it was easier that way,” you said, the words tumbling out. “Because what’s happening inside me… how do you explain that to someone who doesn’t understand? How do I explain that my body is already losing the battle, that I won’t be here much longer, that everything I touch will fade?”

The anger in Ekko’s eyes faded for a second, and what remained was a sadness so deep it seemed to swallow the light in the room.

“And what about me, baby?” he said, his voice softer, more broken. “What about us? Did you really think I didn’t care? Did you really think I could go on without knowing what’s happening to you? That I could keep smiling and helping you as if nothing was going to change?”

At that moment, something inside you broke. Without thinking, the words left your mouth, sharp and like a dagger:

“Stop looking for it in me, Ekko. I’m not your mother. I’m not her. Don’t project that onto me! I don’t want to be the memory of what you lost. I don’t want to carry that responsibility, or the guilt of not being what you expected.”

The words hung in the air, and the silence that followed was unbearable. Ekko took a step back, his face contorting with a mix of pain and confusion. His eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“How could you say that?” he whispered, his voice broken, as if every word he spoke cost him more than the last. “I never ‘projected’ her onto you. It’s just… I don’t want you to keep pushing me away. I don’t want you to keep hiding your fears from me.”

And then, both of you stood there, in that emotional abyss that neither of you knew how to cross. Frustration, fear, love, and sadness intertwined in the room, as if time had stopped completely.

Finally, the silence became unbearable. You sat up in bed, defeated, while Ekko turned and walked toward the door. His body tense, his breathing ragged, and the pain in his face made him feel more real than ever.

Before leaving, he stopped and looked at you one last time. “If you had used your psychology for yourself instead of for everyone else, maybe you could’ve avoided this.”

The door slammed behind him with a dull thud, and you were left there, alone, with the echo of his words ringing in your ears.

Time had passed. The days and nights blurred into a mixture of conflicting feelings, unfinished memories, and a void that both of them tried to fill without success. The argument between Ekko and you had left deep scars, although both of you knew it couldn't be the end. Not for you. However, there was something neither of you had been able to face: fear. Fear of love, fear of tragedy, and fear of losing each other before either of you expected it.

You had distanced yourself for a week. A week that had been heavier than you ever imagined. In every corner, in every solitary moment, in every thought, Ekko was there, like a persistent shadow. No matter what you did, how you tried to ignore him, the emptiness left by his departure enveloped you more and more. You tried to convince yourself it was for the best, that moving on without him was the right thing to do. But you were lying to yourself, you knew you couldn't continue without him. Not that way.

Finally, after days of deliberation, finding the strength to face your own fear, you decided to go find him. You had to talk to him, make amends, and make a decision. If you were going to die, you would do it without regrets, without leaving words unsaid, or missed opportunities. You wouldn’t care about the shadows of the future, but you couldn’t keep living with the weight of silence between you two.

You found yourself standing in front of his door, hands trembling and heart pounding in your chest. You knew what you had to say, what you wanted to say, but the words seemed stuck in your throat.

The door slowly opened, and there he was, Ekko, with that gaze that, though intense, still carried a hint of sadness. There was something in his face that told you he had been searching for you in his mind as well, though his eyes didn't yet recognize it.

"Ekko…" you finally said, your voice trembling, "I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Without saying a word, Ekko took a step back and opened the door, inviting you inside. The atmosphere in the room was heavier than you remembered, as if everything unsaid still lingered in the air.

You stood in front of him, your eyes fixed on his, while the words that needed to come out didn't come immediately. But in the end, you decided.

"Ekko, I know I failed you. I know, and I’m deeply sorry. It was never my intention, it never was." You took a deep breath, struggling to control the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "But I'm here because… because I need to know if you're still willing to fight with me. If you're willing to continue this battle, to stay by my side for as long as I can."

Ekko stared at you for a moment, his face impassive, but his gaze was full of something you couldn’t decipher. There was a long pause, and then, with a sincerity that made you shiver, he responded:

"I’ve always been willing, baby. From the moment I met you, I’ve been willing to fight for you, for what we have. I don’t care what comes, I don’t care how long it is. What matters to me is that you don’t leave, that you don’t leave me behind."

Those words were everything you needed. No more doubts, no more fears. You embraced his answer with your soul, with the certainty that, finally, both of you were ready to accept the truth. The truth of who you were, what you felt, and what the future held for you.

From that day on, things changed. Although you knew each moment was a fleeting gift, you decided to make the most of it. Ekko never stopped being by your side, and you did the same for him. You were determined to live intensely, no matter how short the life you had left. And he, he was willing to love you until the end.

He accompanied you to every medical appointment, always with a smile, always willing to do anything to lighten the pain caused by the treatment. The hospital visits weren’t easy, but his presence made everything more bearable. He held your hand before entering the consultations, hugged you after every diagnosis, and never let the moments of uncertainty crush you.

"I don’t want you to be afraid," you said one day, after one of your doctor visits, while walking together through the streets, taking a break at a small café. "But I know you feel it. I know every time we go in there, it kills you a little inside."

Ekko looked at you, his gaze full of both pain and tenderness. "It’s not fear," he replied, his voice soft. "It’s not knowing how to save you. I don’t know what to do when I see you so fragile. All I can do is be here, by your side."

And that was enough. Even though both of you knew you couldn’t stop time, nor the illness, what you could do was share every second, every laugh, every small victory, and every defeat.

But it wasn’t only moments of pain and fear. There were also moments of joy, of beauty, and of creation.

Together, you started working on the project you both dreamed of—the gadget you had envisioned, which could change the way the world saw technology. Even though your health was becoming more fragile, Ekko made sure you didn’t stop. You worked side by side, sharing ideas, making decisions, and facing obstacles, but always together. It was your way of fighting, of resisting, of holding on to life amidst the chaos.

One day, while working on the final design, Ekko surprised you with an idea. "How about, in addition to all this, we paint something? Something that’s ours, something that represents what we’re doing together."

At first, you didn’t completely understand what he meant, but soon you did. Together, you would create something more than just a gadget. You would paint a mural, one that symbolized not only your dreams and love, but also the struggle you shared. The mural would represent life, love, and hope, even though you knew time was limited.

In your mind, that mural became the testament of your story, a reminder of what you had built together. The colors shone on the wall, the shapes wild and beautiful, just like your love. The mural wasn’t just a work of art, but also a promise. The promise that, no matter what else might crumble, your love would never fade. No matter how much time you had left.

The last strokes were made one sunny afternoon, in a deep, shared silence. The piece was finished, and as you stepped back to admire it in its entirety, both of you knew you didn’t need words to understand what it meant.

The mural was more than a reminder of your love; it was a testament to what you had built together, of how, even in the darkness, you had found light. Though the future remained uncertain, the mural would stay there, eternal, as a trace of what once was and would always be.

As the days passed, time seemed to grow more valuable, more scarce. You knew that every minute spent with Ekko was a gift. And although illness had taken much from you, it had given you something you never imagined: a deep, real love that feared no tragedy.

One afternoon, while resting together in his loft, Ekko looked at you seriously, more serious than you’d seen him in a long time. In a soft voice, almost as if afraid of the answer, he asked:

"Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

You paused for a few seconds, feeling the weight of the question. But in that moment, something inside you broke. You smiled tenderly, a smile full of love and resignation.

"Ekko," you said softly, moving closer to him, "we’re so much more than that."

The smile he gave you was the answer both of you needed. You didn’t need labels, you didn’t need promises of an uncertain future. The only thing that mattered was that, in that instant, you shared something so deep and real that it didn’t need to be defined by words.

And, without another word, your lips met in a first kiss, a kiss full of love, despair, and hope. A kiss that marked the beginning of what both of you knew would be a short story, but one that would last a lifetime in your hearts.

The weeks following the reconciliation were a whirlwind of emotions. Even though you knew time was running out, you decided to live each moment with Ekko as if it were the last, because in reality, it was. Sometimes, the smiles were forced, but in the most sincere moments, you could see in his eyes the reflection of a love so strong it took your breath away. Every time he looked at you, every time he held your hand, there was a mix of hope and pain, but neither of you wanted to face the inevitable.

The illness progressed rapidly. Every day, your body seemed to fall apart a little more. The doctors had told you, warned you, but you never imagined how quickly the end would come. You had learned to live with the pain, the fatigue, the moments of weakness, but nothing had prepared you to see Ekko closely watching the changes happening inside you.

You had already told your parents about it, and when you did it he was there with you, by your side, ride or die. And of course they didn't take it well, but there was nothing they could do. They just let you be happy with Ekko.

Sometimes, when you woke up in the morning, you’d see him sitting beside you, his gaze lost in some undefined point, as if he were waiting for you to wake up from the shared dream. He’d ask you how you were feeling, and you’d always say you were fine, even though the truth was you could barely bear the weight of your own body.

You saw him trying to distract you, taking you to places that made you happy, but you knew nothing could escape that reality. He didn’t want to accept what was happening, and neither did you, but neither of you wanted to say it out loud. No one wanted to mention what was already so obvious.

That night, after another doctor’s appointment that you could barely endure, you lay down hoping to rest, even though it was becoming harder and harder to find deep sleep. Your body no longer responded the way it used to, and the symptoms had started affecting you more brutally. You could barely move your hands without feeling pain, your breathing grew more labored with every effort, but you kept smiling. You had to, not only for Ekko, but for yourself.

Ekko was sitting beside you in the chair he always occupied when taking care of you. His presence was as comforting as it was painful. You knew he was holding onto every fragment of his strength to not show you how devastated he was, but you could feel it in his eyes. He gently stroked your hair and whispered, as though afraid that if he spoke any louder, everything would collapse.

“I promise we’ll get through this. Together, we’ll make it. I won’t let you leave me, not without a fight.”

You looked at him, knowing he was struggling not to cry. But his words, although full of love, only reminded you of the harsh reality. There was no more time for promises, no more room for fighting. The end was near, and you knew it.

“Ekko…” you said, your voice weak. “You don’t have to fight anymore. I’ve loved you so much, you know that, right?”

His eyes filled with tears, but he made an effort to smile. “I know. I know, baby. And I love you more than words can say.”

But what you didn’t know was that, at that very moment, Ekko was also fighting his own pain. While you rested, trying to gather some strength, he was in the workshop, working frantically on the gadget, the project you both had shared. The same gadget that, in his mind, represented everything you had built together. The gadget wasn’t just an object. It was the manifestation of what you two could accomplish when united, when you fought as a team.

Ekko knew the gadget couldn’t save you. He knew nothing could save you. But still, he felt that if he finished that project, a piece of you would remain. A trace of the hope you had brought into his life.

Hours passed, and the night stretched on in heavy silence. Ekko was so focused on his work that he didn’t realize time was slipping away. The light in the workshop flickered as he soldered pieces, making adjustments, checking everything over and over, as if somehow he could turn back time, change the course of history. But he knew he couldn’t.

When he finally gave up on the gadget, exhausted from the intensity of the night and the weight of worry, he went up to the bedroom. He wanted to see you, wanted to make sure you were still breathing, even though he already feared what he might find. He entered the room with the hope that, by some miracle, everything had changed. But what he found was the silhouette of your body lying still. In the absolute silence of the room, Ekko slowly approached, his heart pounding, and when he reached your side, he touched your hand gently. It was cold. Too cold.

The shock paralyzed him for a second. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t accept that you were no longer there, by his side, where you had always been. He looked at you, observing your pale face, your peaceful expression, as if you were simply sleeping, but deep down, he knew there was no turning back.

Desperation washed over him. The pain hit him so hard it felt as though his chest would explode. How was it possible? How could something so beautiful, so real, vanish in the blink of an eye?

He knelt by the bed, gripping your hand tightly, as if by doing so, he could bring you back to life. “You can’t go,” he whispered, his voice breaking with the tears he could no longer hold back. “Not now. Not like this.”

But deep in his heart, he knew it was the end. He knew he couldn’t bring back what was already gone. He couldn’t revive the irreparable. And for the first time in his life, Ekko didn’t have a solution, he didn’t have a plan. All that was left was the pain, and that painful acceptance that it was all over.

In the following week, Ekko lived in a limbo. No one saw him, no one knew how to face his pain. Memories of you were everywhere. In the bed where you slept, in the gadget he completed, in the mural you painted together, in the streets where you both walked, always hand in hand. Everything that had once been a dream was now just an echo, a shadow.

Sometimes he’d find himself in front of your photo, the smile you shared on a random afternoon, one that he could no longer remember without the lump in his throat becoming unbearable. The reality hit him harder each time: you were no longer there.

Ekko became a shadow of himself. His mind still searched for you, as though somehow you might return, as though he could find a way to save you. But nothing could change what had happened.

In his darkest moments, Ekko would remember the last words you had said: “I’ve loved you so much.” Those words gave him strength to keep going, to not give up completely. Though the pain was unbearable, he had loved you, and that was something he would never forget.

And with the gadget in his hand, looking at the mural you both painted, Ekko made a promise, a silent promise: he would live to honor what you shared. He wouldn’t let your death be in vain. Your love, your fight, your story would live on in his heart, forever.

The city, as always, continued its course, indifferent to everything Ekko had lost, to everything that had changed in his world. But for him, the day was no longer just a succession of hours; every second was a struggle to find something that gave his pain and love meaning.

Months had passed since you left, but it felt like your absence was so recent, so sharp, that Ekko couldn't stop feeling that his entire being was stuck between life and death. No matter how much time had passed, your image was engraved in his mind, not as a memory, but as a constant presence, a voice whispering in his ear, as if you had never left.

Today, in particular, everything seemed to pull him back to the pieces of his pain. The project you had worked on together, the gadget, was finally ready. After so many sleepless nights, so much effort and sacrifice, the moment to present it had arrived. It had been a creation of love, passion, and farewell. A tribute to you, to what you shared, to what still remained of you in his heart.

