#they wanted some help and guidance in their life so i did what felt right and adjusted the spread to fit what was needed
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Playground Love
ೀ older!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader
Tags: hurt/comfort, age gap (unspecified but reader is an adult), a lot of self doubt, talks about mommy and daddy issues, pet names (angel, princess, sweetheart).
W/C: 1.0k
A/N: studying? who is that? Anyways, this was supposed to be a cute ‘sitting on his lap would fix me’ but I got hit by existential crisis at 2am so angst.
"Wow, dating an older guy? That's so sophisticated!"
“Are you sure about this? Don’t you think there’s a reason why no one his age is dating him?”
"You get to date someone older? That's not fair! All I get are immature guys my age."
"Darling, I know you're an adult now, but dating someone significantly older... it just worries me. Are you sure you're on the same page?"
I love him.
At every reaction, you find yourself repeating the same phrase in your mind. It was a simple truth that anchored you amidst the swirl of opinions and doubts. Every concern, every envy—you faced them all with the same unwavering declaration.
But do you really love him?
The question lingered like a shadow, casting doubt on the certainty you had clung to so desperately. You couldn't shake the nagging feeling that perhaps you were merely caught up in the allure of dating someone older, mistaking infatuation for love. Or was it that you longed for attention from an older guy who could fill the void your absent father left?
You craved the paternal presence you had been denied, and in him, you found echoes of the guidance and affection you had longed for.
"Dating someone older? Isn't that a bit... strange?"
"Why? Age is just a number, right?"
"Yeah, but... do you really think you're at the same stage in life?"
Oh, how naively optimistic you were.
Perhaps you have been too quick to dismiss your loved one’s concerns, too eager to embrace the illusion of love in the arms of someone—his arms—who offered the fleeting promise of stability and security.
“But he makes me feel loved and safe,”
“Does he?”
Was your love truly built to withstand the test of time, or was it merely a fleeting illusion, destined to crumble beneath the weight of your differences?
“Darling, can we talk for a moment?”
“Sure, Ma. What’s on your mind?”
"Well, I couldn't help but notice... you seem quite taken with this new guy you're seeing."
"Oh, you mean Leon? Yeah, we've been spending some time together."
"He's... older, isn't he?"
"Um, yeah, he is."
"I see... darling, I just want to make sure you're being careful. Dating someone older can bring its own set of challenges."
"I know, Ma. But he's different. He understands me in a way no one else does."
"I'm sure he does, dear…but promise me you'll take things slow and really get to know him before things get too serious."
"I promise, Mama.”
You've broken many promises with your mama, but why did this one hurt? Is it because you partially blame her for shaping you the way you are? Is it because she married your father? Maybe she would have lived a happier life if it weren't for him, if only.
But you thanked her, both her and him, for the lesson learned, for the wisdom imparted, for the love that had always been there, and for helping you recognise the kind of partner to avoid.
You stood before the polished wooden door of Leon’s home office, your hand hovering in uncertainty over the ornate doorknob. Each second felt like an eternity as you battled with the torrent of doubts and fears that raged within you.
You needed him, wanted him to hold you, and tell you that everything would be fine.
But what if he couldn’t understand your doubts? What if your confession shattered the fragile illusion of your love?
With a steady breath, you pushed aside your apprehensions and grasped the doorknob, steeling yourself for the conversation that lay ahead.
“What’s up, sweetheart?” His voice, gruff yet soft and reassuring, always managed to send shivers down your spine, freezing you in place. You couldn’t find the words to speak, and your throat suddenly dried.
Sensing your hesitation, he beckoned you closer with a gentle smile. You could see the experiences he went through, the complexities of adulthood etched into the lines that creased his weathered face.
“Come here, angel. Sit on my lap while I work.”
You obeyed, crossing the threshold into his office, your feet padding on the wooden floor as you made your way to him. Settling onto his lap, your linen dress pooled around you, the fabric soft against your skin. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you close, his rough touch sent warmth flooding through your veins.
You inhaled his scent, a mixture of citrus and wood, with a hint of something familiar: whisky. You thought he quit. Ready to question him, you opened your mouth, but he stopped you before you could question him.
“Don’t worry your pretty head, princess. I only drank a glass, I promised. I’m just a bit stressed.”
“Mm, okay,” you replied, pushing aside your concerns for the moment as you melted into the warmth of his embrace.
You found solace in the familiar embrace of Leon's arms, the weight of your doubts momentarily forgotten as you leaned into his chest, burying your face against him. A few of his buttons were undone, allowing the soft hairs on his chest to brush against your face.
"Is everything alright, angel?" Leon's voice, soft and concerned, pulled you back to the present moment.
"Yeah, everything's fine. I just want to stay like this, with you," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.
His arms tightened around you, drawing you closer, as if he could sense the hesitation in your voice. "Me too, princess. Me too," his stubble pricked your forehead as he murmured against them.
Oh, how weak you were. His voice and touch alone melted you into a puddle, and all your problems seemed to vanish in his embrace. Your mama wouldn’t be happy with how you turned out; she wished that you would never let a man make you weak like she was.
Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to sink deeper into his embrace, letting go of the weight of your doubts and worries. In this moment, all that mattered was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.
Perhaps one day, when the time was right, you would find the courage to open up to him about your inner struggles. Until then, you cherished this moment, clawing in the warmth of his love.
Pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, Leon whispered softly, "I love you, angel.”
“I love you, too, Leon, always,” you replied. The words were a vow of unwavering devotion and love…was it really?
All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does, and that is his.
- Oscar Wilde
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy angst#leon kennedy fluff#resident evil 6 leon#death island leon#infinite darkness leon#damnation leon#vendetta leon#dividers by fairytopea#✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚
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okay so this is based off a dream that I had so I apologize in advance if this doesn't fully make sense.
but canine hybrid!price who's retired. he's served pretty long, and when he finally retired he was reluctant. though he didn't have much of a choice because his hearing had been slowly deteriorating over the past years. don't get him wrong he can still hear better than the average human, but his ears are no where as good as they used to be. it's not till he retires that he meets you. I think that you would be the one to point out his hearing, because he's always used to being around loud things that when you guys are watching a movie or something he has it on nearly the loudest volume possible.
once he finds out he looks into how to better take of his ears, which you help with. unknowingly, price's ears are very sensitive, and when you gently stroke them for the first time it sends a shiver down his spine instant boner. it's something that you note for later. but once you get into a rhythm and his ears are about as healthy as can be, you start to incorporate them into sex. whispering praises in his ear, gently stroke them, even just softly blow them, etc.
OH! and just imagine dressing up and going on a date with price at a restaurant, and when you sit down and get further into the dinner you start whispering absolutely filthy things you wanna do to him, just quiet enough that only price would be able to hear. if he walks out the restaurant with a boner and flushed in the face, no one says anything.
Thinking about Price who really isn’t that upset about going into retirement. What upsets him the most is the loneliness that comes with it
Once upon a time Price had found a mate. Back then he thought that the relationship would last forever. He had even promised himself that if he were to go into retirement he’d do it with them but they have long passed away, leaving him heartbroken and lonely.
Work had been his way to cope with the sorrow but now that he was retired he felt cornered. He had nothing but his loss to focus on. On top of that he was too old to find someone to fill the spot, not that he was thinking about finding a new mate anyway.
Needless to say Price had fallen into depression so much so 141 had forced him out the house and into a bar where he’d met you, another canine hybrid, one who’s much younger than him, and who had for whatever reason taken interest in him
You approached him, offered to buy him a drink, talked for a while before exchanging numbers and promising to meet up another time.
Price didn’t want to do it at first, wasn’t looking for a relationship at all. But he thought that it would do him good to make a new friend.
And Price had been right. He now had someone who frequently got him out of the house. Sometimes the two of you went to bars and sometimes you opted to go to parks.
Sometimes you didn’t leave the house at all. Instead you’d visit him with take out in hand. Sometimes you’d stroll into his kitchen and make him home cooked dinner, before putting on some movie to watch (something he appreciated a lot)
And it was nice being friends with a fellow canine hybrid because not only did you understand him on a personal level, but he could also offer you some guidance and advice, and for the first time since his retirement Price felt useful again.
However time continued to pass and his hearing loss got worse, his vision was even starting to blur and for the first time in his life Price needed the help of someone to manage his day to day task but he couldn’t get himself to ask.
Luckily for him you could tell he was struggling with something. You had first noticed it during your movie nights when he’d turn the volume up to the highest setting. You didn’t mind, thought that, like the typical canine, he enjoyed to be surrounded by sounds but it was excessive even for a canine hybrid.
But then you noticed how he’d rarely respond when you greeted him at the door, back turned to you while focusing on whatever task he was doing in the moment.
One time when the two of you were at the store you had told Price that you were going to go to another isle to look for something but he hadn’t heard you at all, looked around and saw you were gone and went into full panic mode.
You spent the rest of the day comforting him, reassuring him while he told you about the issue he’s been tackling lately.
As a canine hybrid yourself, you could understand that he was struggling, so you did everything in your power to help him out.
In one of the articles you read it said that training yourself to locate sounds would help improve your hearing. So you’d take him out in fields, running around in your full canine form and doing your best to identify the different type of sounds you were hearing.
He hadn’t wanted it at first, claimed that you can’t teach an old dog how to sit but he did it anyway, and even though he struggled a lot, you loved the way his face lit up every time he got a sound right.
Another tip was to take good care of the ears. Price would huff and roll his eyes every time you’d show up with a wash cloth and trimmers in hand but he’d let you do whatever you want, even feeling his face burn and mouth dry up at your tentative touch.
Something that wasn’t stated in the article but something you did anyway was that you offered to be his extra pair of ears. You had offered to help him out in his day to day tasks or even when out on hunts.
That offer had him speechless, frozen in place even, because it felt so intimate, more intimate than carrying your bite on his neck.
You had basically offered to be an extension of him and expected him to act normally.
See the two of you have grown much closer to the point where you might as well be courting him. However he still carried someone else’s mark on his neck. He was already claimed. But by offering this, you had basically said you were ready to take it further with him, despite everything.
Price hasn’t felt arousal in so long but when you have him pinned under your weight, while blowing onto his sensitive ears, he can feel blood pooling to the lower half of his body.
But it doesn’t stop there. When you notice just how sensitive they are, you lightly nip at them, hearing the whines and whimpers that escape his lips before he grinds down onto your clothed dick.
You even even yank on his ears, blunt nails digging into soft skin and leaving marks on it as you inch closer to your release, letting everyone know that even though he didn’t carry your scent or bite on his neck, he was yours anyway
#I wrote this in a fever induced haze i hppe it’s ok idk where this came from#alec answers#call of duty#john price x reader#john price x male reader#captain john price#john price#captain john price x male reader#captain john price x reader#dom male reader#top male reader#sub male character#bottom male character
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Hello, I hope you two are doing well! May I request “Orange Rose - experiencing constant as well as distracting thoughts of the other person” for Riddle? tysm I’ve been realizing how wonderful he is recently🥰🥰
Riddle Rosehearts:
Orange Rose - experiencing constant as well as distracting thoughts of the other person.
Riddle had never been more mortified in his life.
He felt like the blood had completely drained from his face, the red mark on his paper almost dashing his hopes of having a good day. To achieve a perfect score on his tests was everything; he didn’t believe himself to be the exact perfect being but he had studied for this, countless hours of memorizing to the point he knew the material like the back of his hand. This was a subject he excelled in (most were, but he enjoyed this one the most) and yet he was confronted with cold hard failure, the likes of which he had never seen.
Not just one point from perfection, but two entire points, a whole question with two parts answered incorrectly. He looked over his test countless times, reading through his text books to find where he might’ve strayed, before finally approaching his professor.
“Is everything okay, Riddle? You aren’t pushing yourself, are you?” He always pushed himself, but that wasn’t the point! He could handle pressure, he could handle a metric ton of work being thrown his way as well as countless responsibilities pushed on his shoulders, but this grade – it was a negative mark on his record, his future.
When he saw that question he knew exactly what had distracted him, the reason he had gotten the answer incorrect. You had been his partner for that particular project, spending hours of alone time as you did your research together. You were diligent but you had asked Riddle for guidance, knowing he was a person who was very specific about the way his ideas were presented, and he had been happy to help you figure out the best way to present your own ideas in your project. It hadn’t been all work, with some talk of desserts and his equestrian club mixed in, but Riddle had found himself enjoying that time spent together.
In fact he missed it, since the project had ended and there was no excuse to ask you to spend time with him any longer.
He knew he had gotten caught up in those thoughts, fumbling through the question quickly as he realized the ‘you’ in his head was distracting him. He wrote as fast as he could and in doing so had missed a specific word choice used in the question which entirely changed the meaning of it. He was used to dealing with tricks and being wary of language, his mother had taught him about the little details of linguistics, so he never would’ve missed it if he was in his right mind.
Riddle can’t hide his sour mood but thankfully, most of Heartslabyul stayed out of his way when they sensed something was wrong. He had never been more grateful to have an unapproachable resting face, wanting to simply lock himself away (though he could not, as there were still duties to attend and other students to look out for). When he finally had time to settle himself down he took out the test one last time, working himself up again about the less than perfect grade.
“Whoa!” Cater, who had innocently peered over Riddle’s shoulder to see what he was glaring at, was just as shocked as Riddle had been earlier than evening. “S-Sorry, I was just coming to let you know Trey is looking for you…”
“Hey, Riddle. Trein was asking me about you earlier—” Trey, the third musketeer and the straw that finally broke the camels back, came into the room a few seconds later, pausing when he saw Riddle’s clenched fist. He and Cater locked eyes, with Cater holding his hands up to signal he certainly wasn’t the reason Riddle was upset.
Neither third year knows what to say when they see the grade, and Riddle sighed, wishing to just be done with it. He moved the paper toward Trey who scrutinized it, reading the question, Riddle’s answer, before his eyes slowly drifted back to Riddle himself.
“This question… is quite simple for someone like you.” Cater felt like his lungs had collapsed, wondering how Trey had continued to exist if he was always so honest with Riddle. “Is there something on your mind?”
“I’m…not sure.” The fact he hadn’t exploded in that moment left Cater even more shocked, and he had to lean on a chair to keep his legs from folding underneath him. “I don’t believe I want to talk about it.”
“Maybe you should!” Cater tried to offer up helpfully, “You never know, maybe having a different angle can help clear your thoughts!”
“Exactly.” Trey agreed, pleased that Cater had backed him up. “Talk to us, and we’ll see if we can help.”
Riddle muttered your name once and it took the willpower of a thousand card soldiers to stop both Trey and Cater from laughing in shock at the admission. Trey had really thought Riddle would never spit it out but it seemed his own honest reaction had rubbed off on him, while Cater was still struggling to imagine Riddle with a crush.
Trey had never seen Riddle struggle to find words like he was now, his eyes downcast as he spoke quietly about the time you had spent together. Riddle had fun when you were together, fun, a word that he didn’t often use nor did he generally have the same definition as everyone else. To think that you evoked this kind of reaction from him, to the point he was dwelling on the time spent together and lamenting on how it had ceased was nothing short of a miracle in Trey’s eyes. He doesn’t voice it but he does believe this is the first crush Riddle has ever had, not remembering a single moment from their childhood where Riddle expressed interest like that in anyone.
“There doesn’t have to be a reason to hang, you know, but here we have unbirthday parties all the time! Why not try inviting them to one of those?” Riddle seemed to contemplate this, as it was something within his power. He would have to double check that none of the students had a birthday the following day, but if he played his cards right…
“Understood. Thank you for your advice.” Riddle stood without another word, exiting the room with his test in hand while Trey and Cater shared a look.
“Hopefully everything goes smoothly…”
“We should warn the first years. I have a feeling if anything goes wrong, the punishment might be worse than usual.”
#Twisted Wonderland#TWST#Twisted Wonderland Imagines#Twisted Wonderland x Reader#TWST Imagines#TWST x Reader#Riddle Rosehearts#Riddle Rosehearts x Reader#Scenario#Flower Prompts
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PAC: What type of main character are you?