Ekko walked with firm steps toward the community event where he would present the gadget. Around him, the people, some curious, others hopeful to see the result of years of teamwork. But he couldn't see them. He couldn't see beyond his own thoughts, the image of you floating in his mind. Sometimes, he thought that everything he had done in the past few months was just a way to avoid facing the truth: that you were gone and that, despite everything, life had to go on.

He entered the venue, a large hall filled with tables covered in technology, art, and brilliant inventions. The gadget was there, on a pedestal, waiting to be presented. Ekko stared at it in silence for a moment, recalling every afternoon spent working on it together. The design was sleek, full of details that reflected his intelligence and your ability to come up with unimaginable solutions. It was more than just a gadget; it was a piece of you, a piece of what they had been together.

The event began, and Ekko, with a calm that only he could have, presented his creation. He explained, with soft but firm words, how the idea had been born, how you had been the spark of inspiration for something that transcended technology and reached the heart. As he spoke, the words intertwined with memories, with your laughter, your jokes, the long nights spent debating the design, the future, and what they wanted to do. Every word felt like a sigh from the past, a sigh that tried to make the present make sense.

But inside him, Ekko knew that everything he was doing was just an echo of what had been. What remained was the emptiness, the absence you had left in his life.

When he finished, he stepped away from the stage, letting the gadget speak for itself. No one in the room understood what that creation really meant. No one knew how much it had cost, not in terms of hours of work, but in terms of love, sacrifice, and farewell. They didn’t understand that every screw, every adjustment, had been made with the hope that, in some way, it would bring you back, even if only for a second.

After the presentation, Ekko moved away from the bustle, walking slowly toward a secluded corner of the city. There, on the wall, was the first mural that he painted of you. The mural was a mural of love, hope, and pain. A mural that reflected every laugh they shared, every glance, every moment they had lived together. In the mural, you were more than just a figure; you were a story told in colors and shapes, in every stroke Ekko had made, in every brushstroke you had guided. The mural wasn’t just art; it was a piece of his soul, his heart, of you.

When Ekko stopped in front of the mural, the wind gently blew, moving some fallen leaves on the ground. His eyes, moist, traced every part of the painting, as if he were searching for something he would never find. He remembered how you had smiled while he was painting you, how you had loved it so much when he showed it to you.

The mural showed a version of you that was etched in his memory. He saw you, with your serene smile and your eyes full of dreams and desires. But what really stood out in the mural was your figure, as if everything else was just a stage for you, for what you meant in his life.

"We did it, baby," Ekko whispered, as if he could hear your voice responding, as if you were still there. "We did it together. Everything we dreamed, everything we wanted... we did it."

His tears began to fall, one by one, flowing like a torrent he could no longer hold back. His heart broke once more, but there was something in the sadness of that moment that gave him a strange sense of peace. Maybe it was because he finally understood that, even though you had gone, the love you shared could not disappear. Love doesn’t vanish with death; it stays, like a shadow that always follows the light. In the mural, in the gadget, in his memories, you would always be a part of him, forever.

Ekko stepped away from the mural, glancing one last time at the figure that now represented everything he had lost. He looked toward the future, toward the horizon, where the lights were beginning to flicker on, and the streets once again filled with people who knew nothing of what he had been through. An uncertain future, but a future he would have to face, because at the end of the day, what really mattered was how he would live after the loss.

With the image of the mural etched in his mind, Ekko moved forward. And in his heart, a promise: he would never forget what you both shared, he would never forget the legacy you left, and he would move forward with the strength of your love, because now he understood that love didn’t die, it transformed, just like art does. Like you did.

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grapejuicestyless · 6 days ago

Text

Seven(ways to Neverland)

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: “And I’ve been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. Your dad is always mad, and that must be why.” Y/n and JJ grew up together, and while it was inevitable, Y/n and JJ swore they’d never grow up. Not even when life told them it wasn’t possible to be young forever.

“My Ma is always saying dad left because he was a piece of work.” The girl said softly into the cold silence. Waves lapped at the shore calmly, and wind blew through her wild hair. She twisted the loose ring on her middle finger, a hollowed out and ground down acorn that was more brown than green nowadays. She spun the slightly wet ring around on her skin. “But I don’t believe her.”

The girl tucked her chin into her knees, curling up like a turtle in a shell. Her eyes glistened in the pale moonlight.

“Why?” The tow head blonde boy asked, curiosity in his defeated gaze.

“She drinks a lot.” The girl shrugged like it was normal. “She always did, but more now that dad is gone. Her friends do too. They talk about how their ‘glory days’ are behind them…or something like that.” She overshared her mother’s secrets, her young mind not comprehending the idea of dirty laundry and why you don’t air it out.

“Oh.” The boy looked down at the sand. “My dad drinks too.” He looked to the girl, who was now drawing circles in the sand mindlessly.

“Maybe it’s a grown up thing, and we don’t understand it yet.” She said hopefully, but her voice was low and quiet, and she looked awfully sad when saying it.

“Maybe.” The boy responded just as quietly.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if my mom married your dad?” The girl suddenly questioned. “Then maybe they wouldn’t drink as much. They wouldn’t need to, and my Ma’s friends wouldn’t have to sleepover in my bed.”

The boy nodded slowly, considering the idea before tossing it out the window.

“You wouldn’t want my dad to marry your mom.”

Silence filled the beach again, and the boy took some sand in his hand and watched it drain out slowly back onto the ground.

“He’s always angry. Sometimes he’s not, but it feels like he is.” It was the girls turn to look down and try to find some words of sympathy.

“Yeah. Parents suck.” The girl smiled, knowing the feeling of helplessness all too well.

They were only seven, but they knew a whole lot about things they shouldn’t, and they understood that just because the world worked that way for them, that didn’t mean it worked the same for everyone.

“Does he hit?” The girl asked curiously, her smile fading. The conversation seemed so casual, calm. Little children who should have been cowering, already accustomed to the treatment.

“Sometimes.” The boy answered truthfully, and the girl nodded.

“So does my mom.” The girl said quietly, still doodling in the sand beside her feet.

“Do you hate her?” The blonde boy asked after a beat passed, looking to see what the girl would say.

She thought about it for a moment, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth and twisting and pushing against the acorn on her finger.

She shook her head.

“No.”

That was her answer. Plain and simple like there was no other reason for it. She was her mother after all, and she was a kid. She would cling to her and try her best to be great for her, and when her mom would hit, she would try even harder to be great because even if her mom was a bad person, she was a bad person that the girl wanted to love her so badly.

The innocent and the good look up to the horrible and the ugly.

“Would you run away?” The boy pressed further, maybe because he was curious of what the girl would say, but maybe also because he was curious if anyone else shared the same thoughts.

“Would you come with me?” She asked.

“Why?” The boy questioned with his brow raised, his head cocked to the side.

“I don’t like being alone. I don’t like the dark.” She hugged her knees even tighter.

As the wind blew warm salty air onto the shore, waves crashed more violently against the sand, the tide rolling in quickly.

“You’d hate my house then.” The boy joked with a chuckle. It sounded almost bitter. “Dark, quiet, scary.”

“Sounds haunted.” The girl looked back into the boys blue eyes.

“Maybe. But ghosts aren’t real.” The boy shut down the girls observation quickly, picking at the loose threads at the ends of his board shorts.

The girl hummed and silence fell over the two kids again. Messy blonde hair and two tangles braids with dead ends fraying in the wind. A faded pink shirt with cursive writing and a dusty white tank top. They were so young.

“Well, I think your house is haunted. Your dad is always mad, and that must be why.” She spoke up suddenly, kicking the sand and standing up.

“My dad isn’t afraid of any ghosts.” The boy stood up quickly, looking straight back at the girl. They were at the age where he could still stand eye level with her, but he figured in a few years he’d have a few inches on her.

“But he must be afraid of you.” The girl reasoned.

“My dad isn’t afraid of any seven year olds either.” The boy argued a little more firmly, feeling protective of his father, or his lack of, despite all the cruelty he was shown from such a young age.

“Well then, why does he hit you? He has to be afraid of something if he’s hitting you. My mom says it’s because I look so much like my dad. Like I could be the ghost of him and she hates it.”

The boy fell quiet, which was unusual. Everything about the way he acted around her was odd. He wasn’t a quiet boy, wasn’t one to just sit and talk, he’d rather pace around and pick at his nails.

“I didn’t think of it like that.” The boy said softly, looking down at his dusty boots. “Maybe I look like my mom…” He agreed, but he didn’t really know what his mom looked like.

“Well, I bet she was really pretty.” The girl said, her eyes shining despite her lack of a smile. Like she was calm on the inside despite the outer furrowing of her brows.

“You think?” The boy asked, raising a brow and his head.

“I know.”

She was looking right at him, his blonde hair and his blue eyes. His skin was tan, soft looking. He had sun kissed freckles on his nose and pink lips. Anyone that pretty had to have a pretty mom, she thought. But they would never know.

The boy blushed, and he held out his dusty hand until she took it in a loose handshake.

“JJ. JJ Maybank.” He smiled, looking back into her eyes. He was only seven, and he wasn’t like his friend Pope. He wasn’t the kid who read in his free time or who practiced spelling on his weekends. He was out between the sand and the weeds, picking at the dirt and getting his knees muddy. But even he could see the wild look she had, untamed but gentle.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” She smiled in return. She had a sweet smile, JJ thought. He’d never thought that before, or if he had he hadn’t thought about him thinking that. She had a really sweet smile. She was sweet. Blush from the wind on her cheeks and coloring the tip of her nose. A missing front tooth, which, by the cut in her bottom lip right where it should have been, JJ figured she’d knocked it out herself.

“Y/l/n.” JJ hummed, putting it to memory.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Y/n hummed, her hair pulled back into two uneven braids, the part in the back a mess. JJ had done them for her today.

“Shoot away.” He replied calmly, smiling and tugging at the end of one braid, watching the girl’s head tilt closer, her feet crossing in an unbalanced step. She slapped his bicep weakly.

“JJ!” She laughed through her annoyance. She could never really be annoyed with him, she believed. She hoped JJ didn’t know it because Y/n figured if he did, he’d push through every fragment of tranquility they shared. He’d find a way to bring her right to the brink of frustration and then make her laugh it all off over and over again.

“What does JJ even stand for anyway.” Y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, wrinkling her waffled shirt. “Probably something stupid.” She smirked, unraveling her hands to tuck them into the pockets of her hand-me-down overalls.

JJ punched her, his lips drawn in a thin line. Y/n rubbed her arm quickly to soothe the sting, her brows kissing at the center of her forehead. “Ow!” She yelped.

That was the thing with growing up, some get stronger, and others get left behind. Not to say Y/n was weak, the bruises on JJ’s arms from her little shoves and playful punches were proof enough, but they were nearly twelve now, and JJ figured he could probably bench her by this point.

“You started it!” He argued, though his palm still smoothed over where he hit her maybe just a but too hard. He’d check to make sure he didn’t leave a mark later.

“Did not!” They fought like children, and smiled freely like they did when they were seven, like they didn’t have all the reason to frown, to cry. To let genetics be hereditary and become the punishers. But instead they swung weakly at each other and laughed everything off until nothing really mattered anymore.

A silence fell between their giggles, a silence only broken my JJ’s pointer finger and thumb playing with the little tail tied off at the end of the braid.

“I don’t know. I never asked, I figured it was just my name. JJ.” He shrugged. “Simple. Like me.”

Y/n nearly snorted.

“You might be a simple boy, JJ, but you are not simple.” She smiled, eyes flickering down to her muddy shoes, bright red converse with holes in the sides so wide, ants found refuge in the warm shelter.

“John?” Y/n threw out an idea. JJ shook his head.

“Nah, we already got a John.” He pointed out, stuffing his own hands into his pockets.

“Well, your dad didn’t know that at the time.” She argued, and still, JJ couldn’t get on board.

“Okay.” Y/n thought, humming and biting her bottom lip, sucking it between her teeth, and swiping her tongue over the faded scar where, she had in fact, lost her front tooth all those years ago. An adult tooth had grown in since, but the scar, now pink instead of bloody, lingered like a faded memory.

“Jackson?” She looked at him, and for a moment, he thought about it. Then, he hummed, pulling his own lip between his teeth.

“Nope, too fancy. Maybe if I was Kook royalty.” He joked.

“So maybe one day?” Y/n teased back, wiggling her brows. JJ gave her an amused look as if to say, yeah right.

They went back to listing names, stumbling down the list until random names became those that started with a J. She tried out George with a J, followed by Jerry, and Jeremy. But all fell flat. It seemed to look as though the boys name was nothing more than two letters squished together.

Then, with a click of her tongue to the roof of her mouth, and a sparkle in her eye, she looked up at the blonde with wonder, the start of an idea.

“Jesse James.” She spoke matter-of-factly, her hands cupping her hips confidently.

“Who now?” He raised a brow.

“The outlaw?” She said in return, like it was common knowledge. Like her and Pope didn’t stick their noses deep into western books all summer much to JJ’s dismay. Not that he hadn’t know she was a bookworm, as if she hadn’t lugged around whatever second hand book she could snatch without the librarian noticing, but the summertime was time for the water, the waves, the tide. Not dusty pages written in small cursive letters with stupid plots less lively than any adventure JJ could drag her on.

And, no, he wasn’t jealous. That’s not why he went on a long list of reasons why he didn’t recognize the name, how it evolved into a complaint of her time spent glued to Pope instead of him, because JJ was surely not jealous.

“He was an outlaw back in the 1800’s. He robbed, killed, fought. Ran a gang with other outlaws.” She explained with a plain expression.

“Oh, so an asshole?” JJ shorted, and the sound made Y/n laugh.

“No. Well—yes, but that’s not why I think it’s so fitting. It’s adventurous, fun. Risky, you know?” She gushed over old literature, and god, if it had been Pope or anyone else, JJ swore he would’ve rung their neck by now, or at the very least ran as far away as possible. But Y/n explained it with a giggle, and JJ simply couldn’t resist listening to each word pouring from her mouth.