Hi everyone! So, as we know, we are the main character of our own lives. This PAC is meant to get into the more specific details of what type of character you are. We'll be covering:
Your archetype
Your story
Two channelled songs
As well as some signs before the reading to ensure the message is for you. If you resonate with one or more signs, that is meant to be your reading. :)
Please remember your fate is not set in stone so your answers may change depending on the actions you take and will take if you please. Tarot is not a substitute for professional advice. The images I’ve used are not mine.
From left to right, Pile 1, 2 & 3.
Pile 1
Signs that this is for you: You may have an earth sign in your big three, specifically Taurus. If not, I'm sensing someone who wears a lot of Earth tones in their wardrobe and feels connected with nature. You may have a 4th house stellium. Your throat chakra may be blocked, meaning you have difficulty speaking up and standing up for yourself. If this is the case, then this is a wound you're meant to heal in this lifetime. You may listen to music to cope with your emotions because you have difficulty trying to make sense of all of it by yourself. Um, this is an odd message, but I just smelled ramen? Specifically, the smell of instant ramen? Someone here may be eating that right now, or maybe that's your go-to meal. You're also considered your group's ‘mom/dad/parental friend’.
Your cards: 3 of swords, The Lovers rx, 6 of Cups rx, Death, The Empress
Your archetype: The Caregiver
Your story: From a very young age, you’ve learned that the relationships you build with others aren’t meant to last. Your friends or family members from this time may not have tended to your emotional needs. Some of them may have even been narcissists, but the key message here is that they required you to give all of yourself, all the contents in your cup, as an incentive to make them stay in your life. You grow up thinking all relationships were meant to be like this. I just heard the word ‘transactional’ so maybe some of you who are well in your adulthood view your relationships to be more like a business transaction than a genuine relationship. You’ve set low standards because you feel that’s all your worth. Communicating boundaries may be difficult for you because you don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, because you feel you'd rather have this than nothing at all.
There’s a shift though. I just felt a surge of… quiet anger. It’s not the explosive, shouting-at-your-face type of anger, but it’s like a switch has just been flipped and you begin to realise you deserve more than you’re getting. You distance yourself from the people around you or you will soon. For some, I could even see this be a physical move. The point is that you become a bit of a hermit for a while. You take the time to finally get to know yourself on your own and give yourself the comfort you’ve been wanting so desperately from others, filling your own cup. If this is yet to happen to you, I got a strong message to look back to your childhood self for guidance—what would they have wanted for their older self? What jobs and projects did they see themselves achieving? What shows and music gave them comfort when they were lounging, or crying by themselves to self-sooth? Doing inner child work will help present you more than you think.
The future is bright with the Empress card at the end. You learn to love yourself and know your worth not because someone told you so, but because you took the time to define that yourself. You haven’t stopped caring for others, you’ve just learned to care for yourself first.
Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 1!
Your song: Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart by Ariana Grande and Clean by Taylor Swift (for some reason I’m sensing there may be some Taylor Swift fans in this pile)
Pile 2
Signs that this is for you: I did not get any strong hints on what sign you guys might be, but if I had to name one, I’d say Aquarius. The first thing I did see was height, so either you guys are really short or really tall. You also may be very physically attractive, like I got ‘pretty’ vibes from your pile. I also got ‘boyfriend’ vibes, but I mean that in a gender-neutral way. I feel more at ease using slang with your pile, so maybe most of you here are of a younger age group. Either way, I’m sensing the majority of you are in school, or some sort of higher education, and that your teachers/classmates may tease you about your handwriting because I just heard ‘chicken scratch’ lol. Some of you may say you’re nerds, and that your favourite subjects are STEM subjects. You may be a singer and have been told to have an angelic voice. Extra messages: You like and relate to Peter Parker, you proofread your essays so much you memorise them by accident, and you like baked goods because I just smelled a bakery for some reason?
Your cards: Queen of Swords, Page of Swords, Seven of Swords, Knight of Cups (extra clarifying card: Three of Cups), The Hierophant
Your archetype: The Hero turned Teacher
Your story: Your story starts when you’re in your teens which may be the age you are now. Your ambition is your drive, but it’s not for selfish reasons; you’ve got big dreams because you want to change the world in some way and give back to your community by possibly offering some sort of service. I think many people look up to you and how brilliant you are. It’s odd because I can almost see you from their point of view, and the admiration is so great for you and your potential it can come across as overwhelming. I say you’re a ‘hero’ with the good and bad in mind because while you deserve the recognition, I think you may feel a bit suffocated by it.
The borderline hero worship makes you feel uncomfortable because you may feel like you don’t deserve it, regardless of what people think. In your head, you recognise how much you don’t know, and you berate yourself for it, always criticising yourself saying ‘You can do better’. If you achieve something, you never have the time to celebrate it and look back on how far you’ve come because you’re always after the next goal. I just heard ‘It’s not enough’ and then ‘I’m not enough’ straight after. I feel on edge with your energy, like you’re rushing to prove yourself without realising you’ve already done so a million times over.
The turning point of your story can either be a dramatic or a quiet one, but for most of you I’m sensing you burn out without even realising it. Because of that you feel frustrated with yourself that you’re ‘slipping’ so you work yourself to the bone, which makes you ‘slip’ even more. I think the next phase of your life is going to require vulnerability coming from you where you admit you need help from the people you love, and this is going to feel so uncomfortable because I can tell you’re not used to asking for help at all. Your loved ones may confide in you too, telling you they were scared you were rushing towards success so much you were leaving them behind. Difficult conversations were or will be made, but that benefits you so much.
You reconnect with yourself and your loved ones, learning empathy and love along the way. This helps you refine your goals, and you’ll start asking yourself what you want. Your mind becomes sharper because of the boundaries you’ve put on yourself and for yourself. This makes people respect you more, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable anymore because you start respecting yourself. You grow from being a hero to a Sage/Teacher with a well-earned sense of wisdom your younger self didn’t even realise was a blind spot.
Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 2!
Your song: Show Me the Right by NEIL FRANCES and Radio Ga Ga by Queen
Pile 3
Signs that this is for you: The strongest energy I got from your pile was that you are a very spiritual person. Clairaudient abilities are strong with this pile, as well as claircognizance. You may identify as a witch or a practitioner and may even have a familiar. I’m also sensing you might literally be a cat person and that’s why you may have clicked on this reading, haha! Physically, I see very high contrast features. If you know what colour seasons are, you may be a True Winter, Dark Winter, or Dark Autumn. Your gaze is incredibly striking, almost intimidating. For astrology placements, I’m sensing a heavy emphasis on the water signs Pisces and Scorpio, or at least a heavy influence of the planets Pluto, Mars, and/or Neptune in your chart. You may also work with the fae and/or Hecate. This is a peculiar message to give, but your energy feels like when lightning strikes a large body of water, and despite having heavy water placements you might work with breath magick.
Your cards: 5 of Pentacles, The World rx, Page of Cups, Queen of Wands, Six of Wands
Your archetype: The Outlaw
Your story: Before I start, I want to say you’re similar to Pile 1 but not really. It feels like you and Pile 1 had similar upbringings, but your journey is different like you’re two sides of the same coin. Are you friends with someone like Pile 1? If not, I think you will in the future.
So, onto the reading. Your story starts with you feeling like the world is going against you, like they’ve shunned you out before you had any say in it. Your energy feels like smoke, and people mistook you for someone illusive when you were just more open to being yourself. You have a high intrapersonal intelligence so you accept that you are multi-faceted, but for some reason other people can’t. It feels like a ‘you against the world’ energy. I think people did this because they were scared by the fact they couldn’t control you, and that you can read everyone so well but for some reason, no one can read you.
That in turn made you more rebellious, more willing to push the boundaries and be different which I think made the people in your life angrier. At the start, you may have done it out of spite, but as you grow into yourself you realise, you’re doing this because you want to live your life honestly, and that it’s for your happiness at the end of the day. Eventually, anger evolves into sadness. You long or will long for someone to finally see you for who are in all the depths you see in others. You don’t advertise this feeling. Many people won’t notice the change in demeanour because they’ve got it in their head that you’re like this rogue nomad, but this won’t last forever.
Like magic, you meet someone or a group of people that just get you, and they come into your life at exactly the right time. Your spirit guides are being quiet about what that means, but for some of you it could be when you feel like you’re hanging by a thread, and that’s when these people finally come into your life. I think people will question this relationship/friendship because you two seem like polar opposites, with the other person/people being gentler and you being more headstrong, but what they don’t see is that this other person/group feels like they aren’t seen properly either. That’s why you two click.
You become a power duo/group. I could see that some of you may even work together on a business or a humanitarian cause. Your self-confidence grows bit by bit, and you regain the power you have over yourself you felt was too big for you to handle before. You could stand alone, but you realise you don’t want to anymore. You’ve never felt more at home.
Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 3!
Your song: Villain Of My Own Story by Unlike Pluto and The Greatest by Louis Tomlinson
#pick a card#pac#pick a pile#tarot#tarot reading#tarotblr#tarotcommunity#divination#spirituality#witchcraft#witchblr#witches of tumblr#main character#main character vibes
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you missed my heart - natalie scatorccio
summary – natalie almost kills the love of her life in a moment of fear (approx. 2.4k words)
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it was a lazy november day when natalie scatorccio confessed her love to you.
you sat in the cafeteria with her during lunch and she was visibly shaken up; an argument with her father, probably. she looked so tired, and you wished you could help her.
“you should go to the guidance counsellor about your parents, nat”, you had offered her, trying to exude as much hope as you could. but, natalie shook her head. she looked at you with her big sad hazel eyes. the eyebags that hid under them were heavy and practically screamed want - a want for happiness, a want for a restful sleep.
“it’s not that easy, (y/n)”, is all she said, voice barely a meek whisper.
“you need to try, nat. i’m sure they can do something,” she shook her head as you talked, but you kept suggesting, “get you away from them, call the police, anything.”
“i can’t because if i leave, my dad will kill me, and if he doesn’t kill me, he’ll kill my mom.”
her voice was firm, and you could hear annoyance welling up through her throat.
“then what can i do for you?”
“nothing,” she sighed, simply yet firmly. “i just can’t deal with this right now, i can’t deal with you right now.”
her eyebrows were pressed together, an annoyed knot between them. you felt offended, almost, but you also felt irritated towards your friend for being upset at you.
“i want to protect you”, you murmured after some time, and it seemed like something flicked in natalie.
“you can’t protect me, i can’t even protect me!”, she growled in annoyance, “ugh, just fuck off!”
and, then natalie scatorccio stormed off.
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you didn’t see her for the remainder of the school day. with every passing period, the knot in your stomach grew tighter and bigger and you were shaking by the time you came to soccer practice. you didn’t see her anywhere in the changing room, maybe she was already on the field warming up?
tying the laces of your cleats too tight, you wearily stood up off the bench and walked towards the exit of the locker room. your limbs felt heavy as they swung haphazardly by your side. lottie gave you a concerned look; one that told you she cared for you without expressing it. you smiled weakly at her, undertones of anxiety prominent on your face.
as the team lined up for their pre-practice announcements, jackie began to walk past everybody, taking count of who was around. then, she stopped in front of you, arms held behind her back in confidence. “(l/n), where’s scatorccio?”
you looked into her eyes with your own weary orbs and for a moment, her hardened exterior softened. “i… don’t know.”
the field went silent for a moment as thoughts whirred in jackie’s head, and before she could speak, somebody else did.
“she’s probably sucking a dick or doing drugs in a ditch!”, a haughty voice taunted a few spaces away from you. your head turned in slow motion as you met the eyes of the brawny girl. then, your vision went red.
“the fuck did you say?!”, you growled, storming over to her and grabbing a fistful of her jersey. she looked ready to recoil, but jackie put a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.
“steady, (y/n)! and you,” she pointed at the girl, “have some respect for your teammates!”
your eyes panned around the team noticing everybody’s hesitant silence and the girl smirked at you, watching you from her power high.
“fuck”, you seethed under your voice, “this. fuck all of you. get over yourselves.”
and then you stormed away from the field, increasing the distance between you and your teammates. only coach ben and misty called after you.
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the trek to natalie’s house was definitely a long one. it had been about an hour now, and you felt yourself shiver in your black hoodie. you were ill prepared for this walk, but then again, you didn’t expect to find yourself going to your best friend’s house at half past six in the evening when you woke up this morning. you felt worry well up in your heart as the sun slowly hid under the distant horizon and the temperatures dropped further. yet still, you continued to strut briskly.
once you arrived in the trailer park, you beelined towards your friend’s dwelling. you felt like a stranger in this section of town, prying eyes watching you through windows and cracks in the door. an elderly woman sat in a chair, failing to light her cigarette, cursing.
you eventually arrived at the door of the beaten-up trailer, hesitating for a moment. if natalie was in here, she probably didn’t want to see you – or more like, she probably didn’t want to see you here, in the most dangerous area in her life. but still, you puffed your chest up, and with a newfound confidence fuelled by concern, you knocked. once, twice, three times.
and then, the door was ripped open. a gruff, tired man stared at you. he reeked of alcohol and his face contorted into a vile mix of annoyance and hatred. “who the fuck are you? what do you want?”, he asked demandingly, almost spitting on you.
“i’m looking for natalie, is she here?”, you worriedly asked, suddenly losing all the confidence you had previously manifested.
he sighed and groaned, “that little whore is gone. she’s not fucking welcome here anymore. leave before i shoot your brains out, now!”
and then, he slammed the door in your face. the wind from the recoil blew your hair back a little, and you felt your legs grow wobbly from fear. you turned on your foot and walked around the corner to not be seen by him again. ‘where would natalie be,’ your brain wandered as you pondered hard about the whereabouts of your friend.
suddenly, you remembered the junkyard. it wasn’t far from here and you remember smoking there with natalie, van and travis. you began to walk there, but only a few steps into your journey, it began lashing rain. you grumbled, pulling your hood over your head, tucking your hair into it so it wouldn’t get wet. for your own good, you hoped she was there, because you really didn’t want to deal with a cold.
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natalie scatorccio leaned against a rusted car, swinging the pistol she stole from her father the night prior. she was so irritated, and decided to hang around the quietest place she knew of in order to recollect herself.
you wouldn’t understand her, ever. she couldn’t get help. her father would kill her if she tried, and her mother definitely wouldn’t save her. she had previous countless injuries to prove as such, and she grimaced from remembering the fear and pain she would feel for days after, threading lightly around her parents as she slipped out to go to school every morning. she remembered the threats her father gave and the worried looks her mother concealed.
the one time her mother had tried to protect natalie from her beast of a father, she had ended up beaten severely. natalie had to beg him to stop, and for a moment, she genuinely thought her mother was dead; all she ever did now is stare blankly at the tv, sleep, and drink. it’s like she was a puppet, just bending to her husband’s will.
natalie’s heart clenched, thinking about how she had lost her mother, and now she was losing you. she looked up towards the sky, feeling droplets against her face. she couldn’t tell if she was crying but she felt a ripping feeling in her chest and a pain well up in the back of her throat. she couldn’t stop thinking about the shock that etched itself onto your face when she had yelled at you earlier. you didn’t need somebody as damaged as her, you didn’t need that trouble in your life. her father would probably kill her before she could even tell you she loved you; either that, or she’d end up as fucked up as he was.
suddenly, natalie jumped from shock as she heard a rattling noise behind her. some rubbish fell off a pile and she heard the shuffle of a body. turning swiftly, she saw a hunched over black figure approaching her, and before natalie could process her shock, she aimed the gun at them.
but then, on reflex (and maybe a reaction to trauma), natalie pressed her finger on the trigger. following the gunshot sound that rung throughout the junkyard, natalie could only hear silence, and then a pained gasp. hold on – it sounded feminine.
she rushed to the collapsing figure as they fell on their side lifelessly, like a sack of potatoes. ripping the hood off their face, she felt her blood run cold when she saw none other than you. (y/n) (l/n). you gripped your shoulder with your hand, coughing hard, as crimson began to seep through your fingers.
“shit! (y/n)! what the fuck?”, natalie gasped as she cried, holding you, “what the fuck? what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu-“
you coughed again, snapping your friend out of her panicked spiral. natalie’s stomach filled with bile as she helped you strip the hoodie off, leaving you in your soccer jersey. you screamed in pain at the action, biting down on a sleeve. your shoulder was bloodied all the way to your chest, and natalie couldn’t identify where she had shot you.