“Anyway, I think it’s fitting on a surface level.” She shrugged finally, and then, her eyes flickered over to his. “But I think I like plain old JJ the best.” She smiled sweetly, and then, she licked her chapped lips.

JJ figured if she liked it, he liked it too. He never really longed to know what his name stood for, if it meant anything, but her questions always raised his own. He thought a bit more as they walked between the broken branches and thick grass. He felt bugs on his shins and sweat beading down the back of his neck. He adjusted the old, beat up hat that flattened out his messy blonde hair against his forehead.

“Well, what about you?” JJ finally questioned, itching to hear her philosophies some more.

“What about me?” She continued walking, the sound of running water nearby tumbling down smooth rocks.

“Well, if I’m some outlaw, what does that make you? The damsel?” He smirked, and Y/n couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Could he really picture her in a corset? A layer over another until she was all fabric and barely any skin and bones. A big skirt hiding the frame of her hips and the sweet curls of her hair. She laughed at the image she painted for herself.

“If anything, you’d be the damsel.” She pointed her finger into his arm, looking up at the ground ahead now, and then let out a peaceful sigh.

“The accomplice.” She smiled, hooking her arm in mine. I let my hand slip out of my pocket so she could pull me closer. “But never the follower.” She raised her brows, a serious gleam in her lively eyes through her long lashes.

“Anyway, crime isn’t for me and it isn’t for you either, blondie. You’d end up in jail, and I’d have to bail you out. Hell, I’d probably be behind bars with you too.” She dreamed up the image, already seeing the way JJ would be leaned back, laughing at her stressed out expression. Cool and unbothered, the way he always seemed to be.

“And I don’t know about you, but I don’t just wanna be the kid from the cut who ended up as just another sheriffs little pet. I wanna be something. Someone.” She clenched her fist in determination.

“I wanna be that girl even in my eighties, dancing in the rain and running up and down the beach like my bones can’t flake away.” She smiled brightly. “And I want to scream, I want to yell! I’d scream ferociously, leaping between the waves like we do now, and I’d finally jump from the rocks, and I won’t be scared because I’ll have done it thousands of times.” She painted her future, her desire.

There was no money, no big house with a picket fence and an army of children. Just the ocean, some laughter, and enough fearless ambition to spill into the next lifetime.

“Sounds nice.” JJ agreed, but he didn’t have the same imagination as she did, he didn’t have it in him to dream a dream as pure and grand. So what, he wished for a little money, it didn’t make him any less noble. He didn’t need to live on figure eight, he just didn’t want to be stuck with three jobs until he turned to dirt.

“It will be. And you’ll know it because you’ll be there with me, and we’ll be the same pirates we are now. We’ll smoke on the roof and wear fancy clothing that we made ourselves. We’ll ride the waves and make lemonade and sweet tea like John B’s dad does. We’ll have mustaches from the sugar, and we’ll be young forever with the grass between our toes!”

She stopped, suddenly grabbing his shoulders at the opening of the thick greenery, the sandy beach an open land that laid out for miles around them. The waves hit the smooth rocks, the rougher ones that stood tall thrashing with the heavy water. Sea salt coated their glistening skin.

“We will be interesting forever.” She promised with a serious smile, like she knew there was no other fate for people like them. “And nobody will ever forget how we lived like real people should and how we never let the temptation of a corporate paycheck take away the big picture.”

Her hands wrinkled the shoulders of JJ’s old tank top, the sides cut so far down, it was nearly just a napkin with a hole for his head. Everything about their attire screamed kids from the cut, there was no fooling anyone, yet they carried themselves with pride, like the lack of civility in their lives was a thrill, the dirt and the worms and the bees and sweltering sunburns were all a gift to have been rubbed across them on their walks in the rain, in their summer time hikes to the secret beaches they weren’t supposed to venture on.

The Kooks had it good, an easy life, but Y/n declared that they were the only ones living.

“Well, we can start on that dream now.” JJ declared hopefully, looking out to where the waved lapped at the shore. His ringed fingers pointed out at the rigid rocks that overhung the deep waters.

“If we’ve got a thousand of leaps to take, you have to start with one.” He looked back at the girl, the way she nervously fidgeted before setting her hands stiffly by her sides.

“And then we won’t be scared.” She repeated to herself, but more to him.

“No, we won’t ever be scared again.” And there was a shared understanding, an understanding that dreams are just dreams until they make them more. If she could do this terrifying thing, all for the rest of her deepest wishes to come true, there was a new found certainty that anything scary could be done.

That she and JJ could do all the scary things the world could offer, even just as the awkward children they felt they had grown into. It was possible.

JJ sat in jail for the first time when he turned sixteen. He hated it. His head hung heavily in the palms of his hands, elbows pressed sharply against his thighs, eyes focused on the dirty floor between his old boots.

It wasn’t his fault—not fully at least. Yes, he agreed he had instigated Popes anger, but to JJ he saw everything they had done as self defense. Pope was a good kid, a smart kid, second in the class—no. First. He was first now. She was first, but now she wasn’t. Funny how things can change so quickly, rearrange to make it seem like nothing changed at all.

The point was, Pope had a future, and JJ sure as hell didn’t. Any dreams he had were replaced when she had shared hers, because he decided then that he wanted those things too. But that hope had long vanished, and now Pope had a real chance to chase his dreams, so JJ took the fall. He sunk to a new low just like the boat, sitting alone in the cell she had once warned him about. Only now, she wasn’t there to share it with him.

He thought about that day a lot. Just a year after they’d taken the leap, started the path to their future filled with laughter and whispered secrets, meticulously planned schemes and toothy grins. JJ woke up early, ready to sneak around the back of her house that sat beside John B’s and knock three times on her window. He’d beg her to go sneak away and let loose with him, and of course, she’d agree.

He biked the short distance, ignoring the storm clouds, ignoring all the signs that led straight to the forming pit in his stomach. The worry, the dread. He hadn’t felt it yet. He only felt the dust clouds kicked up by his feet and the rust scratching his shins from his old bike chain.

The police lined her driveway. Sheriff Peterkin stood with her hands in the loops of her belt. Men stood with their weapons drawn, her mother sat on the gravel, handcuffs binding her violent hands. She looked angry, but her eyes were dark with the evidence of liquor. She looked well-rounded from a far, but JJ knew the truth, and the dirt under her nails made his stomach flip.

In the line up of tin and metal, a van with a label he’d known so well from watching his old classmates getting whisked away. Child Protective Services.

“Y/n!” He’d nearly fallen to the ground at how fast he jumped from his bike, the petals grinding against the gravel. He ran the rest of the way, desperate to know what had happened. He had seen her yesterday, she was happy yesterday, what happened? Why were the authorities at her front door?

“Y/n/n! Where are you?” He reached the back window, only to find the emptiness of the bedroom through the cracks in the glass. It was messy, but untouched at the same time. Every single item thrown around left where it had been yesterday. Her pajamas she had laid out, still thrown over her flattened pillows. Untouched.

He hadn’t seen her leave, didn’t hear her cry. The van was empty, he’d caught a glimpse through the tinted windows. They hadn’t snatched her away yet, so where could she have gone?

“Come on!” He grunted, his palms pressing underneath the stubborn window, the wood groaning as the glass slide against itself. His thirteen year old arms bent under the weight, and he cursed his scrawny limbs. The glass only cracked more as it finally shot up enough for the blonde to wiggle himself into the room, soft thuds and gasps escaping his lips as skin pressed between wood and plastic.

“Y/n!” He pleaded more softly, weary of the fact that he was sure the entirety of the Kildare Police Department was lined up outside, and the breathlessness that came with the pressure on his lungs.

He earned no response, and in a desperate effort to trace some clues back to her, he began further ripping the room apart, spinning in circles for some sort of clue, evidence she still existed, that she wasn’t just some name in the wind, another urban legend spread around Kildare for the tourists to gawk at. Underneath her bed, behind the small table she’d made herself with rotting wood and hot glue, in the piles of clothes thrown around. He spun around and bent over until everything ached and he grew dizzy.

His eyes found the crooked clothing rack, a cheep bar of metal she had found with him in a ditch beside an old thrift store. She had painted it teal in the fifth grade and carved her initials into the posts. Her favorite pair of overalls hung limply from where they were draped over the bar, swaying in the wind with a crinkling sound in the front pocket laid flat out in the center of the chest, still covered in mud from their last adventure.

He investigated curiously, and in his best attempt to slow down in his desperate hurry, he pulled out a small slip of paper with his name scribbled on the front.

“Jesse James.” It read just beneath his real name, though it seemed now that she had become the true outlaw.

He opened it with shaking hands, his brows furrowing. When he saw the familiar scratchy handwriting, he internally let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, this wasn’t another one of her failed cursive lessons he always failed.

“JJ,” The note began, “The rich are the bane of my existence. I hope one day, when we are older, we are rich in all aspects of life but the literal sense. Maybe it’s just Kildare, but the more money that lines their pockets, the more cruel people seem to get. But we will be kind forever, and we will continue to swing from tree branches and work long and hard for the simple pleasures. I’ve been ratted out; or—my mom has. Ward Cameron passed by earlier to return a shirt I left at their house at the end of the year party. It was one of her bad nights, you know how she gets. Anyways, he must have heard her, seen it. I didn’t even get the chance to wipe my blood off of the window before the cops started pulling into the driveway. I’m running. I’m running far away into the trees where nobody without a heart will be able to trace me. I promise to come back. After all, what is an accomplice without her influence? But I cannot keep our dream safe in a faraway place where they want to take me. If you need me, picture me in the weeds and you’ll hear me in the folk songs at the Chateau. Until we dance again, Y/n/n.”

JJ stood there in the silence, the banging from outside the house leaking indoors, and soon, he had no choice but to slip out of the familiar sanctuary that was her bedroom, the paper hidden in his blistering palms, damp with the sweat the coated his now clammy skin.

They were thirteen then, freshly graduated from middle school and ready to take on high school. She had been leading the class in all ways, kindness, brains, bravery, and now, there was nothing left but the crumpled note JJ had thrown in the fire out of bitterness towards the Kooks and whispers about the girl who disappeared.

To Narnia, they said. The ball of sunshine and endless life had slipped away to a place where only the creative are let in. She would be a pirate there, she wouldn’t have to hide in the closet on beneath the sheets in fear. She was as free as the August breeze, and JJ was as lost as a drunken sailor.

JJ decided he didn’t want to be an outlaw anymore after his first time behind bars. It wasn’t as fun as she had pictured it. Maybe if the trouble was something interesting, a scheme they could have conjured up together, but it wasn’t a sadder reality. Pirates weren’t on peg legs with eye patches and parrots anymore, and the good and interesting were more boring as they tried to come up with philosophies that could never measure up to the youthful spirit she once had.

He wished for all the beautiful things he once had, and often he found himself wondering if they even still existed. His friends were his life, his soul. But he could still see her braids in woven patterns, hear her feet hitting the concrete and whipping in the tall grass in the breeze, and her laughter in those old cheesy folk songs John B’s dad used to play.

JJ found bliss in recklessness. Partially for himself, but also for her. He always believed in the idea that no matter how far he strayed away, pieces of him would always reflect his father whether he liked it or not. So, when presented with the possibility of a gold hunt that led him right into his jail cell, he took the chance, gambling away his safety for the thrill of the chase.

They had gotten so close too, the heavy metal sitting pretty and shiny in his hand. But he never won, no matter how hard he tried or how much he gambled and chanced and risked, he always came up short, the small half of a wishbone, the edge of the party crackers. He felt like an outlaw now, and it wasn’t nearly as fun as it should have been.

How they all ended up on some boat, JJ had no clue. Well, he had some hints, another forbidden treasure stolen just when he thought they finally won, and now, nothing but heavy breathing in a heated storage container that had no food, no water, nothing but pointless rope and endless trash.

The B team, is what he referred to himself as, which Kiara had taken offense to. Sure, it was low of him to refer to her like she was a worse option, but the blonde was itching for some action.

But he was benched. Benched because he was everything she loved. Reckless, unpredictable, free. He protected that sweet sliver of childhood beauty he found when he thought of her memory. Her sweet eyes, her sweet smile. He had never thought about anyone like that before, and not ever since. He hated braids, hated the way they reminded him of her, how Sarah and Kiara would slap his hands away and grumble about how childish he could be. She wouldn’t have gotten angry, she would have laughed. Or maybe she wouldn’t, he didn’t really know anymore and that killed him.

It killed him that he couldn’t know because he didn’t even know if she made it, if the trees were kind to her or if she had swung herself over the edge on a vine stretched too thin.

She would be eighteen now, just like him, though he was a little older. He wondered if she still wore the two loose braids down over her shoulders, taming her wild hair and tucking her curly strands behind her ears. Did she still swear by overalls? Dare to run barefoot over the hard cement and dive head first into thrashing water? Were there still beautiful things to her, or had life finally caught up to her?

JJ didn’t know her face, and he was sure if it weren’t for the hours he spent trying to find her, trying to trace her cheeks even in photographs, he wouldn’t recall it at all. She was five years older, and so was he. He wasn’t scrawny, he’d swore to get strong so that the day she would finally return, he could slam the windows open and keep her tucked safely behind him.

“What are you thinking about?” Kiara spoke up, legs swinging softly from where she sat on top of piles of plastic and wooden crates. JJ sat curled up in the corner, his elbows resting heavily on his knees. He’d never been so sweaty.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged plainly, focusing on the small circles on the floor made of rubber. They weren’t very comfortable.

“You gonna tell me, or should I guess?” She smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears. He saw a flash of someone he once knew sometimes in her. Sometimes it was nice, other times it made him angry. It wasn’t Kiara’s fault though, not her fault she had spent so much time around the lively firecracker of a girl that she had also become another version of Y/n.

“I know I said a surf trip would be good. I mean it would, but do you ever think about what you might do with all that money?” JJ furrowed his brows, licking over his lip, the split in the corner of the bottom lip stinging at the sensation.

Kiara hummed, leaning back and stretching her neck to catch the passing breeze through the small opening in the top corner of the metal container covered by a vent.

“I mean, yeah. A stable home life would be nice. Then, I’d probably do something with turtles. It’s a lot of money so, could probably do a lot with it.” She reasoned, wiping her skin with her palms and blinking the salty liquid away from her eyes.

JJ hummed. She had it all figured out, her real, serious dream that had stability and certainty. All the things Y/n’s dream never had, the very dreams she made JJ want just as bad.

“You know what Y/n would do with all this money?” JJ snorted at his own thoughts, practically hearing her voice ringing through his head. He heard Kiara hum, waiting for him to continue, and he simply smiled wider. “Absolutely nothing.” He laughed to himself.

Kiara laughed too, knowing deep down he was right. Maybe a tree house, or a small plot of land on the outskirts of society where all good things green can grow and only the wild folk dare to stumble, but nothing more than that. A few thousand, if it even were to cost that much, and the rest pocketed, maybe donated. Maybe just enough left over to buy some new shoes, some good shoes for dancing.

“A lifetime supply of overalls and red converse. Maybe even some nicer scarves to tie in her hair.” Kiara entertained JJ’s thoughts. She still thought of the girl every so often too, they all did, but no one more than JJ. After all, nobody had known her nearly as closely as JJ had. A bond that only comes once every few lifetimes, that’s what they had, Kiara was sure.

“She’s probably outgrown the overalls.” JJ added, and silence fell over them. Then, in the still air that coated the small space in a thick layer, laughter bounced between the pair.

Such a funny thought, to think Y/n could ever change. She had been a lot of things, but she was always herself. She found what she loved, and she loved them dearly. There was no changing her free spirit and old habits, it was who she had grown to be, through and through.

“What do you think she looks like now?” Kiara wondered out loud, looking down at JJ to see the way his brows furrowed and he pulled at the corners of his lips.

JJ thought for some time, because though at first he had tried to piece together and image of Y/n all grown up in his head, he’d long given up on those fantasies because they were never her. Only bits and pieces of the girl he could never forget.

“Bangs.” JJ said suddenly, followed by nothing else. He could picture them, hair sun kissed and twisting up in wild curls that were swept to the side. Not full, choppy bangs, but those cut with rusty scissors in the early morning, just framing bits to tug out when she put her hair up.

“Bangs?” Kiara chuckled, her hands subconsciously slipping over her stomach, and her arms tucking into a firm grasp, a hug she was giving herself. “Nothing else?” She smiled, curious because she had thought about it a lot.

Her hair would no longer be in braids, and those sun kiss freckles would have multiplied like the sparkles in her eyes did. She would have an eyebrow slit, or a piercing, maybe even a stick and poke, all of which she would have done herself to make herself stand out. Maybe she would have finally grown out of her nail biting, but Kiara doubted that part.

“Nope.” JJ said wetly, leaning back further and letting out a deep sigh. “Just like she was, only taller and older.”

Part of JJ wondered if it was his heart forcing him to believe Y/n would never change, and then the other part of his would remind his aching heart that it didn’t matter, because he would never know. All he could do was do as she asked so nicely before she left, picture her in the trees, jumping wildly from stone to stone and dancing in the breeze.

“Do you think she made it?” Kiara wondered out loud, her temple now pressed against the metal confines of the container. The breeze soothed her burning skin, and her sweaty palms threaded through her tight waves.

“Y/n?” JJ asked like it was even a question. It wasn’t even a question to him, wasn’t even an occurring thought, not after the first time he really sat down and thought it over.

“She made it.” He said confidently, because he knew the girl, and even if she had lived in the mud amongst the bugs and the thick vines that attempted to grow over her tired body in the night, she would do it happily because she was living.

“Without a doubt?” Kiara shut her tired eyes, her chest deflating with every labored breath. Sweat glistened as it rolled down the slope of her nose, sparkling on the slivers of sunlight.

“Without a doubt.”

When she said she wanted to be a pirate, she had envisioned a life close to home, lounging around on John B’s old boat with her best friends, drinking from coconuts and ripping the skin off of mangoes with her teeth until the juice stained everything she touched. She imagined a life of pure peace, where the little things were enough and money was an afterthought.

But here she was, skin slick with sweat, hair stuck down to her forehead in damp curls, and her shirt clinging to the denim that covered her. The deck was cooler, a free space for her to stretch her eager legs, and though it was confined, she found peace in the open ocean, a vast space of blue expanding as far as her eyes could see.

Now, her back ached, her wrists just as damp as her face, and with each swipe of the backs of her hands against her temples, she simply spread the wetness across her forehead in a streaking mess.

She fed the flames, shoveling coal and other waste into the small opening, trying to fuel the large ship with what little energy she had left to offer.

Her back ached, and her knees were sore. She loved a challenge, yearned for the work because at least it gave her something to do, something to stick her needy palms into, but she was too worn thin to carry multiple jobs all at once. She desperately waited for the girl she had come to call her close friend to return, shovel in hand and thick gloves covering her relatively well-manicured hands. Cleo, she learned to call the girl over her few months spent on board, had abandoned ship, split when she needed her most. Nobody had said anything about her absence, so Y/n was led to believe she had left without warning.

It was hell below deck, a new low, and Y/n knew low. She could list a few things just from the past couple days if she wanted to scrape the surface, but most memories came from her earlier years, when college still seemed so far away, and she swore she would never grow old. She missed when her joints didn’t ache with even the smallest movements. She missed jumping from branch to branch and swinging herself into the depths of the ocean with reckless abandon.

More than that she missed him. Her best friend, and the only person who had ever believed her when she swore to live out her most childish fantasies. Anyone else always looked at her like she had dreamed of being a fairy, a mermaid, a princess. All things unrealistic and unreachable in her living situation and the rules of the world, yet JJ had always seen it as completely plausible.

If she said she wanted to jump to conquer a fear, there he was tugging her along and laughing the whole way down. If she wanted to dance, he would learn the steps, and fall into line with her, spinning and dipping her in the wet pavement that scraped against their bare feet.

So, as she shouted for some sort of assistance in the basement, she couldn’t help but wonder if she should have let them take her away that day. If she hadn’t been so set on remaining untouched, unfiltered, wild and free, if she had let the warmth of a calm, civilized home find her, would things have ended differently? Was it her mistake for chasing after a feeling of childish wonder that had been stripped of her? Was it wrong to want something so badly simply because her own life had been too hard to ever enjoy at a normal pace?

She hadn’t seen the thick greenery in years, the daffodils snd the daisies only vibrant sights when their stems were sliced and their leafs were wilting. She missed the mud between her toes, the summer air lifting her up. When she wore braids not because they kept her thick hair off of her neck, but because she liked the way they looked. When her overalls were a fashion statement, not because they shielded her from the dangers of her work. She missed the bright red fabric on her converse, and the old doodles from her friends on the soles when they got bored. They were caked in oil, and grime, and sludge. Dimmed by the struggles of her reality. She wondered internally if there were still beautiful things.

Then, like her prayer had been caught in the wind by her savior, there was some scrambling that echoed across the floorboards, followed by distant shouting and metal hitting metal.

Mumbling and chaos shook the frame where she stood, distant cries and grunts as bodies slammed together leaving her torn in a moment of desperation. Her heart ached to go, to run and finally catch her breath, to see what disaster had swept over the ship in such a short moment of time, but her brain thought logically, told her to feed the flames to keep everyone afloat. It was a split second decision, the divide between rational and reasonable.

And then she thought about all the good in the past few days. She thought of the glimpses of the world she’d stolen between the bustling mornings and the restless nights, of the small treats she stuffed in her pockets and the beautiful sunsets and clear constellations in the center of a world untouched by light pollution. She thought of Cleo, her only friend she’d found in a life where she only knew abandonment and fear. Where the only affection she had ever accepted had hurt her, and the only good and gentle people in her life had fled, Cleo had appeared like an angel, a thick accent and a toothy grin. Born and raised as a thief, and trained as a fighter. She was smart, and kind beneath her rough edges, and Y/n thought of the sadness in her eyes each time she worked until her bones stung. She thought of how badly she wanted to dive into the waves below them and pull the girl with her to show her how freeing running can be.

Faced with fear, she could not save either of them if she waited for another miracle, another moment to excuse her actions, to make her breaking loose seem justified if it were to all go wrong. If they’d have her head for betrayal, the ocean waited for her on all ends, and she believed in her ability to survive confidently enough to take the risk presented to her.

She took the stairs two at a time, and the door to the outside air swung open with such force, it echoed like a gunshot when metal connected with metal, bolts grinding together angrily, her soot covered hands staining the rusting exterior, the cheap white paint flaking off where her hand had pressed firmly against the door.

“Cleo!” She shouted in the wind, her arms covered in goosebumps as the slick sweat became a layer of gel that turned her warmth into an uncomfortable chill.

She looked frantically, turning corners and sprinting over ramps and down steep stairwells. She hopped over ropes and swung from bars, her dirty sneakers slapping against the floors in heavy steps, and her breathing coming out in short pants through her nose.

“John B!” A quiet shout rattled down the thin hall that lined the perimeter of the deck, bouncing off of the thick walls and hollow railings. It was a name she hadn’t heard in a while. For a moment, she thought she had imagined it, that in her moment of desperation to grasp onto the bits and pieces of bliss in her hellish life, her mind had reeled and found a temporary way to cope. But then it came again.

“Where is he? John B!” The voice called out again, whiny and pleading, and much too loud on a ship crawling with people who were indescribably more dangerous and destructive than the cruel people who lingered in her hometown.

Then came the struggle, more grunting, and the sound of shoes scraping against the floor in a slippery mess. She could hear faint taunts, familiar names of people she longed to see again ever since the day she had left, and the sounds of exasperation over the loud lapping of waves against the side of the ship.

“Kie, now!” She heard suddenly, a deafening shout that silenced all other chaos around her, her breathing slowing in her ears and her heartbeat pounding against her temples.

It was as if time slowed, and all things far away rushed at her in a blink of her eyes. It was slow, yet so fast, her vision blurring into a jumbled mess to the rhythm of her unsteady heartbeat drumming against her ribs, begging to get out.

It was a voice she prayed to hear again, only deeper and raspier, but still the same. A voice that called to her in her darkest moments and pulled her from her slumps, reminded her of all the beauty of instability, of pure trust in luck and intuition. A voice that she had grown to love and hold dear to her, one so precious she found herself covering her ears so that she would never forget the sweet sound of it.

“JJ?” She pivoted quickly, her hip slamming harshly into the metal railing and her shoulder making contact with the opposing wall as she used the accidental thrashing as momentum down the long, swaying strip of flooring she ran on.

She felt crazy, delusional chasing after a sound she wasn’t even entirely sure was real. She had been dehydrated, overworked, underpaid, forgotten about and thrown to the side amongst all the other treasures that laid untouched beneath the deck. She used to scream ferociously anytime she wanted, and now it felt more like her life had become an exhibit at the zoo, a cage for her bosses to look down on, tossing fish to keep her from starving. What had happened to her freedom, her love for recklessness? She decided to hold onto her delusion, to chase it because to be wrong was better than to be certain in her correctness and abandon her love for the chase.

“JJ? JJ!” She shouted, her voice coming out in broken cries, knuckles whitening with how hard they gripped anything with a corner or a curve. Anything that could keep her afloat as she dove into waters so deep, she couldn’t touch anymore.

“Cleo!” Her cries echoed through the tense air, carrying over the grunts and slamming and shouting that passed through coworkers, some she knew, and others she didn’t. If she couldn’t be given the life long dream to reunite with her drive, her motivation to keep going, she prayed to whoever was listening to her that at least her friend would be waiting for her at the end of the hall.

The boat rocked with a shift of weight, a crane groaning under the intense pressure of something indestructible, and in the glistening sunlight, Y/n caught sight of something truly magnificent. A golden cross shining in the halo of sunlight that surrounded it in all of its glory, a true treasure that had been, unbeknownst to her, been stuffed away just mere feet away from where she had been working until not a single inch of her body didn’t know pain.

She stumbled back at the sight, the jewels imbedded into the holy fortune sparkling with a beauty Y/n had never seen in person. It took her back to her days at Sunday school sat right beside JJ. Her mother wasn’t a religious woman, but JJ’s father was, and so with an excuse to be cut loose from the torture of her house—because she refused to call it a home; she too began to believe in something greater than what she was supposed to believe in.

For the first time in her life, her neck craned up to look at the artifact which swung ferociously in the wind, the groaning crane whipping it around erratically, Y/n closed her eyes, and she prayed.

She didn’t ache for the chase, for uncertainty in this moment. She was unchanging in all her beliefs, but for one singular second, she prayed and pleaded that for once, there would be certainty in who she would stumble across.

Then, with a sudden feeling of calamity in the midst of reigning chaos burning over the life she had grown accustomed to, Y/n rounded the corner, stepping down the last bit of the hall into the thicker opening of the side of the deck, lined with a few stray crates to block off broken pieces of the rusted railings.

And there it was, the sudden loss for breath, the heavy feeling that weighed down everything she could once do without even thinking. Her feet refused to move, and her nails dug into the ragged shorts of her overalls. The wind blew her curly, sweaty bangs across her face, tickling her nose. Her entire world shattered and then became rebuilt at the relieving sight.

It was a man she did not know, someone who had joined the expedition under the employment of someone Y/n wasn’t allowed to know. A man who simply worked for another man much wealthier than she was, erratically swinging his curved machete around in an act of violence against two people she recognized clear as day as if time had never passed them by.