“i-“, she wept, “i don’t know what to do. i didn’t mean to shoot you.”
your vision began to blur as natalie whimpered, and you reached a shaky hand out to touch her face.
“call misty.”
natalie’s warm tears dripped down your fingers, and the feeling revitalised you a little. her body was bent in a way that resembled a hurt animal as she bit down on her lip, body trembling. she squeezed your hand with more strength than you yourself could even muster up in that moment.
“call misty,” you repeated again, and something in natalie clicked as she awakened from her bleary mental turmoil.
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first, you heard voices, and then you opened your eyes. you were in misty’s living room, nestled up under blankets on her sofa. natalie and misty exchanged a few brief words before natalie turned to look at you. she looked exhausted and you could see smoky streaks of eyeliner on her cheeks. she noticed that you had woken up wiped her eyes, and then rushed to your side. she held your palm to her cheek, and you felt wetness.
you hissed in pain as you moved a hand up to rest it on the back of her head before talking sweetly yet tiredly, “hey gorgeous.”
you noticed misty smile in the corner of your eye before she left the room to give you two some space.
“i didn’t mean to, (y/n). you’re the last person i’d wanna hurt,” natalie whispered, voice trembling.
“i know nat, it’s okay.”
natalie hiccupped and cried, “it’s not okay though. i still hurt you, i nearly killed you. i love you. i’d never wanna hurt you like that, and i did.”
though natalie glossed over the confession, you heard every word of it; it sunk into you, and you felt your body grow heavier as heat rose to your cheeks.
“you love me?”, you repeated her words, sheepishly.
“i…”, she breathed for a moment, “i’ve loved you since the day i met you.”
“i love you too”, is all you said, looking into her eyes. they looked innocent in that moment, and you knew you could get lost in them for hours. natalie was full of complexities, and you wanted to unravel her troubles and see her smile.
“but, (y/n), i’m just too much trouble. my family is fucked up, and i’m fucked up too. i’d only hurt you”, she gasped out, not wanting to damage you further.
“i’m willing to deal with that, nat,” is all that you said, “we can get through it together.”
natalie looked surprised for a second as your words set in. her mouth was open in a small o shape, until you, with all the strength you could muster, pulled her into you.
she kissed you gently, not wanting to make your injury worse, and you were almost stiff due to the pain you felt, but you pushed through it, and pulled her even closer.
her lips tasted like salt and cigarettes, but you didn’t mind, because you loved her so much. you felt your heart swell in adoration as you pulled away, wiping her tears with a thumb.
for a moment, you studied each other’s eyes, until you heard a gasp behind you. misty covered her face. “(y/n), i know i owed you a favour, but that doesn’t mean i want to be a third wheel in my own house!”
the three of you burst into laughter and natalie helped you up. misty continued, “i stitched it up and tried to clean the cut as well as possible, but don’t do any rigorous activity for a few weeks. this means no soccer practice, got it?”, she pointed a finger against your chest, and you nodded. “also, pat dry after a shower, and constantly take painkillers, because it’s not going to heal easily.”
after thanking the yellowjackets’ equipment manager, natalie helped walk you home. she sat on your bed as you inspected the wound in your bedroom mirror. “looks gnarly, d’ya reckon i’ll have a sexy scar?”
natalie chuckled, awkwardly, hiding her face in shame a little.
“it’s fine, babe, i’m really not upset at you, i promise.” you said, suddenly holding her face in your hand, forcing her to look into your eyes.
she only smiled back at you, wearily. you both fell silent for a moment before she cleared her throat. “well, i guess i should… find somewhere to stay. goodnight, (y/n).”
but, then you grabbed her hand in yours. “hold on a sec. you can stay with me.”
natalie looked at you with wide eyes.
“you have nowhere to go, and besides, i’ll need someone to help me with my injury. i’m sure my parents won’t mind”, you smiled with a wink, voice like honey.
natalie pulled you in for a chaste kiss, pressing a hand on your lower back.
she literally missed your heart that day, but she shot right through it the moment you both fell in love.
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The scenes towards the end of the finale were like an intersection of multiple characters experiencing the loss of father figures, in different shades:
Luz's relationship to her late father took on a different form, after King's own father passed on and his glyph magic was gone for good. Manny gifting her the Azura books before his death, and Papa Titan offering her glyph magic before he too passed on, helped Luz find her place in the world and defeat Belos.
Apparently this scene is what made Sarah Nicole-Robles bawl in the recording studio, right after she recorded the lines.
When these changes happen - when we experience the loss of a person, when our ties with them are wrangled into a new form, against our will - it can be devastatingly painful. Change and transformation make for fancy, dramatic scenes in fiction, and they always incur loss in some form, painful or not. It also made me so emotional when seeing how much 18-year-old Luz resembles Manny, and how her enrolment in the university is linked to both her biological father and Papa Titan.
King's experience of seeing the majesty of his father, however brief, left him in awe and exhilaration. He can rest in the beautiful knowledge that Papa Titan was watching over him the whole time too. The message that his dad left him, relayed by Luz, is something he'll hold dear forever.
Hunter will never be truly harmed by Belos ever again. But he can't discard the memories of Belos granting him attachment: even if the attachment ended up not being real in a sense. However, like what can be applied in real-life therapy, he can get guidance on how to rescript those memories.
Belos's lies about having good intentions don't change how it felt real to Hunter all those years ago. Hunter was a young child when receiving this 'love', and in a twisted way...the mission given to him by Belos kept him alive up till he could escape the Coven, because the mission gave his life meaning despite the circumstances being awfully terrible. A child cannot survive without attachment, and needs attachment even if the experience of attachment has been horrendous and scarring. And holy Titan don't get me started on how at age 16 (before the timeskip), he had yet to learn more grisly details about his predecessors - whom he might view as older brothers and fathers whom he never met - and the generational trauma in his Golden Guard family tree:
which would have definitely been explored before he could experience that amazing hard-won serenity and peace at age 20.
Even Philip's arc is inextricably tied to his manner of coping with how he murdered Caleb, who was the closest thing he had to a father, given how these two brothers were orphans. In the end, Philip meets his end while Luz gazes upon him the same way Caleb's ghost did. Philip won't be haunted by Caleb's ghost again, and he joins the person who was essentially his father figure in death. Till the very end, he was projecting onto another person because he didn't want to recognize the same traits in himself. He was the one responsible for his father figure's death.
But grief doesn't mean the relationships in question have ended altogether. It's kind of like what this post about the finale (link) says, and it even extends to the relationship between us fans and the show itself.
The cliché "5 Stages of Grief" is the most commonly mentioned grief model, but I follow the development and advocacy of a newer perspective on grief that challenges it. In fact, the 5 Stages was originally just intended for terminally ill patients, but it was taken out of proportion. I began a serious investigation into the newer models after I went through something that parallels Hunter losing Flapjack...eerily, it happened to me two weeks before TTT's release date. No wonder I feel so close to Hunter as a blorbo, I guess.
Unlike what the 5 Stages of Grief says, grief and linear time don't mix well. Without "stages" to follow, there isn't an expectation of some deadline or permanent end of a tunnel in the newer models. Such pressure wouldn't be honoring the sacredness of connections between us. Instead, less famous grief perspectives like the dual-process model and continuing bonds model, are a better fit to honor relationships that mattered, since they aren't given an expiry date.
I wonder how Luz would be feeling on the day she graduates from the Wild Magic University, and how King feels each time he unlocks his own new glyphs since he is the new Titan to supply the Isles with magic. And I wonder how Hunter felt when his coven sigil was replaced with the Flapjack tattoo, and how he feels when he sees the Gravesfield town seal and Wittebane statues.
There are ways in which they can get creative to integrate their grief (notice I didn't say "get rid of", "remove", "erase" or even "manage"...the pain is what is to be managed, not the grief itself) the best they can. In canon, we have examples such as the Hexsquad agreeing to get their Flapjack tattoos together. Luz letting go of the light glyph sheet here:
is also a fantastic representation of rituals like sending off a message in a bottle at a beach, tying a message to a balloon and letting it fly away (this happened in Reaching Out, didn't it?), or burning a message in a campfire to let it float up towards the sky in the form of embers.
It is a common recommendation to have exercises like letter-writing where the griever writes to the lost loved one. What many may not know is you can also do the reverse: you writing as your lost loved one, to yourself. Because the griever takes a piece of the lost loved one with them, that the griever has shaped within themselves. This is especially good if you need to extend forgiveness to yourself. An example from a book called Bearing the Unbearable:
The author felt responsible for the stillbirth of her child, but had a "happy accident" where she intuitively asked for forgiveness and then received it, by invoking the love that her child would have shown to her in a world where said child had remained alive.
I think Hunter in particular could benefit from something like this, writing to himself as the uncle whom he saw as genuine and nurturing, and gaining ownership of that part of him even though Belos was a liar and is now gone for good. It can help him move forward especially since he won't be spared from nightmares in which his loss is re-enacted. With this kind of rescripting, historical accuracy doesn't actually need to matter. After all, our own minds lie to us at times and mess with historical accuracy anyway, like Luz's thoughts telling her she was as bad as Belos, and how true that felt.
A physical loved one is lost to death, and it can feel just as painful - only in a different way - if people become estranged or separated without a literal death having occurred. But the connection to them isn't lost, it is only adapted. The bond continues. For better or worse.
I believe the pain in grieving is connected to each moment when we remember all over again that the one we loved isn't coming back.
It's like the needle of a gramophone getting stuck in the loop of an unpleasant-sounding record scratch noise. It's a bit like what C.S. Lewis says in his book A Grief Observed: "In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out." I can't find the other part but he later said something like, therefore if a friendship is lost, the part of you that only that friend could bring out, is also lost. Something in you is locked away forever, though new things can also be unlocked after the loss.
It wasn't shown onscreen but I wouldn't be surprised if it's regular for Luz to come across a meme and be freshly reminded of her dad's absence, because she can't show him that meme. King would be wishing that a new funny cat video he discovers is something his dad could also laugh at along with him. Hunter would be hoping that Flapjack, the previous Golden Guards and Caleb are watching as he brings back palismen.
Bereavement, and any grief that is significant enough to alter our personhood forever, are the forms of love that can never really grasp how time flows in a linear way. They can't be reasoned with, only experienced.
"...the howling at the center of grief is raw and real. It is love in its most wild form" - Megan Devine.
#I'm applying some of this to how I'm grieving the end of the show. our relationship with it has just changed..not ended#toh analysis#the owl house#luz noceda#king clawthorne#toh hunter#philip wittebane#caleb wittebane#manny noceda#papa titan#grief in The Owl House#loz writes a meta#death mention
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Negan x Virgin wife reader smut??? Questionable age gap if ur comfortable no pressure though
info: absolutely FILTHY, age gap (reader is 18 when they have sex, negan is like mid 40s), alcohol consumption, negan calls himself daddy, oral (female receiving), loss of virginity, probably more but i can’t even think rn.
summary: Negan’s always taken care of you, only now, you want him in a different way.
omg this took soooo long to write and is also absolutely huge 😭😭 it’s also just pure filth but totally is everything i’ve ever wanted
You were 16 when you arrived at the Sanctuary.
Though, you never really did anything. Negan didn’t even know if you knew how to fire a gun, but he didn’t mind. Your little fingers probably were too soft, they’d shake upon just nearing one, afraid of blemishing your perfect nails.
Your father was a loyal soldier of his, always carried out orders to a T. Therefore, Negan believed that your debt was paid, and didn’t feel the need to make you pull your weight, like most others.
After meetings, when everybody was dismissed, those big wooden doors would open to you standing there, waiting for your father with a sweet smile on your face. He’d place his hand on your back, kiss you on the head, walk you out.
It made Negan think that maybe, just maybe, there was good left in the world. That good was you.
Sometimes a mission would go haywire. Radio connections lost, a truck missing, hijacked. When this happened, you’d always wind up at the door to Negan’s office, timid little knocks garnering his attention. You’d ask, visibly upset, if your father would be okay, if he had any news on when he’d be back.
And Negan would always assure you it was fine, that you’d best get to bed. Morning would come, your father would return, and your world would be complete again. Each time, you’d sniffle, flashing him that sweet little smile before bidding him goodnight.
You were 17 when your father died.
It was a seemingly random attack on an outpost, though Negan knew otherwise. 20-odd men were killed, including your father. When he’d shared the news, you weeped and cried for what felt like hours.
Despite the million tasks to be completed, justice to be avenged, Negan had set that aside to comfort you. Sit down with you, ease your worries, promise that he’d make things right. That whoever did this would pay, he would get your revenge. Even though the tears didn’t stop, and you practically didn’t move from your bed for days afterwards, you’d still managed the effort to give Negan a smile.
You were trying, so, so hard.
But things changed after that.
Well, you changed.
A year went by, and you got harder. Learnt to live on without the guidance of your father, though the struggle was still evident. You were lost, like a little lamb.
Some of the older girls took you under their wing, teaching you the necessities of life in this world. How to make a knife, how to escape rope binding, how to please a man. All the things your father had sheltered you from, made sure you wouldn’t need to worry about.
Though you appreciated their help, it wasn’t the same. Women were too… understanding. They were soft, gentle with you, but it came from a place where they saw a version of themselves in you. No, you wanted something masculine. That protective hand on your back, the feeling of a beard scratching your cheek when he left you sweet little kisses.
You were 18 when you found this again.
Albeit, in a different way.
The war was progressing, however slowly, and tensions were high. Infighting was getting more and more common, Rick was getting on Negan’s last nerve, and his wives were starting to tick him off.
It was another late night, chain-smoking and trying to brainstorm any sort of play against the Alexandria group. Just something to gain some leverage, as he could feel the power slipping from his fingers, whilst they were only getting more and more rebellious.
Just last week, they’d attacked the Sanctuary, where Negan realised that he needed to put an end to this.
There’s that slight knocking at his door, the quiet tap tap tap. He doesn’t need to see to know who it is, nor does he need to answer for you to enter.
You push past the doors, feet clothed in white cotton socks. The type with pink bows on them, on either side. It makes your footsteps silent, padding across the wooden floorboards until you’re standing in front of Negan’s desk.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
It’s become a rather common phrase, though Negan had thought that you were getting better. The attack must have set you off again, put you on edge, anxious. It makes sense, as you weren’t exactly accustomed to the gunfire and shouting.
“You try counting, doll?” Negan asks, watching you over the rim of his glass, letting the smooth whiskey slide down his throat. His eyes wandered downwards, taking in your silk nightdress, falling just to the top of your thighs.
Tantalisingly small, you needed a new one.
This past year, after your 18th birthday, you’d become dangerous. Confident. Each day your shorts seemed to get shorter, the straps on your tanks skinnier. You pushed the limit, that sickly sweet smile transforming into something alluring and tempting whenever you gazed at the younger soldiers.
It was like a ticking time bomb, and without your daddy to guide you, Negan knew you were moments from acting out.
“Mhm. Doesn’t work,” You shrug, eyes downcast upon the wooden desk, like you’re searching the dark grain for some sort of answer to all your problems, “Why count when I can come see you?”
This causes Negan to chuckle, that deep sound that rumbles from his chest, causing you to look back up at him. He sets the glass down, a soft clink as it collides with the table. “Because sometimes I’ll be busy. Ya gotta learn to handle yourself.”
Wrong choice of words.
Negan knew that, because there was this little flicker in your eyes, like a light that had switched on.
Of course you could handle yourself, that’s what you’ve been doing this past year.
You knew what you wanted, and were willing to hunt it down, like prey. All those hushed conversations with the older women, reading all those magazines, you knew what you were doing. Or, you thought you knew what you were doing.
Negan could see this, which is why indulging in these thoughts with you was a dangerous game. He was only a man, after all, and you just looked so good in that little silk dress, the spaghetti straps almost hanging off your soft shoulders. It was like a temptation from the devil himself, the ultimate forbidden fruit.
“C’mere, princess.” He calls out, internally cursing himself for being so fucking stupid, but nonetheless leaning back slightly in his chair.
He was going to hell.
But luckily, sinning was a two player game.
You accepted the invitation, slinking over to him, knuckles just brushing the wooden desk as you pass. Without instruction, you situate yourself between Negan’s slightly parted legs, your ass making contact as you sat on his thigh, rough denim creating friction against your soft skin.
His hands instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer, where you allowed your head to fall against his chest. It was comforting, and Negan smelt like smoke and leather, something to unfamiliarly masculine but you loved it. You wanted to smell it forever, feel him forever.
“Why haven’t you asked me to be a wife?”
This causes Negan to furrow his brows, tilting his head to look down at you. In turn, you meet his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes. The position makes him feel powerful, like you’re tiny in his hands, something he could direct with ease. He quickly banished the thought away, not wanting to corrupt your innocence.
“Because you’re too young, doll.”
“But I know things,” You assert as soon as Negan has given his excuse, desperate to make him understand, “From.. from asking people, from reading magazines. I know what to do.”
Negan’s eyes flicker across your face, taking in the cute little pout on his lips. Reading? It suddenly dawns on him that you’re more inexperienced than you let on. All those flirty remarks, seductive stares directed at his soldiers, hadn’t proved fruitful.
You were a virgin.
Now, that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did, but God. Negan’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, keeping you pressed firmly against him, to which you lifted your head from his chest. One hand raised higher, gently brushing the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The other shifted downwards, snaking his long fingers just under your soft asscheek, peaking from that silky nightgown that bunched above your thighs.
As much as Negan had resented the idea of tarnished your innocence… now it just seemed all the more alluring. Being your first, being the only one you’ll ever taste. Making you his.
“You ever drank whiskey, baby?” He finds himself asking, voice just as smooth and fiery as the alcohol in question.
Your head tilts, eyes owlish and curious as you shake your head no. Negan leans forward in the chair, keeping you close to his chest, and scoops up the previously abandoned glass.
Auburn liquid sloshes slightly with the movement, and Negan takes a moment to adjust you in his lap, manoeuvring your body with ease. He presses his thumb against your plush bottom lip, the slight pressure causing you to open your mouth around him, where he is able to replace the digit with the rim of the glass.
His hand shifts to your jaw, holding you with a firm grip and tilting your head backwards, tipping some of the whiskey into your awaiting mouth. It passes your tongue, gliding down your throat until he pulls the glass back, allowing you just a taste.
Your nose scrunches at the harsh burn, not accustomed to it, before letting your tongue dart out to lick your lips.
“It’s warm.” You mumble, voice still quiet and delicate despite the actions you were partaking in, “Like… in my chest.”
“Yeah? Feelin’ it here?” Negan asks, a smirk beginning to play at his lips in response to your pure innocence. His hand slides up your body, brushing along smooth silk, until it comes to rest just in the channel between your plump breasts. He applies a slight pressure, a firm hand that sits over your heart, where he can feel it increase in tempo.
At this, you smile, pink lips curving upwards while you lean in a little, head tilting up to look at him. Negan feels inclined to mimic the motion, allowing you closer until he can feel your soft breaths against his mouth, lips slightly parted in anticipation.
His eyes flicker down, weighting the severity of these temptations, before meeting your gaze again. “If you wanna do this, baby-girl, then there is no going back,” He advises, voice lowered to match the tension of the situation, “I am going to tear you apart.”
A mixture of anticipation and fear floods your stomach, butterflies tingling and reaching areas that you’d forbidden yourself from touching. Only the slightest motion is required until your lips are touching, pressing against his, causing you to shift closer on your lap.
Negan takes note of your pure eagerness, licking into his mouth with no hesitation, letting your tongues intertwine like you’re trying to taste every inch of his mouth. You’re drunk off the feeling, how he tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, and you can feel his stubble irritating the skin around your mouth but it feels so inexplicably good.
You’re ravenous, fulfilling that deep yearning that’s directed your every movement for the past year. But Negan wants to take it slow, pull you apart, help you understand everything that he’s capable of doing to your body.
So he wraps a hand in your soft hair, balling it around his fist and holding the back of your head in place. A desperate whine leaves you when he pulls his face away, a grin quickly spreading upon seeing your dissatisfied pout.
“Not so fast, baby.” He hums, before diving in once more, directing the pace of the kiss himself.
Whenever you get too eager, trying to take control, Negan will pull away again, letting you gasp and whine and beg him to kiss you again. It’s utterly pathetic, you’ve barely even started and it’s already apparent just how much control Negan has over you, a notion that makes him feel completely elated and also extremely aroused.
It feels like an eternity, with you seated in his lap, leisurely making out and learning exactly what makes you tick. Negan finally lets go of your hair, giving appreciative pets through the silky locks and then down your back, before two large hands are hooking underneath your ass and pulling you upwards.
The sudden movement causes you to gasp, arms quickly gripping onto Negan to steady yourself, but he’s strong enough to manhandle you onto the desk. That white nightgown bunches at your hips, and Negan pushes it upwards to your waist, letting out a low whistle at the sight of your little white lace panties.
“Look at you, princess.” He grumbles, pushing your thighs apart on the desk to get a proper look. There’s a wet stain right over your core, and Negan shamelessly presses his fingers against the thin fabric. The contact makes you squirm, bracing your hands behind you on the wooden desk.
He brings himself closer by pushing the chair forward, whilst simultaneously gripping your thighs and pulling you towards him. Closing the gap, Negan presses his nose against your clothed cunt, letting his tongue dart out to further soil the sticky fabric. The lewd act causes you to gasp, nails scratching against the surface and legs shaking, clamping around his head.
“Tastes so fucking good, baby-girl. This pussy was just made for me.” Negan groans, inhaling your intoxicating scent mixed with the slightly salty taste on his tongue. It took everything in him not to completely brutalise your poor cunt, though he knew it would be sopping by the time he was finished.
Two large, rough hands skate up your thighs, fingers slipping into the dainty handles of your panties. Negan pulls the straps down, letting the fabric fall from your hips and down your legs. Instead of discarding the item onto the floor, or setting it aside, Negan slips them into a nearby drawer. You clock the action, and it makes your face flush bright red.
Negan takes a moment to admire the sight of your bare skin, his hands tracing loving circles into your thighs. “Fuck, can’t believe this is all for me.” He groans, before finally, finally, bringing his mouth close enough to make contact your with your heat.
He licks a long line from your dripping hole, to your clit. Tongue flattened, feeling every ridge of your pussy. The sensation is completely new, leaving you to gasp over him, palms splayed out against the wooden desk. It’s tempting to squeeze his head in your thighs, to completely crumble, but you keep them open and spread.
The effort must be visible, because Negan tilts his head to the side, pressing a tender kiss against your skin. “Bein’ such a good girl, aren’t you? Don’t worry, baby. Let go for me.”
Each word of encouragement is rumbled into the meat of your thighs, and eventually, back into your waiting cunt. It’s overwhelming, in the best way possible, and Negan takes the time to talk you through the pleasure, albeit muffled by how devotedly he’s eating you out.
You squirm against the desk, little pants and surprised cries leaving your mouth, struggling to adjust to the sensation of Negan’s lips suctioning over your clit, creating a steady motion that causes a whole other wave of pleasure to wash over your shoulders.
But then, he’s pressing a single, thick digit against your hole. There’s a slight resistance, but Negan takes his time, circling his finger around the silky cavern until it finally gives, sucking his finger inside. All of this, whilst he continues his assault on your pussy, licking into it shamelessly in a pattern he’s learnt will give you the most pleasure.
“Fuck, it’s.. I-I dunno if I can take it.” You mumble when Negan perseveres, pushing another finger into your warm cunt. It’s a tight fit, but he’s willing to make it work. Determined.
“Oh, baby. You will be taking a lot more than this.”
It fills you with a sense of fear, an anxious feeling growing in the pit of your stomach, like you’ve swallowed a rock. Until Negan pushes his fingers upwards a little, and you practically jump from the desk, a ragged moan leaving your throat. He continues to press against the fleshy spot, meanwhile suctioning his lips around your clit and sucking hard.
You gasp and cry, little tears filling your eyes as you drop backwards. One arm supports you on the desk, the other moving so that you can grip onto Negan’s short, dark hair. Your nails scratch as his scalp, but he doesn’t care, because it’s only a sign of how much pleasure he’s bringing you.
It sounds like you’re trying to say something through the distraught moans, but the words carry no meaning, practically unintelligible. It’s like your bones have turned to jelly, this new feeling arising in your stomach, something you haven’t felt before.
It feels like pressure, an intense pressure. It builds and builds, and you know that it’ll snap soon, but you can’t find your words in order to warn Negan. Yet, he already knows, of course he knows. By the end of this, he’ll understand your body better than you do. Maybe he already does.
Because when it snaps, your orgasm finally reaching its peak, Negan only quickens the pace of his fingers and tongue. His other hand is now on your lower stomach, leaving soft pets against the skin, gently trying to bring you down from everything.
Now, Negan would love nothing more than to keep going, to devour your sopping pussy until you’re crying tears of pain, begging him to relent. One day, he’ll have you like that. Not now, not while you’re still adjusting to everything that he’s possible of giving you.
The hand previously positioned in his hair falls down to his shoulder, where Negan finally brings his face up from your pussy, leaning in closer to you. His beard is shiny with your slick, fingers similarly coated in it, and there are red marks from where his stubble had irritated your sensitive thighs.
You look a mess.
Panting, teary eyed. Face all red and flushed, looking up at him. Your mouth opens to speak, but Negan is quick to cover it with his own, capturing you in a deep kiss.
It’s messy, passionate, though you’re really worn out. Yet, you show him your appreciation, licking feverishly into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. Then you’re leaning forward, pushing yourself back into a sitting position on the desk, arms wrapped around Negan’s shoulders.
When you break apart, he nudges your cheek with his nose, moving to press kisses against your skin. “How ‘bout I get you into bed, huh?”
You push away from him, shaking your head. There’s a look of confusion on your face, a small pour forming against your lips. “No, no, not yet. We can keep going.” You protest, looking up at him with the most precious, hurt little eyes.
Negan moves his hand up, capturing your face in his grasp, holding you still. His thumb rubs at your plump bottom lip, still wet with his spit, all bitten and red.
“You really want this?” He asks, “Because ‘s gonna hurt, baby. It’ll feel good, but it’ll hurt first.”
You only nod, separating yourself from his hold, to lie back against the wooden desk. It’s slightly uncomfortable, and cold against the naked skin of your thighs, but you prop your feet up against the wood in order to present yourself to him.
It’s lewd, a temptation, you’re trying to lure him in. And it works. Of course it does. Negan can’t deny you any longer, not with that sweet smile, beautiful little face. He wants nothing more than to know that you’re his, and only his.
“Beautiful girl.” He rumbles, splaying a hand over your stomach, running it up over the curve of your breasts. The silk nightgown is pushed upwards, until it’s pooled around your neck. Negan leans down, helping you to sit up a little, so that he can remove the nightgown completely.
Now, you lay bare on his desk, causing him to whistle at the sight. There’s already a damp spot near the edge, where your pussy had stained the wood, a mixture of slick and Negan’s spit. There was another pool forming, where your legs now lay spread at the end, awaiting the blessed moment you’d been dreaming about.
Negan is careful about it, sticks his fingers back into your sopping hole, making sure it’s maintained it’s previous elasticity. It practically sucks him in, and to prove your point, you squeeze your muscles around his fingers.
“Okay, baby. Don’t get impatient on me.” He coos, one hand remaining on your thigh, whilst the other works at removing his pants.
They drop to the floor with a heavy noise, to which he doesn’t bother to fully move them, letting the denim slump around his boots. You prop yourself up a little, looking down the length of your body to where Negan finally reveals his cock.
It’s thick, much thicker than his fingers. How is that even supposed to fit in there? It’s wide around the base and tip, long and curved upwards, towards his stomach. Subconsciously, your legs close a little, but Negan keeps his grip firm as he presses your thighs against the desk.
“You still wanna do this, baby?” He asks, despite his greater instinct to just claim what’s in front of him. Admittedly, it’s been a little difficult to hold off this long.
If you were anyone else, the act would be long done by now. But this was different. You were different. He still wanted to take care of you, like you were a helpless little girl, except you weren’t. This was your plan, after all. Like a lioness, you’d hunted him down, and there no way you were going home without your reward.
A smile spreads on your lips, looking up at him through your lashes, “Yes, please.”
It’s said in that same sweet tone, as if you’re not actually begging for his cock, but another bedtime story. Like you aren’t naked on his desk, pussy dripping down onto the wood, completely spread out like a lavish meal.
“Good girl.” He mumbles, pulling your legs so that they dangle over either of his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. At this angle, he can already feel your heat, so, so close to him.
One hand grips his cock, the other planted across your stomach, a large hand splayed over your skin for comfort. Negan looks down, guiding himself to finally press against your core. There’s a slight resistance, but in no time, he’s length is being sucked into your gooey walls.
There’s a pensive look on your face, which he notices, causing a smile to grow on his own. Your nose twitches slightly, chewing on your bottom lip, trying to adjust to the new feeling. It doesn’t necessarily feel bad, just strange.
But, Negan is only able to get the first few inches in, until there’s a hitch in the process. He leans down, letting you wrap your arms around him, and captures your mouth in a kiss. You give in instantly, preoccupied completely with licking into his mouth, therefore not fully aware of the firm thrust he gives to break through the barrier.
You hiss into his mouth, accidentally biting down onto his lip. Negan doesn’t seem to mind, as he begins pressing kisses down your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of bloody marks in his wake.
“Shh, you’re okay,” He soothes, keeping his hips still, not yet pressing any further until the pain has subsided, “Ain’t gonna hurt for much longer.”
The promise proves fruitful, as within a few moments, you’re wiggling a little in his grasp, giving the silent permission to continue. You look down the gap between you, watching as Negan’s cock slowly pushes further in, until your hips are finally flush.
“Breathe, babygirl.” He murmurs, still licking and sucking over your skin. The wet trail continues, until Negan pays attention to your plump breasts, his tongue collecting the beads of sweat that’s built from the exertion.
You claw at his neck, one hand making it’s way into his hair, scratching slightly at his scalp. Then he’s moving, gently pulling out, until just the tip remains. You breathe through the uncomfortable feeling as he pushes back in, a mixture of your slick and a little blood dripping down your ass, only to pool on the wooden desk.
It’s intense, having Negan stretch you open on his cock, the kind of sensation you’d never felt before. You keep watching between you, keen interest in your eye, which he finds adorable. Even as he speeds up a little, the twinge of pain subsiding into a constant flow of pleasure, you’re still fighting to keep your eyes on him.
He readjusts, bringing your legs back down, only to firmly pin your thighs to the desk. In this position, you’re completely spread for him, causing a blush of embarrassment to rise on your cheeks.
It doesn’t last long, as Negan has found the perfect angle to thrust up into you, causing you to raggedly moan and your eyes to squeeze shut. He continues to hammer the same spot, and it feels heavenly, like his cock is actually in your stomach.
You scratch at the wooden desk, gripping for dear life as Negan holds you still, both large hands planted across your thighs. He’s gripping and kneading them, and you hope they’ll be bruised the next day.
But finally being sheathed in your wet heat is it’s own struggle for Negan, as he’s trying to hold off cumming for as long as possible. He’d been rock-hard the entire time you were making out, but this? It was a victory better than war.
So he moves one hand off your thigh, bringing it to your swollen and abused clit. You gasp as he makes contact, tracing firm, tight circles over the muscle that make your eyes roll back, pathetic noises leaving your parted lips.
“That’s it, baby. Cum for daddy.” He praises, leaning down to leave dark marks on the junction of your neck. You wrap your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as Negan continues to fuck into you, hitting that fleshy spot that causes you to cry.
It’s obvious when your orgasm hits you, as your whole body shudders, moans tapered off into high-pitched whines of pleasure. Your gooey walls clench around Negan’s cock, making him groan into your flesh, putting more force behind his thrusts.
Luckily, it’s all he needs to finish, pumping his cum deep into your channel. The overstimulation causes your hips to twitch, legs jolting with the sudden sensation, but Negan tests your limits, shallowly pushing his seed deeper inside you.
Your nails scratch at his neck, eyes pricking with overworked tears, “It’s too much.” You squeak out, voice all raw from all those noises that had been forced from your throat.
“Okay, beautiful,” Negan whispers, pulling himself out of your sensitive cunt, hands gently soothing the bruised skin of your thighs, “But next time, you’ll take it until I say so.”