Kiara sat bent over, the wind knocked out of her as her cheeks puffed up to try and keep what little air she had left inside of her. Her hair hung over her bright eyes, her pink lips bitten raw, Y/n could make out that detail even from a distance. But there, just s few feet away, stood JJ backed up against the railing, leaning dangerously close to the edge, his hair wild and untamed like the rest of his appearance.

He wasn’t the boy Y/n had left behind. He wasn’t the scrawny tow headed blonde who liked to tease and run, but rather a more muscular blonde with a fire in his eyes, passion that couldn’t be manufactured, but found through growing up. He was just as beautiful as she remembered, just as dear, just as lovable. Even without a single bit of insight on what he had been up to, how he could have changed, Y/n’s feelings for her best friend had been long cemented within her heart. She loved him like no other, to the moon and to Saturn.

She was only broken out of her lovesick visions by the sight of the unfamiliar man growing closer to her friends, his grip tightening around his weapon like a threat, and Y/n feared the worst.

“JJ!” Y/n found her tongue, which had previously gone numb at the sight in front of her. She had shouted out for the boy to warn him, to try and get him to recognize the mans posture, how he stalked over Kiara like a looming threat, but she was foolish to believe that the sight of her, even so many years later when she was sure he would have learned to forget her, wouldn’t stop him in his tracks.

His blue eyes found hers, and she could see how his body seemed to tense, and then very quickly, slump in shock. His jaw fell slack, eyes widening and brows furrowing, almost as if he was in pain, in some sort of conflict. To run into her arms, or to focus on why her shouting was so desperate, so raw and broken.

He wanted to speak, to beg her to tell him if this was all real, or if the heat from the container had caused some sort of heat stroke and he was hallucinating her up to comfort him in a time of crisis. But his breath refused to come out, and in a blur, the blunt end of a blade struck his head, and his feet swept over the edge of the boat, plummeting him into the depths of the sea below.

In that moment, Y/n realized three things. One; she had spent so much of her life dreaming, she had left so little time to go and live those dreams. Two; in every single thing she had ever wanted so badly it had become a part of her dreams, JJ had always been there right alongside her. In most, he even led her confidently, and three; that very same boy she had been dreaming of for endless nights, until her entire youth was filled with only dreams of him, had just gone overboard, and now, so was she.

Her dirty shoes scraped the edge of the railing. Part of her felt like spreading her arms out wide to welcome the wind, but as her wide eyes flickered from the golden hues of the sky to the deep blue that seemed miles away, fear struck her body.

It was a long drop. Much farther down than the rocks she had learned to leap from effortlessly, hand in and with her best friend to guide her. Water thrashed below her then, and it did so now too.

He floated below her, face down and limp and she felt her blood pumping. Back then, he had held her hand firmly and whispered out promises into her ear with each doubt she had. Back then, she believed every word he said when he promised there wasn’t a single possibility she would get hurt because he was right there. And when she leaped with him, he had been right.

“Wasn’t it fun?” He had laughed back then, so excited to have been right. Her face was unreadable, her lip trembling and eyes wide. For a moment, he had panicked, even at twelve years old he understood what it felt like to want to keep something so special safe. He held her face, cradled it in his wet palms until her cheeks lifted into a smile.

“Can we go again?” She had giggled, feeling a familiar warmth in the pit of her stomach spreading.

“Yeah. Yes!” He encouraged, proud of her bravery and her ability to find pleasure in things that once scared her.

He was always more brave than her in her eyes. She imagined if it were her down there, he would have already jumped in no hesitation.

Y/n looked down again, and then back at Kiara, who was back up on her feet, limbs tangled with the man she still didn’t know the name of. She was struggling to a degree, but quickly got some ground to push off of.

“Y/n!” Kiara called out from over the mans broad shoulder, eyes frantic and her skin dusty from the mans shirt and the wooden deck.

She could see her internal debate, both people who were so special to her put in situations where they were nearly helpless. To leave JJ meant he would be on his own, but to leave Kiara opened up so many more possibilities.

“Go! I’m okay!” Kiara promised as he pushed the man away, getting some leverage, and at the desperation in her voice, something inside clicked within Y/n.

The bottom of her worn out shoes scraped against the old metal, and for a moment the wind felt freeing as she leaped out, the warmth from the sun made it feel like flying, like by some miracle she could never fall. But the cool water below crushed her imagination as it wrapped around her body like a cold blanket.

When she surfaced, the world around her spun, echoes of her old pleas to go again ringing through her ears as her limbs cut through the waves desperately, goosebumps pebbling down her arms almost instantly.

“JJ!” She shouted, her voice raw and ripped from all the desperation she felt, how vulnerable and helpless she felt.

He laid on his stomach, submerged with no air like a starfish, only bobbing with the current. He seemed completely washed of all life.

She felt weak splashing over to him. She kicked and cut through the waves like she needed it to survive, and yet her malnourished bones only let her go so far so fast. It felt taunting to her, having to watch him get closer at a snails pace.

Y/n’s arms wrapped around him feebly, his larger body resting heavily on her shoulder. He was broader now, no longer the small boy she had to leave behind. If only he knew how quickly her dreams were crushed in order to survive, if only she’d been more careful, if she hadn’t left her shirt. If only she’d didn’t look like her father, if only her mother was a good woman.

“JJ hey, I’m back, wake up okay?” She smiled weakly, like her presence could shake him. He swallowed so much water, she knew it. If only she wasn’t so scared. If only she hadn’t been stripped of all the bravery she had learned from him.

The boy’s head rolled to the side with each tap of her wrinkled fingers, the cold biting their limbs with each lap of the waves crashing into them.

“JJ, come on wake up please!” She grew frantic as the water seemed to only grow rougher, a vision of the thrashing water between the jagged rocks clouding her reality and his weight sinking them down below the surface.

“JJ!” She cried out, her voice ripping through the heavy pants and her nails digging into his body. Blood stained his hairline, his blonde hair now darkened from the water and strawberry at the roots from his wound.

She knew it better than she ever had. He had grown stronger while she had been whittled down into only a shell of who she had once been. He was taller, faster, braver than she ever was, and as hard as she kicked her legs and splashed around, it felt like more and more waves seemed to pull them under momentarily.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She apologized towards the sky, guilty for not being able to keep them afloat in the choppy waters. “I’m sorry, I love you.” She promised, and she held onto him tighter with each passing second, even as her vision started to blur.

After all, he always loved the company and she was afraid of loneliness and the dark.

“I love you, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m trying J, I really am!” She promised through gasps of air, water falling from her lips more rapidly now.

“John B!” She screamed, her voice piercing through the empty space. “Pope!” She called out again, hoping that just one of her friends might hear her. Would they recognize her voice, she wondered, or had growing up changed everything about her? Had she become unrecognizable?

She surely didn’t recognize herself anymore. She avoided mirrors, and parties, and small talk often. She hated the sound of her voice and how it had changed and how she’d grown taller and how her freckles seemed to dot her face more messily. How she had to live with the changes that would make her harder to recognize if she would ever get to meet her friends again.

“JJ, please wake up.” She pleaded again, all other sounds beyond her heavy breathing and the faint ringing in her ears falling deaf.

She recalled the last time she heard him laugh. She heard it in her sleep, covered her ears to drown out anyone else’s late at night to savor the sound. She recalled running her fingers through his hair under the stars, promising him one day everything would be okay. It would be okay, right? One day it would be okay?

“Kiara!” Her throat felt raw now, the salt water tearing apart her dry lips and stinging the scrapes on her palms and knees. Everything hurt, the more and more she begged and cried for help, the longer time seemed to stretch. The heavier he grew in her arms.

There was nothing she could do to change what was happening to them, no plywood or branch to grab onto, no ladder or savior to come and save them. Her heart felt empty, her chest closing in. If she had a mirror, she would’ve seen the loss of color fading from her skin. She missed the certainty she once hated. She missed everything about knowing what tomorrow brought, when she knew JJ would still be tapping at her window, when he wasn’t lying limp in her arms.

She hated it and cried about it, though it was pointless. She cried out for help but her voice was muted with bubbling water, her head bobbing below the surface. For a moment, her vision cleared as the waves dipped, and she swore she saw the outline of a figure in the distance, but she couldn’t be sure. The waters rose just as quickly as they fell, and with a deadly grip, her arms wrapped around JJ to ensure not even the strongest currents could pull them apart as her body gave out. And in a sudden moment of weakness and a final soft apology and a kiss to the blondes cheek, the feeling of sinking was a gift.

Then, the tugging. It was desperate, nails drawing blood by her neck, three or four pairs of hands pressing their palms deep into her raw skin, fingers all wrapping around her before the depths could take her. She felt the rough material before she saw it, the dark grey fabric lining the outside of the small boat, a large motor in the back and each empty space filled with a familiar face, all of their legs bent upwards in an impossibly uncomfortable position to save space.

Her breaths came out ragged, heavy dry heaves leaving drops of water heavy with saliva stringing from her mouth. Blood trickled down the bridge of her nose, a new, burning scratch earned in the messy tug-o-war to save her from sinking.

Y/n swore she felt her heart stop with each cough, eyes squeezed shut and her back hunched over in pain. Her palms pressed into the bottom of the boat until her body found the floor, and her knees slide beneath her.

Still, she recognized two things; one, the air sent pins and needles down every bump that had spread over her skin, her joints screaming with each small bend; and two, JJ was laying lifeless just a few inches away.

His head was propped up against the side of the boat, the fabric wrapped around what Y/n assumed was an inflated portion of the body. His face was tiled away from her, having lolled to the side as the boy Y/n recognized as John B through her blurry vision frantically steered the boat.

The blood had stopped trickling down JJ’s forehead, but the sight of his breathing so shallow and uneven, as if he was fighting each time to get another chance to breathe, sent an uneasy feeling through Y/n’s body, and panic shot straight into her brain.

“JJ!” Her voice came out rough, stripped from all her panic alongside the copious amounts of water that nearly filled her lungs. But despite her obvious aching and tender pain, her hands grasped the boy with a new found determination, her knuckles shaking with the intensity of her grip on his skin.

JJ’s head rested against the boat, but his back no longer pressed at an awkward angle between the elevated sides and the hollow floors, but rather laid tucked against Y/n’s lap, her left hand pulling him close, even as her arm shook with his weight mixed with her weakness all while her right ran affectionately through his wet hair, trying to rouse him from his unconscious state.

“No, no, no, no. Please, please I just got you back please.” She begged, her trembling hand connected against his cheek in quick, soft taps.

Her eyes filled with tears immediately at the horrific sight, her lip trembling all the way down through her chin. She breathed deeply, but choked it all the way down. She could barely swallow, her saliva and her pride stuck between her teeth. Guilt consumed her.

“JJ!” She shouted, nearly demanding that he wake up like a distraught child. Her voice was laced with a whiny tone, each plea falling from her mouth more broken than the previous.

Y/n’s hands connected with JJ’s chest, no longer providing that warm comfort that her delicate palms had as her fingers ran through his hair and cradled his wet face, but rather quick jabs at his firm body, just below his heart.

Her curtain-like bangs hung in curls over her face, dripping onto JJ’s chin and neck and reflecting small images of the girls distraught expression. With each shake, another droplet rolled off of his skin, and with each push she felt his back dig into her knee.

Y/n felt hands on her back, soft, smaller hands gently pressed against her shoulder blades, right between the crevice between the bones. The fingers were adorned with rings, the delicate hands rubbing soothing circles as her back shook with suppressed sobs.

“It’s all my fault.” Y/n’s voice broke, her lips trembling and her words nothing more than a shattered whisper. She stopped hitting the blonde boy, and instead covered her mouth to contain her cries of guilt, and grief. “If I had been braver I could have gotten to him sooner.” She tried to reason, needing something to blame to give her some form of organization, even if the blame was inflicted onto herself.

“Y/n.” The girl who kneeled closely murmured, her hand a point of stability as Y/n watched the sky fall. “It’s not your fault.” She tried to provide comfort, but her attempts fell short.

“But it is!” Y/n nearly snapped, but not out of anger, of something else.

Everyone was looking at her, she had caught it the second they had pulled her from the sea. She was a spectacle, a great vision of the past, a figure that had slipped from the lives they had grown attached to long ago. Someone they had all missed and grieved in their own time. And so they stared at her and drank up the changes they had missed.

She was pretty. Y/n was always pretty, but now she was especially pretty. She grown up to be taller than she was when she left, her hair curls twisting all the way down her back, the short hair now a distant memory, and her body curving in ways that gave proof of her aging. She was the more mature version of the firecracker that had been shot too close to the sun too soon. Their light that had burnt out prematurely.

And so they all looked at her, ogling like she was something out of a fantasy film instead of looking at him.

“No, no, no! You don’t get it!” She threw her arm up in frustration, tilting her head back to force the building bile in the back of her mouth to go down. Why couldn’t it just all go down? Push it down, that’s what she needed to do. Push it down. Forget it, and push it down. “I’ve ruined everything. A-and I’m no good and I’ve fucked it all up!” Y/n sobbed, her head hanging forward now, shoulder slumped and her hands now gripping the wet shirt that clung to JJ’s body so tightly, her knuckles turned white.

“I should’ve jumped, I should’ve jumped in but I was too scared and he was there, he was there and if he hadn’t and it had been me he would’ve. He would’ve jumped in because he’s not afraid of anything. He would’ve have held my hand and he would have told me it would all be okay because he’s braver than me and he’s a whole lot better than me.” She rambled, and the wording of her breathless explanation made little sense to those who crowded around her, those who hadn’t experienced the moments Y/n and JJ were free of civility.

“Y/n.” Pope, the smartest of them all, spoke up, his voice emerging from behind a blonde girl she recognized as Sarah Cameron even all these years later and the familiar, yet somehow, not comforting face of her newer companion, Cleo.