It’s vaguely threatening, and causes another wave of arousal to ebb through your stomach. However, your mind focuses on one thing, a bashful and pleased smile growing on your tired face.
“Next time?”
It catches Negan off guard slightly, realising what he’d said. That, and you just look so happy, like you’ve finally gotten what you wanted.
“Of course, darlin’. You belong to me.” He assures, savouring the fact that you were so eager to be with him, despite everything.
That night, the nightmares didn’t return. Of course, you didn’t go back to your bed, but instead Negan’s. He took care of you from then on out, it was safe to say you were his new favourite.
#negan smith x reader#the walking dead x reader#twd x reader#twd x you#negan smith#the walking dead#digital footprint who’s that
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I'm on Fire
Part 13: This Heart is Haunted
18+Only, mature content, angst, reader is being stalked, mention of physical & emotional abuse, biker MC, unprotected sex, sex with someone other than reader, exes are everywhere, mention of battling cancer, home invasion, tarot reading, spiritual guidance, mention of a gun, mention of taking someone's life, hurt & comfort. wc: 8.6k
Masterlist Playlist
Summary: Reader and Eddie are very much in love as the world piles on again. Both of their exes are in town, and Craig leaves a disturbing calling card to let reader know he is watching. Steve is properly introduced to Charlene in more ways than one, Astrid tries to protect Steve in the best way she knows how, and we get a peek into what Wayne "Uncle" Munson is thinking
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"Wendy let me in, I wanna be your friend
I want to guard your dreams and visions
Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims
And strap your hands across my engines."
Born to Run - Bruce Springsteen
I'm on Fire Part 13: This Heart is Haunted
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John Gregson sent you a generous down payment for his commissioned painting, and most of it went right to the art store with you to by a roll of canvas, new paints, and brushes. Eddie went with you, and insisted on driving your car, but not before he had to adjust the driver’s seat all the way back so that he wasn’t eating his knees. He found a paint-by-numbers color pack of a dragon for Oliver, and crept up behind you, pretending to be someone else.
“Excuse me, miss? You are so fine,” he whispered in the sketchbook aisle. “Are you single, by chance?”
You checked to each side of you, feigning to look for him. “There’s this one guy I fuck from time to time, but it’s not serious.”
“Oh, is that right?” Eddie tickled your ribs, and then picked you up off your feet, munching down on the side of your neck with his teeth. “You better take it back.”
“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” you wiggled free with a laugh that seemed to echo off of the store walls, shoes squeaking on the linoleum.
Eddie wouldn’t let you carry anything on the way out to the car, and you did not miss some of the feminism that left your body in that moment as he held one of the bags in his teeth. The canvas roll was almost too long for the back seat, and you had a moment of panic, but then Eddie figured it out, clapping for himself after and taking a small bow.
The big, scary biker with the tattooed hands and the War Machine insignia kindly reminded you to fasten your seat belt, just as he clicked on his own and slipped his sunglasses on.
“I don’t know, Munson,” you grinned into the sun as he backed out of the parking space. “You’ve been such a help today, there might be some roadhead on the menu.”
He slammed the brakes and snapped his head to look at you, his hair flying, making you get the giggles. “See, now you’ll have to forget I said anything. I want it to be a surprise.”
He continued backing out, checking over his shoulder. “Surprise roadhead could kill a man, baby. You gotta give me some warning.”
So far, it had been the most chill day since before you’d been fired. You were sinking into the routine of “normal” couples, doing mundane chores together, holding hands in public, being sickeningly, adoringly head over heels for each other. And it felt really good. So good, in fact, you could almost forget for a second about all of the shit that had gone wrong, and could possibly go wrong.
Much earlier that morning as you lay curled up naked next to him in bed with your leg over him and your head on his chest, listening to a song by Mother Love Bone pour out softly from the stereo in Eddie’s apartment, he asked what you were thinking.
You’d been quiet for a while, zoning out, touching your fingertips to his as he spread them out to meet yours across the menacing bat tattoo on his chest.
“It’s silly,” you mumbled, kissing his shoulder with the side of your mouth. The morning was warm with a soft breeze blowing one of the long, blue curtains out into the room, and above the sound of the music came the rumble of motorcycles rolling into the compound, and electric drill firing in the garage across the way.
“Still,” he rested his head on yours. “I want to hear it. I want to know what goes on in that quirky brain of yours.”
As comfortable as you were with Eddie at that point, you were shy about admitting some of your deep-seated insecurities. What if you spoke them out loud and they came true? What if you started to let him know what went on in your “quirky”, anxiety riddled brain, and it scared him off?
You decided to take a chance, burying your face a bit more in the indentation of his armpit. “In the past, whenever I've felt genuine happiness, or everything seemed to be going really well, that’s always when everything would go to shit. So, I have this fear that—”
“---that you’re going to lose me?” Eddie interrupted softly, sliding his fingers down to intertwine with yours.
“Well, yeah,” you admitted. “Exactly that. Losing you, or something happening to Katie or Steve’s family. Anyone I care about.”
“The same shit happens to me in my head,” he promised. “It almost won’t let me enjoy whatever good thing is happening because I’m already thinking about how it could get fucked up. I’m always anticipating the next bad thing.”
“We are a sad pair,” you snorted a laugh.
“Hey, really though, listen to me,” he squeezed you tighter. “You’re not going to lose me, baby, fuck that. As long as we tell each other what is going on and we don’t have any secrets, no one can fuck with us. I won’t let anyone fuck with us.”
You propped up on your forearm to meet his eyes; they were bright brown and earnest. You swept his bangs to the side with your fingertips. “Well, that’s good to know because I don’t think I’d survive this level of heartbreak.”
“I won’t ever break your heart,” Eddie searched your face, running his knuckle down your cheek. “And if you break mine, I’ll probably sulk around for the rest of my life, just a shell of a man, playing songs on the street corner for loose change.”
You chuckled and scooted closer to kiss his mouth. “What are the deal breakers for you in a relationship? Something you could never forgive?”
He squinted curiously at you. “Are you trying to walk that line, sweetheart?”
“No,” you bit your lip through a smile, but then dropped your head back to the warm skin of his shoulder. “My deal breaker is cheating. I can forgive a lot of things, but never that.”
Eddie took a big inhale, thinking about this, but then he swallowed hard. “Just the thought of another man touching you, past or present, makes me see red, baby.”
There was a tension in the air as Eddie considered the crushing weight of said betrayal, and you bit at a piece of skin on your thumb, thinking about the complex inner workings of Eddie Munson.
To break the heavy silence, you started crawling on top of him, kissing his neck, working your core against his stiff morning wood. Eddie held your face and sucked at your bottom lip, running his tongue along the soft skin there, while you pressed the slick of your slit on his cock, arousal already evident.
“Would you really kill someone for me, baby?” You breathed, reminded of how he said he would kill or die for you.
“Without question,” he hissed at your wetness, reaching down to line the tip of his cock up with your entrance.
You sank down quickly, needing all of him with fluttering urgency. “When I think of someone, I will let you know,” you hushed. He cursed into your mouth and spanked your ass as you rode him, knowing that this was the only cock you would have inside of you for the rest of your life, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
Back in the sunny parking lot outside of the art supply store, Eddie continued on behind the wheel, pausing for a group of people as they strolled into he store, hand on your leg, squeezing your knee as he waited. He angled the car down in front of a clothing store, on his way to exit onto the street, and had to wait for a couple more people to cross.
You weren’t paying attention, too absorbed at the time pawing through the bag of goodies in your lap, fingering the new pastels and linseed oil with glee. But Eddie’s fingers dug into your leg and gripped there in a way that made you glance over at him.
Waiting at the crosswalk, Eddie’s skin drained of color as he watched the people pass in front of the car. You followed his attention: there was an older woman, perhaps 50, two younger girls maybe ages 7 or 8, a pretty blonde girl around 30, and a woman who could have been a supermodel with long, auburn hair, a short denim skirt, and a dragon tattoo on her thigh.
Your attention rose to Eddie and his nostrils flared, blinking a few times, teeth grinding.
For whatever reason, the tension made you nervous. “Baby, what is it? What’s wrong? Do you know them?”
Eddie swallowed, patting your leg a few times, forcing a smile that did not reach his eyes. “It’s nothing sweetheart. I just remembered something I had to do later on, that’s all.”
Not even a full day had passed since you’d both agreed to never to keep anything from each other, and there he was, lying already. He knew that you could tell he was withholding something, which made it even worse. His hope at the time was, if he ignored it, maybe it would go away.
Somehow, Melanie coming into town had almost slipped his mind, until he saw her there with his very own eyes walking with Chrissy, her mom, and her twin daughters. She looked different, but also exactly the same. The difference was that he no longer found her attractive; she might as well of had rotting flesh rolling off her bones for how repulsed he was to see her there in the street. He wasn’t afraid to tell you, he just didn’t want it to be real, he wanted to ignore her until she left town, and you could live in the bliss of never being able to put a face to her.
First of all, Eddie was a horrible liar. It was not hard for you to put the pieces together and realize that he did know one of the women in that group, if not all of them. But, you took one last look at his profile, told him you loved him, and decided to let it go. For now.
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A few days earlier, after the incident with Inky, Steve rolled up to the house at dawn to find Robin waiting up at the kitchen table. She was having a cigarette with her coffee, and Robin never smoked. He watched her bite into her thumbnail, chew it off, and then spit it on the floor as he stepped into the room.
“What’s up?” Steve shut the sliding door behind him and locked it. “Where’s Oliver?”
Robin put her finger to her lips to ask him to ask him to keep it down. She saw how he was favoring his freshly bandaged hand, but chose not to ask questions. “Katie is asleep,” she flicked the end of her cig over the ashtray. “Oliver spent the night with Wayne.”
Cautiously, Steve clapped down into the seat across from her, wallet chain hitting first, motioning for her to slide the pack of bargain basement knockoff cigarettes over. He had his own lighter, but she shot the box of matches over to him as well. Striking the match to light his smoke, Steve bucked his chin at the manila envelope she had next to her. “What’s in there?”
Robin brushed her hair off of her face and hunched forward. “Oh it’s just a little something. Might cheer you up.”
She pushed the envelope toward him with the pads of her fingers, both sets of eyes on it as it traveled across the faux wood surface. Now Steve knew exactly what it was when he saw the label on the front but even then, he was riddled with confusion.
“How did you--?”
A part of Steve knew, even though there’s no way he could’ve had any idea where Robin went that night or what she’d said to Tina to get her to sign her rights to Oliver away. Or the gun she’d pointed loaded and proud, letting them know there were only two ways the night could end, and both involved her walking away with those signatures. The saddest part was how quickly Tina had agreed to take the money in exchange for Oliver; there hadn’t even been a glimmer of internal struggle. Robin told herself it was for the best though, and once Oliver was old enough to ask questions, he would never know about that night, or how quickly he’d been given up.
Now, they really were broke, even more than before, and without any safety net to fall back on. But, no one would ever show up and try to take their son away again without facing legal ramifications, and Robin might’ve also let her know that she wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in her throat if she ever tried to get sneaky. “If you take Oliver, Steve and I will have nothing to lose. You know what they say about not wanting to fuck with someone who has nothing to lose.”
Steve peeked inside, exhaling a long, hot breath. After sucking on his lip for a few seconds, he raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “You’re telling me you got her to sign these and you got them notarized?”
“Katie,” Robin squinted and took another drag. The sleeve of her flannel fell down to expose the vine of an ivy tattoo on her forearm.
“She’s a notary? No shit?” he said the last part under his breath, chuckling a bit to himself.
Katie’s old job status as a notary public was a small detail that Robin had been fascinated to discover. Meeting up at a seedy motel in the middle of the night in her pajamas did not put Katie in a particularly compliant mood, but she offered her official services without too much of a fight. In fact, she had to admit later how much it had turned her on to find her girlfriend holding two people at gunpoint like that. It made her feel like she was in an episode of 21 Jump Street.
Steve rubbed one eye with the palm of his hand. The other hand, the one Astrid had cleaned and put a fresh bandage on for good measure, had just been used as a deadly weapon and pummeled a guy to the brink of death just the day before. He’d do it again in a heartbeat because no one threatened his family and got away with it. “Jesus, fuck, Rob. You know I love you, right?”
“Oh, you better,” she snorted a laugh, and then, softly,“I’d do anything for Ollie. And you. You know this,” and then she smashed the cigarette out in the ashtray. She couldn’t look him in the eye for fear the floodgates would open.
A sob hitched in his chest and he had to clear his throat. He really was on some real emotional bullshit lately and he made a fist with his good hand and banged it on the table, trying to collect himself. “Ditto.”
Robin got up and stretched her arms back with a yawn. “I’m going back to bed for an hour. You at the shop this afternoon?”
“Until late, yeah,” Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of the envelope. “I’m working on that chest piece for Thor.” Thor was one of the other Coffin Kings, a huge, beastly blonde dude with a long, braided beard.
Robin braced her hands on the back of the chair. “You thought anymore about going to Scott’s wedding this weekend?”
“Scott, you mean Daphne’s Scott?” Steve shook his head. “I haven’t thought about it at all, actually. There’s no way I’m going to that.”
Steve had only met Scott once at one of their barbecues, and Daphne knew Robin because her daughter and Oliver were the same age, but the last place Steve wanted to be stuck at was a wedding for two people he barely knew, or any wedding at all for that matter.
“You sure?” Robin craned her neck. “There’s going to be an open bar at the reception.”
“Nah, I got a thing on Saturday,” Steve waved his hand. “Take Katie, why don’t you?”
“I’ll think about it,” Robin worked her neck from side to side. “What do you have on Saturday?”
For some reason, a voice inside of Steve whispered that he should keep his plans vague. “Body guard gig,” he offered in a bored tone. He didn’t have to ask to know that Robin must’ve had to have paid off Tina somehow, and now they’d need some extra cash more than ever. What he wanted to do was change the subject. “Any word from Susie or Dustin?”
“Now that you mention it,” Robin scratched her cheek. “She’s due any day now and no, I haven’t heard a word. I should’ve checked in, I’ve just been out of my mind lately.”
“Dustin knows we’re in the thick of it,” Steve assured her. “We’re the first ones on the call list when she does go into labor, but I’ll give him a ring this afternoon to say hey.” He yawned, blinking his tired eyes a few times. “Should I take Ollie to the shop with me?”
“No, after Wayne drops him off, I got him,” Robin stole a curious look at Steve, knowing full well that there was something he wasn’t telling her. She was too exhausted in that moment to ask any questions as she turned to head down the hall. “Take a shower, dingus. You look like death warmed over.”
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Wayne always kept his shotgun up high in a locked closet whenever the kid came to stay, but when he returned from dropping Ollie off with his parents, he stood there at the open closet looking around for a minute. He fingered through the flannels and old jackets, skidding the wire hangers along the wooden dowel, until he found the frayed denim edge he was looking for. He yanked back the line of clothes so he could pull the article of clothing out and take a look at it.
It was his original denim with the sleeves cut off, known as a cut, or Kutte, with the Coffin Kings MC insignia on the back. The matching insignia among club members were all “cut” from the same cloth. He held it up and wiped his hand down it a few times, as if to dust it off, looking over the worn and road weary patches, including the one with his nickname “Uncle” over the pocket, because he’d been an honorary uncle to so many, including Steve and Astrid.
He took it over to the mirror on the back wall of his bedroom, set the hanger on the chair and pulled the denim on over his white tee, adjusting the collar, working his shoulders through. Chemo had taken a lot of his size, and so it hung a bit loose, but the shoulder muscles were still there, and he flexed his hands, knowing they could still deftly maneuver a blade or a gun, just like the old days.
Sticking out of the side of the mirror was was a black and white photo that had been bent in half and wrinkled over time. A photo of a much younger Wayne, Astrid’s mother Evelyn with her jet black hair over her shoulder in a braid, and Steve and Eddie as little kids; not much older than Oliver. The boys wanted to be a part of the life so bad, even then, that Evie made them their own vests, complete with Munson and Harrington patches and the Coffin Kings skull on the back. Evie had her hand on Wayne’s chest in the photo, gazing up at him, and Wayne’s arm was around her shoulders, but his eyes were on Steve, his mouth open about to say something. Steve was making a face, his mouth in a grimace to expose two missing front teeth, both of his arms up, flexing to pretend he had muscles. Eddie was more stoic, his expression set without emotion as he stared into the camera, hands in fists at his sides, feet braced wide. Off to the side was young Astrid. She was a few years older than the boys, but still a baby. Wayne remembered she didn’t want to be in the photo, but Steve started acting out to get her to come over, and there she was, face slightly blurred as she tried to move away, but a smile on her face nonetheless.
Wayne met his eyes in the mirror; windows to a soul that was familiar but set in a face he no longer recognized. He thought about his panhead motorcycle collecting dust at the storage unit across town. He thought about how badly he wanted to protect Oliver from the horrors of this world, from the MC life. The boy liked to paint and draw and bake things, and Wayne didn’t understand that either, but he didn’t see the lust for danger in his eyes like he had with Steve and Eddie; Steve, especially. Like he wanted to turn the world on its head and dump it out to see how it worked. Maybe he had the love of a good mom for that, the kind of mom that stuck around. He thought about all of the things this disease had already taken from him, but it wouldn’t take this. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.
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You’d stayed at Eddie’s for the past two nights in a row, and even though he would have you there with him every night if he had his way, you needed to set up your art room and take advantage of one of your afternoon off to work on John’s commission before you went back to the Hammer. You needed to stretch and frame the large canvas first, a meticulous process that took place in the garage, and then put up painters plastic around the art room so you wouldn’t flick paint around on the walls of the rental.
Eddie had brought you to work and picked you up the night before, and he took you home that next day in the tow truck so he could head to a job after. He popped in at the diner on the way to grab two coffee’s to go in tall white, Styrofoam cups. The older, married waitress there named Donna had a crush on both him and Wayne, and always gave him free stuff, for which they tipped handsomely. He came out of the diner holding the two cups up, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
“Things with Donna and I are getting serious, just so you know,” Eddie climbed up into the cab and passed your coffee to you, and then leaned over for a kiss once he was behind the wheel. “Black with two sugars for my lady.”
“Well, I don’t blame her one bit,” you clicked your tongue, leaning over to smell the fresh brew through the mouth opening in the lid and feel the steam on your skin, snuggling down into one of Eddie’s hooded sweatshirts. “Now I need to find an older, married boyfriend, and we’ll be even.”
What was meant to be a joke hit a little different because of the whole John Gregson situation, but Eddie snorted a chuckle as he put his cup in the holder on the dash. “You’re gonna turn me into a homicidal maniac if you’re not careful, sweetheart.”
As he got back on the main road toward your place, a glimmer caught your eye. The guitar pic on the ball chain hanging from the rear view mirror had always been there, but now there was a little, silver worry ring on the chain too, hanging flush with the red pick. It was the worry ring you usually wore on your thumb that you’d thought you had lost weeks ago. You reached up to take a better look and make sure.
“Baby, what is my ring doing here?”
Eddie took a wide turn, sucking his cheek, realizing he was properly caught red handed. “You left it on the nightstand that first time you came over,” he answered.
Your mouth fell open to goad him. “Why didn’t you tell me you found it?”
Eddie’s eyes found the ring in question where it swayed with the movement of he vehicle. “I don’t know, I think I meant to, but then I kinda liked having it in here with me. Whenever I look at it, I think about you. Something stupid like that.”
Your heart rushed, sending waves of heat through your veins. You were staring at his profile now, unable to look away, absolutely, wholly filled to the brim with love for this man.
“You really got it bad for me, don’t cha Munson?”
He offered a small nod and a shrug, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel to the beat of the music.
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It was almost 9am by the time Eddie dropped you off at the duplex. Katie was already at the school, and your orange tabby cat Charlie was in a mood, so you sat on the couch with him for a bit while you finished your coffee. Although Charlie loved affection, he was normally such a chill dude, but that morning he didn’t want to leave your side even after you put his favorite gravy bits breakfast in his food dish. You had been gone for a couple nights in a row, but you always came by during the day to check on him, so it wasn’t as if he’ been abandoned. It was almost as if he was trying to tell you something.
You stroked his ears back and kissed the top of his head. “Tell me, my boy, what’s on your mind?” But he only meowed, nuzzling closer, massaging his claws into your leg.
You ate some granola and dropped your bag on the floor at the end of your bed without turning the light on, heading straight into the bathroom for a much needed shower. You let the water get as hot as you could handle it, noticing the bruises on your hips for the first time from the way Eddie man-handled you during sex. You smiled against the stream of water at the memory.
Charlie was sitting on the sink with his tail curled around his feet when you opened the shower curtain, staring you down. “Close your eyes,” you told the cat as you clutched in the air for the green bath towel that was hooked over the metal dowel.
At least, you thought it was hanging there, but now you were grabbing at air because it was on the floor. You wiped water from your eyes and snapped another look at Charlie before you bent down to pick it up. “Did you do this?”
You were mumbling to yourself, wrapping the towel around your body and stepped out onto the mat. You remembered closing the bathroom door, but now it was open and you imagined that Charlie had pushed it open with his brute strength. You paused to put some moisturizer on your face, and then turned to open the door the rest of the way and face the bed, and that was when you realized there was something terribly wrong.
The bed was made; everything neatly tucked, comforter folded back at an angle, as an invitation. Had it been that way before you went into the shower? You wouldn’t know because you hadn’t turned the light on to look. The pile of clean laundry you’d thrown on the messy bed just the day before were nowhere to be found. You weren’t freaking out yet, not when you knew that Katie went into turbo cleaning fits when she was stressed, and there had been a lot going on with Robin lately. But it wasn’t like her to come into your space while you were gone and mess with your things.
A fear began to bubble inside of you as you clutched the towel tighter around your body, senses heightened as you inched over to check down the hall and in the closet. You were starting to feel so afraid that your hands got cold as shock began to set in preemptively.
With trembling fingers, you took hold of the wood knob and pulled open the top drawer of your dresser, only to jump back, covering your mouth to try and trap the scream that erupted.
Your underwear and socks were neatly folded into color coded rows. You yanked out the drawer under that and the next, only to find the same symmetry of tediously folded clothing. The second drawer fell all the way out and crashed to the carpet. In a frenzy, you dove forward and started scooping all of the clothing out of the drawers, yanking them all to the floor, making them a mess, throwing them around the room, tears running hot down your cheeks. You didn’t stop until the bottom drawer was empty; the drawer that had a few pieces of lingerie and silky pajama sets, all of it had been sorted and folded in the exact same way.
You covered your nose and mouth with your hands and sat down on the bed, taking sharp inhales, adrenaline preparing you for some kind of fight, flight, or fawn: whichever would keep you from eminent danger. There was and ocean in your ears.
You did not do this.
Katie would not do this.
The only person in the world who would ever do this
was your maniacal, neat freak ex fiance Craig.
Now you could hear a footstep creak on the wood planks in the hall just outside your bedroom and from behind you on the bed, Charlie hissed.
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Eddie didn’t have to take the long way back by your street with the old Chrysler on the back of the tow, but he did anyway, just because he liked being in your vicinity. Much like the “old days” when he would ride by your work, back when he thought you wouldn’t give him the time of day.
As he turned onto the street, he could see the front of your duplex on the corner, but his smile faded when he saw the front door was open. Not open just a crack, but open all the way, exposing the interior or the house, and you didn’t have a screen door, so he wouldn’t imagine you’d leave it that way on purpose. What if your cat got loose? He took a sharper turn than he should have to line the truck and pull along the opposite side of the street to park it, doing his best not to crush your neighbors garbage can, all the while keeping his eyes on the entrance, thinking maybe you’d appear and there would be some explanation.
He paused before crossing the street as a guy in a hunter green utility vehicle inched its way to the stop sign. The driver stared Eddie down as he went at a crawl, and Eddie was taken aback to be aggressively eyeballed by a stranger, but he returned the heated glare, bucking his chin. “Fuck’s your problem, man?” Eddied shouted, shrugging his hands in the air. The guy gave an open mouth smile, and made a motion of dragging his fingers across his throat, just before he stomped on the gas and flew through the stop sign, taking a right. Normally, Eddie would’ve taken more notice of the details of the license plate and whatnot, but his attention quickly returned to your open door, taking long strides to the opposite sidewalk.
Eddie looked around before he stepped inside, hand on the hilt of his knife. “Baby? Are you in here?” He asked it softly so it wouldn’t scare you. “It’s Eddie. Your door is wide open.”
His ears followed the sound of things being tossed around, and something heavy hitting the ground with a wooden crack. But then you screamed and his heart tightened as he bolted down the hall.
“Baby?” He entered your bedroom to find all of your dressers drawers open, and two on the ground, clothes scattered everywhere. You jumped when you saw him, scrambling back with a shriek, clutching a towel to the front of your body so that you wouldn’t be exposed.
You were afraid of him, or whoever you thought he was. Cheeks wet with tears, eyes wild like a feral animal caught in a trap. You backed all the way to the wall with your hand out, palm up, before you realized who it was.
“Eddie?” Relief flooded through you, and you dropped the towel, stark naked, to run into his arms, a sob choking in your throat. The feel of his denim and cool of his belt bucket against your skin helped to soothe your nerves, taking a deep inhale of the woodsy spice scent of his aftershave.
Eddie’s mind was reeling as he held you tight; one hand cupped behind your neck and the other at your back rubbing in slow circles. “It’s me, baby. It’s just me.”
You blinked hard, wishing he’d never had to see you like this, wishing you’d never have to tell him about Craig and why you were so afraid of him. You had no proof that your ex had actually been in your house, but also---you had all the proof you needed. This kind of sick fuck head game was right up Craig’s alley. But how had he found you? How would you ever get rid of him now? You didn’t want Eddie to have to get involved with this mess. Sure, Eddie was tough, but Craig was certifiable, and you were well aware that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you in his life.
You buried your face in Eddie’s chest and wrapped your arms as tight as possible, wishing you could both run away and disappear and not have to deal with any of this.
“Talk to me, baby,” Eddie said in a lower octave than normal, his blood boiling. “Who did this to you?”
-----------
That afternoon on Friday, Steve went to meet the woman he’d be doing security for the next day. He gave a low whistle as he rolled up to the main gates, “holy shit,” he mumbled, pinching a smoke between his lips, lighting it while his bike idled and he pushed the buzzer to announce himself. He combed his fingers through his hair as he rode in over a blood stain that was embedded in the cement, shooting a look to the 10 car garage, wondering what kind of beauties were in there and hoping he’d get to drive one.
“Be careful,” Astrid had warned a few nights ago when he stayed at her place. She shuffled her Tarot deck and did a quick reading for him. She tapped her finger on one of the cards. “I don’t like the look of this. I think someone with a dark heart has their evil eye on you.” Without looking up at him, she continued. “I need to do a protection spell before you go.”
“Does that protection spell include you riding my face?” Steve scooted his chair forward, lunging to kiss her temple, but she shrugged him off, trying to concentrate.
Her eyes were sweeping over the cards she’d just pulled for him with a tense bundle of lines between her thick, dark eyebrows. “I’m serious Steve. It’s someone with power who wants to own you, and I think the offer will be very tempting. Think Satan in a Sunday hat.”
She pulled two more cards. Her eyes flicked from Steve to the table several times. “Are you going to some kind of formal event this weekend?”
Steve winced. “Not if I can help it, why?”
This gift that Astrid had was much deeper than deciphering the magic in a deck; she had always been able to see beyond the veil of the known world. It was her gift that kept her lonely, and more often than not, she saw it as a curse.
She sat back in her seat to look the cards over again for an unnerving amount of time. Her intuition was foggy, and she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what would go wrong yet, but there were multiple threats on the horizon and her gut told her it was time to circle the wagons.
Steve’s tongue flicked out to lick the corner of his mouth. “Don’t leave me hangin’ here, darlin’. Do I get kidnapped by a bunch of circus clowns, or what?”
Her eyes locked onto his, letting him know she was serious. “Watch your back this weekend, Stevie.”
He took her hand. “Don’t I always, sweetheart?”
He thought about Astrid’s words as he wound the bike around to park at the front door, exhaling smoke as he flicked the cigarette to the side. He slid his sunglasses up on top of his head, taking in the expanse of the entryway, heavy boots plodding up the steps. At his wrist on a thin leather band was the tiny charm and gemstone Astrid had made him wear after she dowsed him in sage smoke and said a bunch of words he didn’t understand.
Charlene greeted him in nothing but the tiniest of bikinis, a straw sun hat, and a blue and red kimono, and Steve couldn’t help but adjust himself in his jeans at the way her breasts were almost spilling out of the tiny yellow top.
She offered him a drink out by the pool under one of the umbrellas, and Steve accepted a beer.
“I should thank you again for bailing me out,” Steve took a drink, glad that his eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses because he couldn’t’ take them off her heaving rack; the way the sweat trickled down her tan cleavage. A pool boy in tight, cut off jean shorts was cleaning debris from the surface of the crystal clear pool with a net at the end of a long handle.
“Anytime,” Charlene was so very charming when she wanted to be. “A friend of Eddie’s is a friend of mine.”
Steve took a generous gulp and put his forearms on the table. “Yeah? You know my buddy Eddie?”
Charlene flipped her blonde hair off of her shoulder. “Has he never mentioned me? We go way back.”
“Never,” Steve said without hesitation, making Charlene frown. “Not that I remember anyway. But Eddie and I don’t talk as much anymore. We’ve been too fucking busy.”
That seemed to lighten her expression, but the thought did occur to Steve to wonder how Eddie got word to her that he was in jail? He was pretty sure he didn’t even know about what happened until the next day. But, fuck it. Who cares how she found out? He just wanted to get this bodyguard gig over with and get his cash.
They agreed on a price for an evening of Steve’s services, and then Charlene led him inside to guide him up the big, lavish staircase to a guest bedroom where she had a gray and white suit waiting for him. She unzipped the black Armani sleeve it was in and Steve gulped. His mind immediately raced thinking about how much he could pawn it for on Sunday if she let him keep it.
“My cousin is getting married tomorrow,” she perched at the end of the floral bedspread, watching him pick the suit up to admire it. “I guessed at your size, but I can have a tailor meet us here before we leave if it needs fixing.”
Sure, Steve had been a bouncer forever, and had worked as an extra bodyguard a few times for visiting celebrities, but a personal bodyguard and escort for a woman like Charlene? Never. He wasn’t even sure why she needed protection for a wedding; looking down at the suit, he felt more like a gigolo than hired muscle.
“Nah, I’m sure it’s perfect,” and then he eyeballed the wedding photo on the vanity of a much younger Charlene with some other dude. “Where is your husband these days? Why can’t he take you?”
Charlene stretched back so that she was spread out on the bed, the nipple of one breast poking out from under the thin material. Her body was toned and supple and not at all what he expected a woman in her mid 40’s to look like. “My husband leaves town a lot for work. He doesn’t ask what I do, and I don’t ask what he does.”
“Fair enough,” Steve flicked his tongue over his gold tooth, watching the way she arched her back, exposing herself to him, making him palm his erection through his denim.
“For instance,” Charlene reached behind her neck to undo the tie for her bikini top, pulling it down, letting him see the expensive titties in all their glory. “He left yesterday and won’t be home until next week.”
So, of course Steve fucked her. He came between her tits and gave her a pearl necklace made of his cum, liking the way it dripped down her throat. He fucked her ass because she begged him to, using only spit for lube, her face pressed into the mattress, until she came, and then Steve milked a few more bursts of cum onto her backside with a grunt.
He liked getting paid and getting laid at the same time. He felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for a perfect situation like this to fall into his lap.
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Eddie paced at the doorway, flexing his hands into fists, “so this Craig fucker came here to what? Terrorize you? Try and get you back? I will put a bullet in his skull.”
You gave Eddie the cliff notes version of your relationship with Craig while you got dressed. How you thought he was fun and charming at first, but once you moved in with him, things got scary. He wouldn’t let you talk to your friends or go anywhere without him. When you first got the courage to leave, he broke into the house you were staying at in the middle of the night and put a knife to your throat. He’d been honorably discharged from the military and used his connections in the police force to bypass the protection order you filed on him. He was emotionally and physically abusive and stalked you for two years before you were able to make it to Hawkins without much more than the clothes on your back, and Eddie was reeling with how bad he wanted to get his hands on this guy. It made him want to start going up and down every street looking for him, which was not totally out of the question.