Y/n didn’t listen, she refused to, too overpowered by her self blame, pointing her fingers at herself before anyone else got the chance. Why wasn’t anyone else freaking out? Did the loss of their friend not rip them completely open like it had her? Or had her best friend she had kept as a fond memory, completely kind and loving grown bitter and cold over the years? Was he not the JJ she knew?

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Her eye contact was fleeting, and in a final attempt to cling onto what she could before all was lost, her head fell to JJ’s chest, her forehead pressed against his shirt, listening to the fading beating of his heart.

Then, a cough, then another and another until a loud heave tore open JJ’s lips, a thick mixture of warm salt water and stringy spit drooling down his clammy skin, splatters of the mixture falling into Y/n’s salt-soaked hair.

She didn’t care, of course she wouldn’t, not even if it were blood and vomit, she swore she wouldn’t as she raised her head, her eyes flickering to where JJ’s brows furrowed, his shoulders drawing forward.

Y/n rested her hand in the dip on the center of his chest, applying soft pressure to ease his wheezing.

“JJ.” She breathed out, relieved and yet completely broken from the near loss, one she couldn’t handle again.

The thought alone shook her. He would never know how hard it was for her to leave, how badly she wished she had just hidden in the closet. But she knew her hiding could only do so much, the evil would find her and she had to go, she had to go to save them both.

"Yeah, yeah! Cough it out, cough it out baby!" John B encouraged, a sea of instructions following from the others in a desperate hurry, all reaching over to simply feel for a steady thumping of a pulse, all while the deafening ringing filled Y/n’s ears, her eyes stuck to the pretty sight of JJ’s face.

Y/n sat back on her heels, but her body fell forward in a deeper slump to protect the boy from the burning sun. She felt sick, and crazy, and confused. She wanted to throw up, scared of how fragile the boy might have become.

"Welcome to the land of the living, dude." Popes voice cut through the distant bells, the busy streets, all the background noise that flickered in short fragments through her head.

At her realization of his return, as it really sunk in, Y/n’s touch became a hovering sensation over his body, fingers shaking over his chest like she believed she had the power to only cause harm to what was already hurt, like she could fracture what had been a small crack.

Her chest felt like it was closing in, her ribs clenching around her heart tightly, and she wondered if it was what dying felt like, if JJ had felt something similar while each breath became less full.

Her mind spun like a broken clock, thoughts of self deprecation running in a constant loop, leading back to the same problems in similar processes with no end in sight. How beautiful was the feeling to be pulled from her spiral by the sight of his blue eyes focused on her face, tracing the curve of her nose down to the cupids bow on top of her lip.

She waited for him to speak, to say anything to her. Her heart pounded waiting to hear his voice, how lovely each syllable rolled off of his tongue. But the silence stretched on, just heavy breaths and tight grip that kept them connected.

His arm raised from where it lay limply by his side, his index and his thumb reaching by her arm to twirl the end of one of her braids between his fingers. In a swift motion, the pads of his fingers pinched the loose strands, and tugged for a short moment hard enough to tilt her head to the side.

She let out a soft gasp, only in reverse. All her air had deflated out of her chest, spreading a soothing sensation through her tightly wound bones just like the warm smile that expanded across her flushed cheeks.

Her laughter was a work of art, the most beautiful music JJ had ever heard, just as light and sweet as he remembered it. She hadn’t changed much, yet she had. She had more freckles now, and he found Kiara was right about the bangs. Yet her hair was still woven into the familiar pattern of two braids that now hung loosely at the bottom of her head, twisting and falling over her shoulders perfectly. She was taller, older, but he felt the shortness of her nails against his skin, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself knowing old habits die hard.

“There’s my favorite pirate.” JJ finally spoke, his voice gravely from the exhaustion that traveled through him, leaving his body heavy and soft in Y/n’s arms.

“Theres my favorite outlaw.” Y/n joked back, her voice just as soft as it was the first time he heard it that day on the beach. Just like it had been when he heard it even when she was gone, in the trees, and floating through the folk songs that spread throughout the old Chateau.

“Welcome back to the good life.” JJ laughed, and the sparkles in his eyes as he said it held every bit of truth within that statement.

It was a life that promised all she ever wanted to be. One where they could be interesting forever, where they would be kind forever.

This was the best life, the most freeing one she could ever dream of. It wasn’t about swinging from the vines or leaping from the ledges anymore, but rather the guiding hand on her back as she scraped her knees and chipped her baby teeth. It was always him, the influence to her accomplice.

She had promised to run freely with him again, to dance with him just like they used to and lucky enough, Y/n’s shoes were good for dancing.

“I claim thee, Poguelandia.” JJ’s foot propped up against the old tree that hung low over the sand. It’s tilted stump holding firm in the breeze, and its ancient branches shaking from the way John B’s hands gripped the leaves.

“Do we get a vote?” Sarah complained, rolling her eyes at the uncreative name JJ had thought of on the fly.

“Nope.” JJ smiled, pointing a finger at the blonde girl. “It’s already patented and pending.” JJ spoke confidently.

“Define that.” Pope sassed, crossing his arms and lying back against the old bark. Silence filled the sandy space, soft laughter echoing around the small circle everyone had created, sitting as comfortably as possible of the dying drift wood.

JJ shook off the comment, a smile forever present on his face despite the pounding headache and small bump forming on his temple.

“I like the ring of it.” JJ ignored Pope, pressing his palm against the large tree everyone gathered around and leaning into his hip until his shirt hung just above where Y/n’s body sat slumped in the sand.

She let out a soft laugh, if it could eve be considered that. More of a huff of air escaping her nose, a smile slowly spreading across her cheeks. Despite the quietness of her amusement, it seemed to only push JJ on, his eyes sparkling at the familiar sound he had gone without.

“I’m gonna make a flag. It’s gonna have a chicken on it. With a coconut bra smoking a ‘j’ in crocs.” He continued with his wild fantasy, watching how the girl beneath him hunched over with laughter and brought her hands to cover her toothy grin. “Y/n likes it.” He pointed out proudly.

“Yeah, I didn’t say that.” The girl quickly argued, tossing her head back and stretching her neck to catch his eyes. Though she tried to keep that same fight she once had with him, that natural bickering that made their relationship so beautifully complex, the reality that she finally had him again set in swiftly, and her serious expression failed to mask her excitement.

“Whatever, she totally does.” The boy swatted his hand, playfully pushing the girls head forward until she nearly bent in half. Just where they had left off, completely comfortable in each others touch and always ready to give back what they took.

“We were feeding a broken engine for hours, I think we’d both take anything over that.” Cleo pointed out, bumping her shoulder against the flustered girl beside her. Y/n couldn’t help but give Cleo a soft shove. An old habit she never really squashed.

“We? You bailed ship Cleo, don’t think I forgot.” Y/n said, pointing a finger at the sweaty girl who seemed uncomfortably close even with the endless amount of space around them. A whole island to themselves.

Then, with a careful glance to make sure JJ had leaned away from her, she stood up quickly, wiping sand off of the wet denim that clung to her skin, each cuffed leg weighing her down just a little more.

“Why don’t we leave the naming stuff to Kiara or Pope. Or you know…not you.” She twisted her braids between her hands, tugging the stretched bands out from the ends to free her now nearly dry hair from the patterns woven throughout. As she ran her knuckles through the tangles, her hands clasped around the legs of her overalls, her hands unrolling the pants until they sat just above her ankles.

“Where are you going?” JJ called out for her, not used to the proximity of her now that he had grown used to the distance. He chased after her as quickly as she began to walk away, chasing after the rush just the faint smell of her gave him.

“It’s gonna get dark soon, right? Can’t live off of salt water, J.” She teased, her feet leaving wet prints across the sand, kicking up the dirt in clumps that stuck to the backs of her heals.

He followed like a dog, practically weaving between her legs with his tail wagging in excitement, a familiar rush that was only brought out in the forever thrilling presence of her.

She took the pocket knife from the ripping pocket in the center of her chest, dark denim carrying puddles of the ocean in the stitching. With a bend of her knees, he watched as she dug the blade into the fabric that dripped around her feet, slicing the legs with a tearing sound just above her knee. With her other hand, she rolled the overalls higher, and stuck the closed knife back into its home. She left the cut pants in the sand where they had pooled by her ankles, walking by like it had been nothing. JJ figured she had done it before, probably when she was younger and on the run.

“I don’t remember you being so quick around a blade.” JJ teased, bumping his elbow against hers. He wanted to tug at her hair again, but his fingers curled around nothing by his sides as he decided on admiring the slope of her nose down to her pretty smile instead.

“Bull—shit, yes you do.” She laughed, turning to him with a sense of wonder in her curious gaze. “I used to cut you out of shit all the time!”

“Nah.” JJ played it off, but the blush on his cheeks betrayed him. “I let you. So we could play pirates and all that.” He lied through his teeth, recalling all the times he stumbled through the thick bushes just a little too carelessly and how Y/n’s rusting knife had cut his laces just a little shorter each time he lost a boot in the entanglement of twigs.

“Oh is that what we’re calling it now?” She bickered back, biting back a large smile in exchange for a playful grin. If she had access to the dusty space that she had once called home, she would have hung up the dusty laces that had been stored away in some box shoved beneath her bed.

“Yup.” He popped the p, licking over his dry lips with his tongue swiftly, tasting the salt on his skin.

A comfortable silence fell over the pair, her steps falling into line with his, and their hands shoved deeply into the depths of their pockets, fingers poking through the holes at the bottom from rough knuckles and heavy rocks.

With a heavy sigh, JJ tried to catch her eye, yet it remained trained on the sky like it was the most perfect thing she’d ever seen. He wondered silently if she’d seen the hues they once adored so much as kids recently, or if the thrilling life on deck had swept away her favorite thing, stargazing and watching the sky change as if she needed to put it to memory.

“So.” He finally broke the silence, her breathing hitching only to relax once her eyes found his, a gentle reassurance that everything would be as it once was, that the chase was finally over. “Was it as cool as it was promised?” He couldn’t help but ask, the same childlike wonder sparkling in his eyes.

“What?” Y/n let out a breathy laugh, wiping her hands on her tanned thighs.

“The pirate life. Where civility doesn’t exist and dreams can come true.” He clarified.

To anyone else, they might have believed it was condescending, a taunting question to shame her for her deathly grasp on all the childhood promises nobody ever kept for her. But to Y/n, she knew he really meant it when he asked, that he wanted to know if what they dreamed up was really as good as they pictured it on paper.

“It’s no Peter Pan story.” She breathed through her nose, eyes flickering down at the way her body was blossoming with bruises from her restless work, her dreams all crushed within the first week spent on the sea.

“I tried to make it Neverland, I really did. But you can’t change what happens to you, no matter how far you run. It’s like running in a circle. You go so far, yet nowhere at all.” Y/n knew she would never enjoy the pirate life she once dreamed of. In her dreams, JJ and her were co-captains, sailors with fancy white hats and no hooks for hands.

Now she felt like she should be fearing the ticking of the clocks, and running from the danger that once excited her.

“Did you believe it?” She couldn’t help but ask, wondering if her JJ had really waited to hear all the stories she promised to share with him, all the hustle and bustle of her fantasies.

JJ paused, then, looked at his sad friend’s face, and gave her a sympathetic nod. It wasn’t completely truthful, but that’s what happens naturally. He always believed in her and her curiosity towards the simple things in life. He believed that all the times he felt he had an ounce of childhood to hold onto were only beliefs because she had made them so. And when she had to go, so did the nice things he saw in nothing at all.

“I won’t confess that I believed it, that I didn’t have my doubts, but I always figured you’d be okay. That you’d find your way and maybe even come home.” What he didn’t say is all the times he’d left the lamp on, kept it burning on the porch so she’d know someone was home if she were to return.

He didn’t tell her that he had only gone on the wild gold hunt because part of him believed if he had the money to back it up, he could search every part of the earth to find her. Because it wouldn’t matter if he had or hadn’t told her, it wouldn’t make a difference and it wouldn’t change a thing.

They both made promises they couldn’t keep, and that was just the way life seemed to go. So she didn’t ask where he had been all these years, and he never asked about where she had gone. The timing would come to them eventually, and it would all work out. There was no point in catching up for two souls that had never been truly apart.

JJ and and Y/n had walked themselves to a ledge by the end of their conversation, nothing but soft breathing and the comfort of the wet, warm winds to wrap around them like a soothing blanket of serenity.

Y/n would be lying if she said the height didn’t scare her, if the wild waves below didn’t cause a crisp trepidation to shoot through her limbs. It was a big jump, the final leap she had always dreamed of.

The waves hit the smooth rocks, the rougher ones that stood tall thrashing with the heavy water. Sea salt coated their glistening skin, and as the wind blew through her hair, she came to a realization she had never considered before.

All this time she believed she had been something like Peter Pan. She joked about pirates, and running free, and all things children should know and love, and she acted fearlessly like she would forever be that version of herself. Yet, as time closed in on her and she grew taller, maturity had grown into her bones with each added inch. She was no Peter, she was more of a Wendy, and at first it had killed her, but only for a moment.

When she looked over to her side, she saw the blonde she had fallen in love with when she was still so little. They were young, and with their spirits, she was sure part of them would always be. And she knew then, if she was Wendy, he was her Peter.

“What?” JJ smiled, catching her glances. Standing proudly beside him, only older than the last time they’d met up. She had promised to grow up and come find him. She guessed she wasn’t lying about that.

"We will be interesting forever." She recited her promises from their youth, promises that were oceans deep with a serious smile, like she knew there was no other fate for people like them. "And nobody will ever forget how we lived like real people should and how we never let the temptation of a corporate paycheck take away the big picture."