He had to go outside on the back patio for a smoke and you followed him. You sat down in one of the camp chairs on the concrete slab facing a patch of lawn that was maintained by the owner of the duplex, but Eddie stayed on his feet. You watched the muscles in his jaw flex as he frowned into his cigarette, his thoughts going to dark and dangerous places.
From what you told him about what the guy looked like and the description of his car, that was the dude who had stared Eddie down earlier. He didn’t want to alarm you anymore than you already were by telling you that he saw him, that the fucker had probably been in your house while you were taking a shower. He couldn’t have you staying at the duplex anymore until he could make sure that creep was long gone, and by long gone, he meant he was ready to put him in the dirt. If anyone could find him, Eddie could. He had family of the Kings who worked at police dispatch, and he had eyes all over town, from other tow truck drivers to every member of several MC’s. If this guy thought he was so sneaky, Eddie could do him one better.
Eddie was in a bad mood, cracking his knuckles, thinking about how much he would enjoy hurting this guy, when he heard a sniffle and realized you were crying.
“Hey, hey,” he snubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray Katie had there for the smoking she did when she was buzzed, and got down on his knees in front of you. He wiped a single tear off your cheek with his thumb, holding your jaw with gentle force so you would look at him. “This guy, he’s not gonna get near you again, alright? You’re gonna stay with me until I know you’re safe.” He cupped his hand around your neck and pulled your forehead to his. “Hey, I love you. You trust me when I say I’ll protect you, right?”
“It’s not that,” your eyes went to the Munson’s Garage patch on the front of his light blue work shirt. You kept your forehead pressed to his because you couldn’t look him in the eye. “Craig is dangerous, baby. I mean, he’s really crazy. I don’t want you getting hurt or---”
Eddie sat back on his heels, tilting his head to meet you eyes. “And you don’t think I’m crazy? Baby. I know you get the fluffy side of Eddie but I can do dangerous and crazy with the best of them. Okay? That’s all I’ve ever done. No one is going to fuck with my girl.”
His chocolate eyes searched you, needing to know that you believed you were safe.
You gnawed at your lip, eyes dewy and bloodshot. “I just wish this wasn’t happening,” you dropped your head again, mouth jerking down with impending sobs. “I wish we could run away.”
“Sorry baby but, fuck that,” Eddie stood. “You had to run from this guy once, he’s not gonna get the satisfaction of scaring you off this time. You’ve got me now.”
He squatted again, motioning for you to give him your hand and then he held it tight, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “And Steve and Robin and Wayne, and the whole Coffin Kings MC, baby. I want you to trust me. This fucker will be sorry he ever stepped foot in Hawkins.”
You slotted your hands on either side of his neck at his jawline, pulling him in, and the salt of your tears mingled in the kiss, your mouth opening wide to take him deeper. Unexpected moans of desperation escaped both of you, hands greedy for purchase on each other’s parts. You made it back inside the house just in time for Eddie to dive his hand down the waistband of your shorts.
“You’re mine,” he breathed, fucking two fingers up inside you, stifling your cry of pleasure with his mouth.
You scrambled to undo his jeans, pushing them down his hips. “I need you so bad, baby. Fuck me.”
There was no time to make it to the bedroom, you broke the kiss only long enough to bend over the kitchen island, shorts down, arching your ass up. Eddie swiped his cock along your glistening core only once before burying it inside of you groaning at the sensation. “Holy fuck, I love you,” Eddie murmured, proceeding to fuck his entire length inside, pulling your slit apart with his thumbs so that he could watch himself enter you.
You bucked back against him, meeting his urgency, biting your lip through hungry whimpers. Eddie shoveled his hand around the front of your throat and pulled you back, choking you with soft pressure while he other hand braced at your hip and he fucked you hard. He preferred to look at you when he was about to cum, but the two of you were frantic, and he was already close. Clinging to the counter, the wet slapping sounds of Eddie stretching you out were about to throw you over the edge. His hand moved from your throat to your mouth, dipping inside for you to suck them.
Eddie’s hips locked onto you as he came, and the sensation made your walls flutter, gripping him in a way that extended his orgasm, cursing, both of you crying out, able to forget about the worries of the world if only for those precious moments as you rode the high.
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At a decent chain Motel by a truck stop near the highway, Craig Ludlow paid for a week in advance and sat in the dark puffing a cigar by the window with the curtain tightly closed. An episode of The Twilight Zone was on the TV, and it was the only light but for the golden glow from the bathroom in the hall. On the table next to him was a razor blade on a mirror with white powder residue, a shot glass empty of its Jim Beam, and a handgun.
There had been an ugly landscape painting on the opposite wall, but he took it down to make room for his work. There was a big cork board there now, a place for all of the information he had on you and your little biker friends. Steve’s mugshot was up there, along with one of Eddie from 10 years earlier. Information on Wayne, Katie, the Velvet Hammer, every person or place you’d touched since you’d been to town. Somehow you’d slipped through his fingertips, and oh god, how he had missed you. Being a part of your life and knowing what you were up to was a part of who he was now, and he’d been feeling lost without it.
He planned use his connections to get in with Chief Hopper and make sure your new biker boyfriend had the law down his throat around every turn. Why was it so much to ask for you to let him love you? Your house was a mess, your bed not even made. Nothing in your drawers had been folded. It was obvious that you needed him and missed him and just didn’t know how to ask. You had always been such a prideful, silly goose.
A girl named Shari was working the night shift at the motel when she noticed, not for the first time, how odd the guy who checked into room 11 was. Shari happened to be the old lady of a Coffin Kings member named Jester, and she would tell him all about it, including the make and color of the SUV he drove, over the phone when he called to check up on her that evening. Coincidentally, War Machine had just let everyone know to keep an eye out for a creep of the same description who was stalking his girl. Jester headed over to make sure Shari was okay and waited in the shadows near the truck stop on his chopper, watching the lights from the TV flicker in room 11, keeping an eye on this guy so he could follow if he took off. Keeping him in his crosshairs to see if he should take care of this guy himself before he passed the word on to Eddie.
PART 14
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At first, Josephine had tried the best she knew how; but she swiftly realized that she knew nothing of this life. Zelda and Giorgio spent nearly every moment from sun-up to sun down tilling, planting and attempting to harness water. They had tried to explain the basics of their attempts, but any time she tried to help she could see that they spent more time guiding her than actually working, and the moment she got out of their way their work went noticeably faster.
Yet it wasn’t just farming. Everything about this life was more difficult than she could have imagined, beyond anything her mother and her life had ever prepared her for. Foodstuffs only came in the most basic ingredients, electricity was sparse when it worked at all, and they were in a constant struggle to conserve water and fend off drought.
She felt like everything she did was in someone’s way, or that it would need to be redone by someone else as soon as she finished; even worse, she often found that she had no idea where to begin, and she would have to ask Zelda and Giorgio for help, taking them away from their work as their words of guidance began to sound more and more belittling to her ears.
So she decided that she couldn’t stay on the farm any longer, pretending to be something that she wasn’t and muddying everyone else’s attempts to make their lives better. She had to do something to contribute, to make herself feel worthwhile and valuable again.
As she put on her clothes from New Orleans and her mother’s jewelry she could feel herself coming alive again, settling into the trappings that made her feel like who she was, and who she wanted to be. She would find something, anything that would make her fit in in this foreign place.
But her attempts didn’t last long. She walked the streets to whispers, some of them about their own doomed situations, others about the well dressed stranger who had the gall to walk their town rouged and powdered. A city slicker, a foreigner, a threat in turbulent times.
I read about girls like that. In town from the route to peddle themselves and move on, can you believe it? It’s a shame, really, but I mean look at her, what else would you expect?
She would try to smile at them, to form some sort of social circle, some beneficial connections like those she had known in New Orleans, but then their sneers only intensified and made it clear that no amount of charm would make her welcome among them.
Again and again, they turned down her friendliness, they whispered about her in front of her face. Only she wished that was all, she wished that it was only about her. It was nothing that she hadn’t heard before, nothing that hadn’t been whispered about her back in New Orleans. No, it was the whispers that had nothing to do with her that hurt the most.
I simply don’t know how we’re going to feed the children. Then with another one on the way. We’re doomed, truly. I don’t know what to do.
My sister lost her farm, up in Oklahoma. Her husband said he was off to California for work but it’s been months. I told her he isn’t coming home but she’ll starve if he doesn’t.
You should have seen them, sick like it was tuberculosis, but no, it’s the dust. It will kill them, I’m sure of it, in their lungs that way. But it’s death there or death in California. What of it? What can we do?
Whispers. More whispers. The intel that she didn’t want, the information she had most feared. For years she had scoffed at Giorgio’s predictions. I’m telling you, Jo. My father’s even moving the business. It’s going to be ugly. We have to do something, anything. We need a plan.
Nonsense. There was too much fun to be had, too much music and too much life. But now she didn’t even need to hear the whispers to know it had come true. The line of beggars and unemployed seemed endless, and as she walked by them she realized that she was but a few steps from where they were. Because the whispers were right, she was a fallen woman, one of many who now hovered around the shopfronts like ghosts. Women with no skills other than their smiles and their charms, women doomed to repeat their pasts as the world crumbled around them.
She knew that they were right, the whispers. She didn’t belong here, and she never would. But there was nowhere left to go.
#1930#sims 4 historical#ts4 historical#ts4 decades challenge#sims 4 decades challenge#sims 4 legacy#ts4 legacy#sims 4 story#the darlingtons#1930s#josephine duplanchier#zelda darlington#giorgio mistretta
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The weirdness of high school.
And university too maybe.
Plus or minus med school. But not residency.
Watching THis is Us and other bingeable shows recently.
There's a lot of flash backs and flash forwards in the show.
There's the high school ones, which like all TV shows is very stereotype'd. They go to an alumni event, and the nerdy girl now surgeon is estactic to hang out with the former football star/cool guy. Who is very thick.
I was a super weird, nerdy, socially awkward kid. Afraid of a lot of social things, but not afraid of science, history anything academic or what I looked like. I wore oversized sweats all day everyday. I never knew how to say the right things or act in a crowd. I hated crowds. 2 or 3 close friends was great, and the best I could muster. I was terrified of their parents.
But funnily enough, I never knew I was weird. I wasn't unhappy either.
I liked having 2-3 close friends, nothing more or less.
Then close to graduation, one of the guidance counselors (the non-crazy one) said to me, she didn't have a great high school experience either. But it gets better after high school. I'll see. It took me years as a teenager to understand what she meant.
Later on I realized that other people felt sorry for me. Thinking because I didn't have the stereotype of the great high school experience I was some how sad, ashamed, unhappy.
Ironically I never even thought about it and was actually happy in my own world and space. I had my separate universe in academics. Like it never dawned on me that I was missing out on anything.
I felt embarassed, in a strange way as an adult reflecting on those experiences. Slightly embarassed for me, but more embarrassed for the small town/city around me. I did not fit in that place, but I didn't know it either back then or didn't care to. We were very much ships passing in the night. I didn't and don't hate where I grew up, I actually loved it in my own way. I got a great education there, and it got me where I wanted to go.
Looking back, plenty of kids probably made underhanded mean comments or passive aggressive statements - but it all went over my head. I suppose I would have been unhappy, had I read between the lines back then. Someone even stole my math text the week of the math exam, but I was actually flattered. That hey, someone thought I was that smart (imposter syndrome starts when you're young). It was one of the best days of my life.
It was also hilarious to me then, that stealing the text of one of the nerds during exam week would sabotage anything - because they spend their entire free time studying the whole year. They don't cram. Cramming was a terrible habit I acquired in university/undergrad. In med school, I'd fail exams because I crammed.
Another time I had left my draft math home work in a common room table, a classmate told me (2 weeks after the fact) that 5-6 different kids grabbed it and copied it. unfortunately for them, it was a draft full of errors, so I completely disregarded as trash. the final copy I submitted with the correct formulae was substantially different. Our math teacher of course realized that everyone had the same errors, but couldn't figure out the source. No one ever said anything mean or confronting, so it wasn't hard to brush aside. they self-sabotaged themselves, nothing actually happened to me.
Again, it was like we lived on different planets. Had they asked, I probably would have helped them out, I didn't get the grades I got by myself either. My far smarter co-nerd friends taught me a lot. On the other hand, I was intensely shy, they probably interpreted it as being "aloof." Or worse, condescending.
I'd felt my entire time during school, that it was the path to something else. I wouldn't get there till about 10-15 years later. Maybe even 20. It was a means to an end. If I was going to be working, then I wanted that work to have meaning. Or what would the point of all those hours. My parents worked in jobs they grew to hate to just go home and be tired.
Med school was a bit like high school.
After the first few months of first year, i spent most of it hiding from other med students. (They were fucking crazy, a good chunk of them although not all, the anxiety, stress, competitiveness, the back stabbing, entitlement and bravado --> by the way, people do mature and get better. of course not all them do. anyhoo).
It was after selecting a vocation and starting residency that I found "home." Where I suddenly was comfortable having more than 2-3 friends and happy to be in crowds. Because everyone in the crowd was pretty much like me. We wanted to talk about all the same things. Maybe I grew more comfortable in my own skin along the way too.
But you know, it wasn't me that need to grow and change. I had found the environment where I finally could be myself in.
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hey! so, I want your opinion on soulless!sam, because I think jared did a great job playing this other version of sam
Soulless!Sam was a great character. I loved that in the beginning of season 6, he wasn't just acting as a SoullessSam, he was acting as SoullessSam faking being the real Sam for Dean, and there were many times where he almost but not quite convincing pull it off. Speaking as someone with a theater background, I was impressed with how Jared pulled it off as I wouldn't know how to approach that role. Often actors play the fake character fully as if they are the real character until the ta!da reveal.
First, what is a soul? In the SPN-verse, the soul is the person’s self. We’ve seen the souls of Dean, Sam, and Bobby in Heaven and Hell and they appear to be no different from themselves on Earth. What makes up the self is the conscious, subconscious, and emotion, which I like to call the trinity.
When we see soulless people on the show, they give into their worse impulses because there were no trinity to hold them in check. Some feel free once unshackled of their soul, some shackle themselves to prevent hurting others, some make the cold calculation for the "greater good", and others rely on people they admire for guidance. When Sam, Donatello, and Jack lost their souls, they cycle through those four reactions.
SoullessSam felt he became a better hunter when unshackled by a soul, but he also let Dean get turned into a vampire and killed Robin to take way the monster's leverage. Skill and rationality does not necessarily make for a great hunter. It has to be a balance between knowledge and the heart in order to make the best possible decision under the circumstances. Sam is all about the heart and always listening because he wants to help. SoullessSam has no heart and only listens to figure out how to mathematically come to the best scenario, though without taking in the value of an individual life.
SoullessSam's worst impulse was to tell the truth without softening the blow because he no longer feels the love (or guilt or shame) towards Dean or others. But without emotion, Soulless Sam can't make decisions for himself because all arguments are equal; emotions are the tie breakers. Dean recognizes this when he saw how blindly SoullessSam followed their grandfather's order. Then Sam left their grandfather to follow Dean even when he knew that Dean's endgoal for him was not in his best interest.
I was sympathetic for SoullessSam because he lived and experienced life, he's a fully sentient being and none of us could really blame him for trying to protect himself from being resouled, as he knew it would mean his death. In the end, Soulless Sam wasn’t evil, he just didn’t care.
.
Though SoullessSam said he did not love Dean, he still fell right back to the codependency pattern due to a lifetime of being brothers. It was basic Sam actually guiding Soulless Sam, not Dean. Sam has always taken responsibility for his actions (as those of others). Soulless Sam had access to all of Sam's memories, including his "it doesn't matter what you are, it only matters what you do" creed. It would have made sense for SoullessSam to adopt the creed that seems to be the heart of Sam's motivation and used it as his guide. And it can be reasonably argued that Soulless Sam is proof of Sam's inherently goodness. With Sam's memories and skills, SoullessSam could have done whatever he wanted and leave a trail of destructions. Instead he returned to the family business of hunting things and saving lives, despite the flawed execution of it.
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A Bracelet - [M.M.]