Her hands reached up to hold JJ like she had when they stood only five feet tall. Now here he was, towering over her like he always promised he would. She wrinkled the shoulders of JJ's old tank top, the sides cut so far down, it was nearly just a napkin with a hole for his head. Everything about their attire screamed outlaws, pirates, lost boys, fighters, and believers. There was no fooling anyone, yet they carried themselves with pride, like the lack of civility in their lives was a thrill, the dirt and the worms and the bees and sweltering sunburns were all a gift to have been rubbed across them on their walks in the rain, in their summer time hikes to the secret beaches they weren't supposed to venture on.

The Kooks had it good, an easy life, but Y/n declared that they were the only ones living.

“Do you still dream the same dreams?” JJ asked softly, the wind blowing through his messy blonde hair, and the ocean rolling calmly below them now.

She nodded, letting her hands fall into his, and tugging at the loose threads that fell from his worn out friendship bracelets. Just fractions of the ones she had littering her own wrists.

"I still wanna be that girl in my eighties, dancing in the rain and running up and down the beach like my bones can't break away." She smiled, and he noticed how much more sincere it felt now. "And I want to scream, I want to yell. I'd scream ferociously, leaping between the waves like we did now, and I'd finally jump from the rocks, and I won't be scared because l'll have done it thousands of times." She painted her future, her desire with a loving glance into JJ’s blue eyes.

There was no money, no big house with a picket fence and an army of children. Just the ocean, some laughter, and enough fearless ambition to spill into the next lifetime.

"Sounds nice." JJ agreed, only now he had grown to have the same imagination as she did, he had it in him to dream a dream as pure and grand. He didn't need to live on figure eight, he didn't even mind being stuck with three jobs until he turned to dirt of it meant they would be dancing together forever.

"It will be. And you'll know it because you'll be there with me, and we'll be the same pirates we are now. We'll smoke on the roof and wear fancy clothing that we made ourselves. We'll ride the waves and make lemonade and sweet tea like John B's dad did when we were kids. We'll have mustaches from the sugar, and we'll be young forever with the grass between our toes.” She kept her word, because there it was, the same sparkle in her eyes. The same sweet, delicate wonder.

"Well,” JJ began, his eyes leading hers to where the grass overhung the large fall into the deep blue below. “we can start on that dream now." JJ declared hopefully, looking out to where the waved lapped at the shore. His ringed fingers pointed out at the rigid rocks that overhung the deep waters.

"If we've got a thousand of leaps to take, you have to start with one." He looked back at the girl, the way she didn’t seem to be nervously fidgeting like she had when he first promised everything would be okay.

"And then we won't be scared." She repeated to herself, but more to him, more for the memory of the first time she felt like flying.

"No, we won't ever be scared again." And there was a shared understanding, an understanding that dreams are just dreams until they make them more. If she could do this terrifying thing, all for the rest of her deepest wishes to come true, there was a new found certainty that anything scary could be done.

That she and JJ could do all the scary things the world could offer, even just as the awkward young adults they felt they had grown into. It was possible.

He took her hand more firmly in his, and counted down under his breath. There were hoots and hollers from the excited audience that had gathered below. Their friends filled with fear but also the fiercely spreading feeling of wonder and happiness that JJ and Y/n had found in one another.

With a deep breath, he led her off the edge, and in the moments that came before the cool water surrounded them, they swore they were flying. That they were living like nobody had ever lived before. They were seven again, then thirteen, and then back to where they found themselves now, flickering through the past as they came down.

It was only one of a thousand promised leaps, and Y/n didn’t feel any fear as the water poured into her ears.

Because when they surfaced, there he was, his hair wet and his smile wide. His hands clasped in hers, holding her arms over her head so high, her legs had to wrap around his waist.

“Again!” He shouted excitedly.

One promise kept, nine hundred ninety nine left to live.

#jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x you #jjmaybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jjmaybankangst #jjmaybank angst #maybankxyou #jj maybank x pogue!reader #maybank #pogue!reader #jj maybankfluff

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monimccoythings · 6 months ago

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Hello, Neighbor (C!Wolverine x reader)

I'm so sorry, as much as I adore Hugh Jackman the second I saw that Wolverine something inside me broke and I went feral. I needed to do this. I just love mutual pinning. I'm not specifying which Wolverine because it's a small spoiler (not entirely plot relevant!) but I think we all know who I'm talking about.

Slight NSFW themes, nothing big

X- You usually find him working on his motorbike in the garage below your shitty apartment complex, a cigar in his mouth, and dressed in a thin white tank top that clung to his sweaty and impossibly muscled body like a second skin.

X-Not gonna lie, since the very first moment you laid eyes on your new neighbor you have had the hots for him. Who wouldn't??

X-He was the quiet type. Reserved, with a permanent scowl that seemed to drive away anyone who crossed his path. You understood, maybe he valued his privacy. But that didn't mean you weren't going to be as kind as you could everytime you two met.

X-Easier said than done. It was hard to form a coherent thought let alone two sentences when he was in front of you in a leather jacket whose seams were about to burst from the inmense pressure his bulging biceps were submitting them.

X-You saw the corner of his mouth twitch upwards at your antics. Gosh, now he must think you're an idiot. Why wouldn't earth swallow you up once and for all and end your misery??

X-Still, no matter how much you embarrassed yourself you still came for more. Even if it left your heart nearly bursting out of your chest and your insides twisted in knots. It was all worth it just to see his frown loosen.

X-One day, he even dared to show a small smile. And you, being the current monarch of kindness and stupidity, thought it would be a great idea to tell mr. 'dark and broody' that he had a nice smile. He immediately tensed and mumbled some excuse to quickly retreat to his apartment, leaving you alone in a hall that stank of mold and booze.

X- As you dejectedly made your way towards the apartment, you mentally kicked yourself for stepping over his limits. Who were you kidding? That man could have a supermodel every night if he wanted to, of course he wouldn't have any interest in you. He was just being polite. And now you have ruined it. Way to go, Y/N.

────────────────────────────────────────────

X- Fuck. Shit. God fucking damnit. What was that? One compliment and he already turns into a fucking lovesick mutt. He needed a fucking drink.

X- The cold bitter taste of the beer, helped cool the burning fire inside him. He shouldn't have allowed it to go that far. Not with you.

X- He could argue that he barely knew you at all and he had to be careful, but he would be a lying bastard, wouldn't he?

X- When he saw you for the first time, absentmindedly looking through your mail, the animal inside him riled against the bars of his cage, demanding to consume you and possess you. It was overwhelming.

X- He had memorized everything about you: your routine, the music you liked based on what his sensitive ears heard, the way the corner of your eyes crumpled when you smiled, your scent, the sound of your voice, your dressing patterns...

X- He knew each time you went out and each time you brought a man with you. He hated every single one of them, he watched from afar with clenched fists and foam in the corners of his mouth, and desired nothing more than to rip those men to shreds with his claws.

X- He knew when you touched yourself, how poignant and musky your scent became, nearly driving him insane. How husky and soft your voice sounded when you moaned. Sometimes he found himself wishing it was his name you were calling in short breaths, sometimes he wished he was the one making you sigh in pleasure.

X- He was a dangerous man, unstable, full of rage and trauma, with many enemies who would do anything to get back at him. And besides, he was still hurting over Jean, he doubted he could open his heart to anybody else that wasn't that redhead. It was better this way.

X- So he vented his frustrations in alcohol, one night stands and bar fights. Claws unfolding when the treacherous thought of your delicate face came to mind. He had given you thousands of reasons to turn away from him, like the others.

X- Yet, there you were... Always with a smile, always with a nice word for him. If only you knew what he was, what he did, would you run away from him?

X- He couldn't afford this. This couldn't be for him, the closer you got the more dangerous it would be. This itch inside him that wouldn't let you go entirely was urging him to go across the hall and pound on your door until there were no more barriers between you two.

X-However, he knew, that the second he set foot on that corridor, all of his self control and restrain would be thrown out of the window. Even so, he still opened the door of his apartment.

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #james logan howlett #logan #logan x reader #logan x men #logan howlett #had to write this in less than 30 minutes #the urge was too strong #x reader

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thesophiewhit · 3 months ago

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PHONING FAUST -- A Sapphic Novel of Demonic Contracts, Demisexuality, and Yearning by me! A cool queer author ~

Are you LGBT+ or BIPOC or just REALLY LOVE BOOKS? Interested in being an ARC reader and reading a book and helping a fellow queer indie author out? (Pretty please? -- ARC links all the way at the bottom of this post (beneath the rainbow banner) for those who like Sapphic demon x human angst books ~)

AND LOOK AT THE CHARACTER ART OF MEMPHIS (BADASS DEMON) AND DIAN (HUMAN) BY MY ARTIST FRIEND SNAX

https://linktr.ee/artsnaxk

ABOUT ME

Demisexual?? Queer? Nonbinary? All these were magical words to me until it hit...

Oh-- that's me.

It took me a while to come out as queer, longer to come out as nonbinary, and then some more time to reconcile all this with being a mixed Indonesian kid. A dash of mental health, a sprig of figuring out asexuality and neurodivergence. But atop all that? One thing has been constant.

I've always been a writer.

That's some live footage of me summoning some forces to reign my characters in from being feral.

WHY I WROTE PHONING FAUST

Well, well, well, after years of battling imposter's syndrome, I did it. I wrote another book! It's called PHONING FAUST and it's getting published with queer indie publishing company @ninestarpress-blog because they're all cool and LGBT+ and super talented!

Why did I write PHONING FAUST?

What is... a Faust?

A Faustian bargain is what's popularly known as the devil's bargain. A usually losing situation or a trick where the devil tricks someone out of their soul in exchange for ULTIMATE POWER!

I rewrote Faust to be Sapphic as can be. It stars a mixed Indonesian lesbian named Dian Faust who battles depression tooth and nail and ends up calling a mental health crisis hotline. Bc... she's lonely.

PAUSE-- and this is a horror comedy. Comedy. COMEDY-- you might say?

WHY? HOW? Sounds sad and depressing, right?

WHAT'S FAUST?

Well... in the original retelling version of Goethe's Faust (who retold it from folklore etc etc) the main character of Dr. Faustus accidentally summons the devil or something when he too is about to consider the meaning of life and it gets sad bc he doesn't see one so he makes the devil's bargain FOR ULTIMATE POWER. Or something.

But in my version-- it's based off my experiences as a queer person. Before I had community. Before I understood and accepted myself-- I had a rough time. For a whole bunch of factors outside of that-- I didn't feel like my life was in a good place. And even worse-- I felt isolated.

THE PLOT

I didn't want to bother my friends with my problems. So-- I'd call the Trevor Project or a crisis hotline just to have somebody to talk to. In the same way-- Dian Faust is struggling with depression in the story I write. So she calls a hotline like the Trevor Project just to not be alone.

And guess who she finds?

A super hot genderfluid devil called MEMPHIS, short for Mephistopheles. A pierced and tatted punk rocker who has an interest for telling tall tales and serving Dian Faust's every wish and command! (No, not like that!)

Because Dian Faust, like me, is a mixed Indonesian kid trying to figure out what it means to be queer AND demisexual (finding attraction only after really getting to emotionally connect with someone and feeling, as I explain in the book, a lack of that before then for anyone). And she's figuring plenty out--- including how to save her immortal soul and her feelings for a certain genderfluid demon but if you want to know more-- YOU CAN BUT YOU HAVE TO SCROLL TO THE END OF THIS POST TO FIND OUT !

I wrote this book PHONING FAUST (coming out in 2025 sometime with NineStar Press btw. I have these books CATCH LILI TOO and WAKE THE DEAD also starring Sapphic demiace MCs if it's helpful while you wait!

I WROTE MORE QUEER BOOKS (if interested)! (ARC SIGN UP LINK IS STILL BELOW THIS ONE THO! > FOLLOW THE RAINBOW !!)

MY OTHER QUEER BOOKS: https://sophiawhittemore.com/books/ ) <3 <3 <3

I wrote PHONING FAUST (train of thought, sorry, that's the neurodivergence) because I wanted people to feel less alone.

I was, like Dian Faust and like a lot of people, a queer person who felt like I was on an island unto myself. I didn't know who to turn to-- so I turned to no one. By reaching out to hotlines (no hot devils unfortunately), I managed to get the help I needed to avoid making rash decisions-- to get the help I needed to get better. To take that first step.

PHONING FAUST is a novel that raises the importance of mental health and finding community, and most importantly, not giving up. As Dian Faust says in my upcoming book...

There are stars out there-- I had only to see it.

***

🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈

🌈🌈🌈🌈ARC LINK SIGN UPS HERE 🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈

ARC LINK SIGN UPS IN LINKTREE <3

Want to be an ARC reader for this queer book starring a demisexual Sapphic couple and BIPOC cast?

***

Hmmm, demon contracts...now where might young 2010 emo me have heard that before... ? ?

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sweetyluvs · 2 years ago

Note

27 with doctor! abby au please 🙏!!

𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞

abby anderson x fem! reader - drabble

sorry this literally took me a millennium.. i kept getting it wrong and having to rewrite 😭 .

anon left a second note, it read: “same anon who requested 27 with doctor abby! i forgot to add i want angst with fluff at the end if possible. thanks:)”

tags - angsty 🥀, mentions of light loneliness, relationship problems.. fluff at the end!!!

Abby having late night shifts was nothing knew.

She was a surgeon, staying late was apart of her job. but sometimes you wished it wasn’t.

she always came back extremely exhausted, only having the strength to mutter a few ‘thank you’s’ when she eats the food you made her before she goes to sleep. resting all night and getting up at the crack of dawn. You barely see her, and when you do, it’s not for long.

you do miss her, you miss really being around her and having her eyes and attention and love on you, but with her job… it wasn’t that simple. you had your own job, yeah, you were the owner of a small bakery downtown. but you ran that business, you had employees and assistant managers to cover for when you couldn’t make it, and abby didn’t.

you sigh deeply, shutting your eyes upon the refreshing feeling of the cold air flushing out your lungs. Abby was most likely working another late shift at the Hospital. No surprise, you loved her, and her job, but she’d said she would be back by 6:30 to have the promised dinner you were thrilled to make. you’d been going on about it for weeks, asking when she would swear to be free, and she had pinky swore that this wednesday— today— would be perfect.

but, here you sat. alone at the table, your plate empty as the one across from you was full, the once warm food now cold. You weren’t angry, no, you understood. Obviously, she’d come back if she could, obviously she’d stay with you if she could. but she couldn’t. being a doctor was hard, and you understood.

You stood up, taking your plate and utensils with you to the sink. overlooking all the dishes you’d dirtied to try and perfect this dish for her. You rinsed your dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, going to gather the other ones and wash them, putting the plates, bowls, spoons and such in the washer. Your thoughts went back to the day you’d told her. she walked through the door at her usual retuning time, smiling at you when you ran up to her for a hug. You’d asked her the usuals; ‘how was your day?’ ‘anything exciting happen?’ ‘was dina as smart as she usually is?’ ‘were jesse and ellie as weird as usual?’ she’d laughed at your dumb questions, answering them as she took off her shoes and placed down her bag, walking with you to the kitchen. then, you be brought it up.

“abs, i found this super cool, almost gourmet recipe, and i thought i could make it for us to have for dinner on a night that works for you.” you offered, watching as she practically inhaled the spaghetti and meatballs you’d made for dinner. She chewed for a moment, smiling at your words. she swallowed, looking at you. “that sounds great, baby. what is it?”

“can’t tell ya! have to kill ya.” you teased, leaning on the counter and grinning at her eye roll. “okay, whatver.”

“what day works for you? i want you to actually have it free so you don’t miss the freshness of the food.” you inquired, watching as she squinted her eyes in thought. “next wednesday. some construction is going on at the hospital and me and a few others are being let of early.. around 6:30, so that’s perfect.” she replied, twisting her spoon to gather some noodles. you beamed, leaned closer “you pinky swear?.”

“i pinky swear.”

you bit your bottom lip, gnawing at the now raw flesh at the reminiscence of the memory. You always tried to be open, not upset— but you were hurt. You hadn’t actually, really had dinner with her for months.

it wasn’t her fault. you’d told yourself, knowing it wasn’t. You didn’t want to take her work schedule to heart.. but something inside you cracked every time she broke a promise. You huffed angrily, brows furrowing harshly as you aggressively scrubbed the pan you’d used. the dish had took you most of the day, calling ahead to your employees yesterday to let them know you wouldn’t be there, you spent seven hours perfecting this recipe.

even the name of the dish took you time to read. ‘Prosciutto-Wrapped Pork Tenderloin with Crispy Sage, a side of Salade Niçoise (from france) and a side dish of duchess potatoes.’

you knew abby would fall to her knees from joy upon hearing those food titles. she’d love to have it with you, and that’s why you made it. so she’d love it. but she’s not here to have it with you like she said.

before you knew it, the kitchen was clean. stepping to the dinner table, you scooped up her plate of food and nicely wrapped it in plastic wrap. taking a piece of paper from the notepad on the fridge and writing her a small note. You weren’t trying to be rude, in fact, you tried everything in you to he as kind as possible— but after being bailed on four times in the past three months, you were at the edge of a line. you put the paper on the plate, leaving it on the counter for her alongside some water before storming off to your shared bedroom— barely, shared bedroom. you made it, cleaned it, kept it tidy, rearranged it, etcetera.

tearing off your nice shirt, you tossed it to the floor. usually, you’d wear one of abby’s shirts during her night shifts, the lingering smell bringing you comfort— but now, the thought of her made you internally irk.

you took a shirt from your drawer , tossing it over your head and shoulders, sliding it on. You didn’t same with your pants, taking off the nice linen fabric and fuming as you put on crappy old shorts.

You basically threw yourself into bed, putting a pillow between your side, and abbys side of the bed. hoping she’d get the message. i mean, it’s not like she’ll have the time to talk to you about it tomorrow anyways, right?

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

abby sigh as the door to your shared apartment opened, her hand pulling out the key she’d used to unlock it. you don’t usually lock the door.

She knew she’d fucked up.

you’d been so excited for this, chatting about it and reminding her to not be late. and she was late. four hours late.

Abbys dropped her bag by the door as she usually does, sliding off her work shoes and sliding on her slippers before walking to the kitchen.

the lights were out, it was cleaned nicely. her eyes met a plate on the white marble counter, a lazily folded piece of paper on top.

She smiled lightly, knowing you’d be the kind to leave her a note. she reached for it, unfolding it.

“Hope the construction workers weren’t in your way. Enjoy.” abby’s smile fell, guilt flooded her every atom at the words. fuck.

she knew you’d be upset, she doesn’t know what she was expecting— she’d bailed on you four times, and she swore to be on time this one. but, she wasn’t.

Abby was getting ready to head out at 6:25 to be able to make it home early, the biggest grin tugged at her lips as she told all her co-workers about the meal you were preparing.

she was about to leave when an emergency was called in. It was bad, but she’d seen worse. this poor girls bone was completely shattered, a bad case of compartment syndrome. unluckily, her and mel were the only two true professionals still clocked in, leading to a four and a half hour long surgery.

by the time abby got out of the hospital, she basically ran to her car and sped home— praying that by some miracle you were still awake and waiting for her.

you weren’t.

She put the note down, eyes landing on the plate of food you’d left her.

it was beautiful.

the potatoes shaped perfectly, the prosciutto-wrapped tenderloin looked amazing; cooked to perfection, the salad beside it was also stunning.

Each course of the meal was placed individually and carefully on her plate. Abby’s stomach fell with guilt upon imagining you sitting alone, eating your meal without her.

Abby was mad at herself. not because of this single instance, but because she feels as if she’s choosing her career over you— and she would never, ever do such a thing.

Her life revolves around you, so much.. she’d been planning a little something with a ring.

but for some terrifying reason, she felt that you would refuse. why would you marry someone who you’d never be around? nausea ate at her stomach due to the thought, hoping it was only her crazy nighttime, overworked imagination.

Abby unwrapped the food, putting it in the microwave for a minute. You weren’t anywhere in sight, and so she assumed you’d gone to sleep. alone. again.

“fuck..” she murmured, regret running through her veins. She leaned on the counter, her muscular figure easily keeping her upright.

you were the love of her life— her light in the darkness, her jam to her bread, her peanut butter to her jelly— without you, she doesn’t know where she’d be, and thanks to her stupid work schedule, she’s beginning to think that’s starting to happen.

the timer went off, a loud beep ripping her from her thoughts. “oh shit— shh, shh— loud ass microwave.” she complained, taking out the food. The potatoes were now soft, the salad unfortunately warm do to being in the heat, but the rest of the meal was good temperature. Abby got a fork, quickly snagging a bite of the tenderloin. It was even better than you swore it would be. The juice of the meat flooded her mouth like the sea to the shore, accompanied with the small amount of potatoes that gathered on her fork; they were magnificent.

Abby had inhaled the meal, it being gone in a matter of inhuman minutes. She rinsed her dish, going to load it in the dishwasher— but seeing that you had ran it. she frown. you always made sure to never do that, claiming you ‘wanted to get the love she deserves, and love is definitely not having to do your own dish.’

she cleaned her dishes and walked across the house and down the hall to your shared bedroom, pushing the door open she saw you. laying on your side, hair lightly messy as it always was when you slept (she loved it.) and.. a pillow between your side and her side. she wondered what else she’d missed that you’d done.

Abby striped her pants, throwing on some sweats and a hoodie, sliding in bed beside you. She gripped the pillow and threw it so hard she was surprised it didn’t pop, and wrapped her ams around your wait.

you shuffled, grabbing her hand before it could do a full 360 and ripped it off you, harshly turning your back to her.

“babe,” she whispered softly, sadness coating her vocals.

you were reluctant, eyes snapped shut even though she knows your awake.

“I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i really tried to be here, something unexpected came up, i swear i would have had been here.”

your silence had her itching at her skin.

“please say something.” she pleaded, her frown only deepening.

“whatever you say, abigail.”

abby grabbed the top of her head, ‘fuck’ running in her mind a thousand miles per hour. she really was in deep shit.

“i’m sorry, y/n, i don’t even think sorry can describe how sorry i am— i just, i wanted do come back, i couldn’t though. i couldn’t just leave the hospital, they needed me.” you clenched your jaw. her points were decent, great even— but you were petty.

“i’m sure they did.”

your little-word replies had abby at edge of her seat, suspense and fear building up.

“that’s all? nothing else?” she poked, confusion flooding her, anger starting to appear as well.

“yeah.”

she scoffed, sitting against the headboard. “You don’t have anything else to say? at all? i came back, yeah, i was late and i’m sorry, but—

“late?” you bit back, interrupting her. “you’ve bailed on me four times for dinner. You’ve always put your job before me, you’ve always had more time for your career— is this even working?”

those words were the ones abby feared the most. When you two began dating, she had told you about her passion, and where she worked. you found it fascinating, understanding completely. but, that was also when she used to spend genuine time with you.

“ i love you abby, i really do— but i can’t be with someone who puts a career before a person. I support your passions, and i wish nothing but the best for you, but I don’t want to be stood up by the person i’m dating anymore. fuck, abby, i took work off today to spend seven fucking hours making a meal you couldn’t even text me to say you couldn’t even show up for!” before you knew it, you’d sat up and looked at her, voice raising in a way she’d never heard.

“i know its not your choice, but you could at least find five fucking seconds to reply to my text.”

guild flooded her like a tsunami once again, a frown growing at the look on your face.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered out, watching as you sigh deeply.

“Don’t apologize, abby. it’s past that.” your reply scared her, fearing the worst; a break up. were you going to break up with her? were you going to leave her behind? she didn’t know, and she didn’t want to find out.

“how can i make it up to you?”

“i don’t even know if you can do that anymore.” you turned away, laying on your side, the pillow you’d somehow slipped between you both felt like a rock wall, each side of the bed you slept on cold; missing one another’s warmth.

abby stayed silent, internally scolding herself for being such a bad girlfriend and, frankly, not trying harder to be better.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you woke up with a sore neck, probably from sleeping in a way you never do.

you didn’t need to look over to abby’s side of the bed to know she was gone. sitting up, you crack your once resting bones and stand up. Shuffling on your slippers, you walk to your bedroom door, twisting the cold handle and walking out.

Every morning you wake up after abby, she always kisses you goodbye before she leaves (or so she claims to.), grabs a quick bite to eat from the fridge and you are left to make breakfast for yourself. it was second nature, to wake up and immediately crack and egg or two.

but, something was off. It smelled almost.. good in the house. you ignored it, labeling it as your desperate imagination.

Your feet hobbled across the house, yawning deeply and shutting the bathroom door. looking in the mirror, you grimace. the eye bags on your face were not your strong suite, you noted.

quickly rinsing off your sleep, you brush your teeth along with your hair. each and every yawning that stole itself from your lips reminded you how much you needed your coffee. rubbing your eyes you opened the bathroom door and began your journey to the kitchen.

when you round the familiar corner, what you hadn’t expected was to see Abby in the room.

your eyes flew wide, her blonde hair was still down from sleeping, she had her glasses on and was hovering over the stove.

brows furrowing, you stepped forward. “aren’t you supposed to be at work? isn’t thursday one of the most important ones?” you genuinely ask, catching her off guard attention, her head snapping up.

the big, sweet smile that encased her beautiful lips made you feel bad for your harshness the previous night. She pushed her arms off the counter, fixing something by the stove quickly before walking over to the bar, pulling out the two chairs and revealing two sets of plates.

“Yeah— but it’s not as important as you.” Abby affirmed, a light pink coating her cheeks. You wanted to stay angry, to stay mad at her lies and broken promises. But, your ice heart thawed quickly, revealing the warmth you still posses for her.

“abby.. you didn’t have to. I know i was harsh last night but— it’s your passion, i didn’t.. actually expect you to not go.” you confessed, walking to her cautiously, as if she’d vanish from existence.

she gave you a small smile, “I know. but, i would rather be with you. I love you way more than any hobby.” Her words were the validation you’ve been craving all these months, the words you’ve been seeking to hear. You instantly complied.

“i’m glad to hear that.” you laughed, approaching her and gingerly placing a kiss to her cheek as you sat at your chair she pointed to.

“always.”

she rushed back to the stove, flipping over whatever had been on their previously before motioning for you to give her your plate. you obliged, handing it to her.

“I love you, baby. I always will and.. even though i’m not a baker, i tried to make you those pancakes you like so much.” oh did her words make you fall for her all over again. “you didn’t have to, abs.” you grinned, ear to ear. something abby hadn’t seen you do since.. since a while.

“i did. i hope you like them.” she placed the plate in front of you, beautiful, fluffy pancakes alongside fresh bacon and eggs with syrup drizzled over them placed nicely on the dish.

“wow! abby, you might want to reconsider your career and come work for me.” you joked, smiling wildly at the wholehearted laugh she let out.

“who knows, maybe i will.”

you rolled your eyes, cutting a piece of the pancake and dipping it in the puddled syrup.

your eyes widened, “mhm!” you expressed, eyes shutting in satisfaction.

although abby was a very high ranked doctor, she was still nervous to get her professional baker girlfriends opinion on first time pancakes.

“Abigail, you are a natural.”

“only for you, babe.”

she put food on her own plate, turning off the stove and coming to sit beside you.

“I’m going to call my supervisor and ask for some more free hours from now on. So i can start to have breakfast and dinner with you. and maybe a couple free days, too.” abby announced, causing your heart to beat happily.

“that makes me so unbelievably happy, abby. you deserve it.”

you kissed her cheek, syrup sticking from your lips to her skin. you laughed, and she did too.

“I love you. more than anything.” you said, chewing softly. she wiped some food from your face, a loving smile tracing her features.

“i love you more.”

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