Pairings: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader
Summary: Reader and Matt’s first kiss
Word Count: 2.9k words
Content: Swearing, drinking, fluff
( Masterlist )
A/N: This is my first time writing for something not TASM!Peter Parker so please be gentle. This is not very good but it’s enough and I wanted to get it out there.
You owed your life to Mathew Murdock, Foggy Nelson, and Karen Page. Karen was able to track you down as a potential target for Fisk. You worked at a firm, and much like her, you came across something you weren’t supposed to see. She brought you to the office and introduced you to the two people who would help in the fight for your life.
And fight they did, hell they won! Hell’s Kitchen: washed by hallowed hues at the death of Fisk’s control. Children were out playing in the summer heat, and you could, once again, sleep at night.
Word got around that Nelson and Murdock were the ones to bag him, and since then, the office has been booming. As secretary, you helped each person fill out forms before handing the list of clients to Karen so the boys could go over them.
Matt was quite the charmer. It was a well-known fact. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been playing into it. Matt was passionate and fiercely loyal. You were honoured that he felt your situation demanded such responses. Matt was also kind and truly empathetic. He was funny and seemed to anticipate your every need. He knew when you needed tea or food or just a friend.
You had a close call with Fisk a few months ago. Some of his men grabbed you off the street to get information from you. It was terrifying, and you were still healing from the torture you endured. The next day you stalled, organising files instead of leaving the office.
Matt seemed to know what you were doing and allowed you to get away with it for a while. Lost in a sea of manilla envelopes, you almost missed him clearing his throat. You argued back and forth on whether or not you should leave the office, and just when you thought you had won, he struck a deal.
“I won’t make you go home, you can stay with me, but you should get some rest.” You took his hand and prayed he didn’t notice your shaking fingers as you guided it to your arm. The whole walk, Matt made you laugh and held you close. That night you realised just how deeply you cared for him. While he treated your wounds, both physical and mental, you realised you had fallen for him.
It was Friday night and Foggy had run off to the bathroom, alcohol always ran right through him, and Karen had stepped away to take a call leaving you and Matt alone at the pool table. You were terrible at pool, and it made you feel better to know someone here was almost as useless at it as you. You leaned against your cue, watching Matt try and line up a shot with no guidance.
You giggled as he gently knocked an orange ball with his cue. He quickly grabbed it and patted around the green velvet to find another ball. “You know, it’s not nice to laugh at a blind man trying his best.”
He lined up a shot against two pool balls in a random direction. “I’m not laughing at a blind man. I’m laughing at my friend- who happens to suck at pool.”
A discernible clinking sound rang through the bar as a slew of pool balls bolted in all directions. “Well, from what I can tell, you suck too.”
A purple four bounced its way into a pocket but you were too lost in Matt’s smirk and dimples to care. He just looked so pretty leaning over the pool table, muscles pulled taut under his dress shirt and teeth gleaming in the dingy lighting. You took another swig of your beer, feeling yourself flush the longer you looked.
Matt walked around the table, now in front of you. He looked just over your head, probably not realising how close you were. “So far, only one of us has scored.”
You scoffed, a small smile finding its way onto your face.
“Technically, it doesn’t count because you didn’t hit it off the cue ball, you hit it off of a different one. Furthermore, you’re stripes and you pocketed a solid so Karen and I get that point.”
Matt brings his head down and you think for a moment that maybe he can see you. The thought makes you nervous. Would he like what he sees?
“So either it counts as your point or not all? Now it seems you’re trying to take advantage of a blind man.”
He was leaning forward, a hand in his pocket, levelling your gaze. You were trying not to choke in the stuffy room. He was entirely too close and you wanted him closer. Unfortunately, your body was frozen, trapping you in this paradox of proximity.
“Not a blind man,” you repeated your words from earlier, “my friend.”
Just then, Foggy returned, pulling you two apart. You told him about the point you had earned and he argued the defence of his “client,” making you laugh. The night passed on with tremendous smiles and total glee.
It was getting late and you were reaching your limit. Foggy had a rule, “If the beer starts tasting good, quit while your ahead.” And you had to admit, the warm barley notes were starting to hit the spot. Karen had similar concerns and Foggy offered to walk her home. You didn’t miss the wink he sent you when leaving you alone with Matt. You tried to level your wavering voice before calling out to him.
“Let’s call it a night, yeah? Come on, I’ll walk you home.” You moved to link your arms, but Matt’s hand found yours before you could. His hand on your wrist, stopping you from holding his arm.
“No, it’s okay. I can make it home just fine. It’s late and I don’t want you walking these streets alone.” You rolled your eyes, then chuckled as you told him you just did so.
“Look, I’ll walk you home and take a cab back. You only live four blocks away.” You watched as Matt’s jaw twitched, almost as if he were chewing up his thoughts. Your favourite side smile soon came to view and you knew you had won.
You walked with Matt down the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Well, you skipped and jumped and jived while Matt strolled down the street. Your heart felt so light, you couldn’t help but fall into a jovial nature, not when Matt was smiling at you like that.
“Dance with me, Murdock!” You grabbed his hands and he laughed.
“I don’t know if I’m any good,” He warned you.
“You don’t need to see to dance.” You placed a hand over his heart, “Dancing is a feeling.”
He folded up his cane before reaching out to you. You led one hand to your waist and took the other in yours. You began to step and Matt stumbled as he tried to follow along. You were both giggling at his failed attempt at dancing but you refused to give up.
“Here,” You scooted closer until your shoes knocked his. “Put your toes on my feet, then you can feel when I move.”
He did as you said and you looked up at his face. He was so close, you wanted to run your hands through his hair, to trace every line and fleck of colour. His head was turned down to his feet and you studied every follicle and pore, committing him to memory.
“Okay, I’m ready.” He spoke so softly as if scared to startle you. You cleared your throat, hoping it might also dissipate some of the thoughts running through your brain. You began moving to a simple waltz, humming a song as you slowly move your feet.
Matt was catching on and in a moment of courage, he stepped away from your feet and continued to dance. His steps were more sure as he began to pick up speed, taking strides down the sidewalk with you. He pushed you out into a spin before pulling you back in and giving you a dip.
Your laughter rang through the paved streets and past the street lights guiding you home. He pulled you back up and you were once again at a loss of breath. Matt’s smile was blinding even in the late night hours. His arms were wrapped around your waist, firm and sure in their grip.
He pulled away making your brain feel fuzzy. He grabbed your arm again, and you brought your hand over to rest on his in the crook of your elbow. The rest of the walk was quiet, you spent the time deep in your head. Matt insisted on waiting until you were safe in the cab before he went inside and you watched him in the warm orange glow as you drove off.
Friday night, once again. Josie’s was just as loud as always, the peculiar patrons crowding in for the same warm beer and cheap drinks as you. And they were pouring freely as laughter rang through the air. The four of you shared from a pitcher of beer that sat in the middle of the table.
You and Foggy had a rapport that everyone enjoyed. You see, Foggy would pour himself some more beer and then he would go to pour you some, but you would raise your hand and tell him, “I’m okay, thanks.” But Foggy would just cock a brow at you before saying, “I insist”. Who were you to argue that?
This system made sure everyone stayed decently drunk and happy. You were very happy, actually. Your favourite people were surrounding you in your favourite place. What more could you ask for? Matt switching seats with Foggy when he went to get another pitcher was an excellent addition. As was the way his hand continuously brushed against yours on the table.
Some pool and friendly banter later, it was time to leave Josie’s once again. Karen and Foggy left first like they always do. You began cleaning up around the pool table, trying to stall, not quite ready to leave.
“Hey, can I walk you home?” Matt’s smile was small but kind. You nodded, making your way around the table to link arms.
“I assume that’s a ‘yes’.” You laughed as you confirmed his thought.
As you walk down the empty street, you feel your heart pounding in your chest. You really like Matt. You had a plan in your head, and you knew you needed to act on it tonight or you never would. You instead focused on explaining every funny sign you saw on your way to your apartment. The walk was shorter than you expected it to be. You weren’t quite ready to leave Matt just yet. You saw the entrance to your apartment complex and sighed.
“What if we just kept walking? I mean how would you know if we’ve made it yet?” Matt let out a low chuckle.
“I have your address saved. I would just pull it up on my phone.” You laughed along, stopping in front of the steps.
“I guess you’re right.” You stood in front of Matt as he leaned on his staff, his folded hands supporting his chin. You scuffed your shoes against the cracked sidewalk, working up the courage to say what you had rehearsed in the shower every day for the past week.
Just as Matt was about to open his mouth, probably to ask what your deal was, you spit out, “Hey, I uh…I made you something.”
You face palmed and started mouthing criticisms to yourself. “What is it?”
Matt was smiling, thoroughly enjoying your awkward attempt at conversing. You reached into your back pocket and pulled out the braided materials. “It’s a bracelet.”
He made no effort to open his hand to you. Instead, he dropped his smile and steeled his face. That all-familiar twitch in his jaw showed more stress and concern than joy.
“I um-I used to make a lot of those friendship bracelets as a kid and I just...thought I should make you one. But then I remembered you can’t really see colour or patterns so I had to get creative. I uh-I used my shoelace and some duct tape.”
Matt did nothing to end your rambling. He listened intently to your words, your pulse, your muscles tensing, feeling the change in your body temperature. You waited patiently for his response, but when none came you continued.
“If you don’t want it that’s fine. You don’t have to take it. Actually, it’s kinda stupid, never mind. I shouldn’t have-” He could hear your fingers fumbling as you went to put it away.
Matt put his hand in front of you, palm outstretched. “No, You absolutely should have. Thank you.”
You tentatively place it in his palm and watch his face carefully as he turns it over in his hands. His smile seems more forced than before. “I love it, thank you.”
“You already said that.” You chuckled, trying to bury your embarrassment.
“Well, it bares repeating. Thank you, (Y/n).” You searched his face for any indication that he was lying, but you couldn’t find any.
He pulled on his sleeve before extending his arm to you, the bracelet pinched between his fingers. “Will you put it on for me?”
You tried to calm your breathing as you fastened it around his wrist, checking that it wasn’t too tight or loose. You started to pull away when he opened his palm to you again. You pinched your eyebrows in confusion at the gesture.
“That’s my subtle way of asking if I can hold your hand.” You cover your mouth, chuckling, “I would really like to, but I didn’t really wanna risk messing that up.”
You place your hand in his palm, and it feels so warm. His skin is rough and calloused. You feel so small in his grasp. You brought your other hand up to trace along the new jewellery on his wrist. There was quiet again but in a different way. This was peaceful, this was…right.
“Thank you, (Y/n). This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever given me.” You fought back a laugh.
“I’m sure that’s not true, but thank you all the same.” Matt turned his head, directly facing you and took a step forward. You couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but you were sure he was staring right at you.
“(Y/n), You made me a bracelet. You made me a bracelet with things that remind me of you. You made me a bracelet that I don’t have to see to enjoy. You put so much thought into this.” You felt your cheeks flush as he spoke.
Sometimes Matt’s direct observations are funny, but it was less humorous when aimed at you. “It’s nothing, really. It’s not a big-”
“Don’t finish that.” Matt cut you off, taking another step closer. “Don’t say it’s not a big deal. It’s a huge deal. It’s a massive deal to me.”
You nod your head, not sure how to respond. You feel his hand release yours before his fingers slowly graze up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. They move past your shoulders, and you can’t stop the shiver that runs through you when he brushes up your throat.
His hand finally stops on your cheek. Soon his other hand is on your face as well. You closed your eyes as his fingers danced over your skin, tracing your brow bones, the arc of your nose, and the curve of your lips.
“You’re beautiful.” It was a simple statement. He stated it as fact, something undisputable. You decided to push your luck.
“And how would you know? You feel a lot of beautiful people lately?” He chuckled as his fingers continued to trace along your skin.
“Nah, just the one. Though, I definitely thought they were beautiful long before now.” Now it was your turn to laugh.
“Oh yeah?” Matt stilled his fingers, resting his hands on your cheeks.
“Yeah, when they first came into the office, they were terrified, and rightfully so. But instead of running away, they went headfirst into the flames. Without their help, I would have never caught Fisk. They were so brave and kind. They never treat me any differently because of my blindness, but still keeps it in mind. They’re very witty, calls me out on my shit. I’m very fortunate to have them in my life, in any way they’ll have me.”
You rested your hand on his wrist, the feeling of duct tape and a shoestring brushing your fingers stoked a hopeful flame in your heart. You leaned into his touch, soaking in the words he said. “They sound like a lucky person.”
Matt beamed at you, “No, I’m the lucky one.”
His thumb moved to trace your lips again, and he felt your small gasp against the pad of his finger. “Can I kiss you?”
He felt your head move under his hands as you nodded. He brought his lips to yours, and you thought you might fly away, become one with the stars. He took your top lip first, before coming in again to get your bottom one too. You were trying to avoid cliches, but it was as if he existed to kiss you. His lips fit perfectly with yours. Every time he started to pull back, you would chase him, and he would return each time with just as much passion.
Matt was quite the charmer. It was a well-known fact. You would be lying if you said you didn’t love it.
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If your name is stricken through I couldn't find your tag
#rancid writes#daredevil#matt murdock#human disaster matt murdock#marvel#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock fanfiction#daredevil x reader#daredevil x you#daredevil fanfiction#reader insert#Matt Murdock#Matt Murdock fanfic#Matt Murdock fluff#daredevil smut#daredevil fluff#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#matt murdock imagine#daredevil imagine#daredevil netflix#marvel daredevil#charlie cox#charlie cox imagine#matthew murdock#matthew murdock x reader#matt murdock x y/n#daredevil x y/n#marvel imagine
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What 2023 taught you? {A Nostalgic Hit!} 🎯👀
Pick A Pile Reading
(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)
Hey, Senstea Souls!
Welcome to another collective reading. Here you'll get a glimpse of the year 2023 and what it taught you. Also, a tip for 2024 is given at the end of each pile. I hope you find the reading helpful!🤍
Please DM me for personal reading.
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A Nostalgic Hit! + One Line Guidance For 2024
Pile 1
Tarot Cards- King of Wands, The Wheel of Fortune, 10 of Pentacles, Page of Wands, The World, 5 of Pentacles
Animal Spirit- Beaver
Well, pile 1 I see that this year has taught you to come out of the cyclical nature of your mind. This year taught you to be more focused and detail-oriented. It showed you intricate details especially when you were struggling. At the beginning of the year, you were okay with being in a box, in your own tiny space. But the scope for your growth became stagnant. You may have had anger outbursts. The dream you had somehow shattered because a new dream was emerging. You were coming out of your cocoon. Achieving goals became impossible to imagine. But you were divinely pushed to have hope and keep believing in the impossible even though it seemed delusional. And as the year started to approach its end you started to see some clarity. Without knowing you become the master at what you do. Something didn't work out the way you wanted it to but it worked out completely different from your imagination. Some of you may also have felt stuck in family dynamics and now I see healing in that area. You fought so many battles within a year. You broke more than one cycle this year. Wow! You were being prepared for the ultimate abundance that you deserve. Something in your DNA needed to be changed. Something significant happened during April, May, and August. No matter what you did you found yourself coming out of one circle to entering into another one. But now this cyclical process is over! You did it! You learned the importance of planning and understanding life as a whole. You learned the true value of actions and what's the best way to make long-term plans work. Some of you were looking for financial stability which impacted you emotionally. But now I see you are almost out of the lack phase and are entering into the phase of abundance.
One line tip for the next year:
Tarot Cards- 4 of Swords, 3 of Pentacles, Knight of Cups
Don't settle for breadcrumbs or stay in a relationship more than you should. (Strong Earth energy I can sense.) There's a soulmate out there waiting for you to come out of the relationship trauma.
Get your 2024 blueprint and be extra prepared for what's coming. (With Remedies/Recommendations)
3 Months- $10
6 Months- $20
9 Months- $30
12 Months- $40
DM me to book your reading!
Pile 2
Tarot Cards- Temperance, The Hierophant, 7 of Cups, 6 of Pentacles, 8 of Cups, The World
Animal Spirit- Owl
Hello, my dear pile 2. I see that 2023 taught the true meaning of give and take. It taught you how to balance. It taught you that you too deserve to receive love and effort. It taught you to walk away from anything that is not helping you grow or relationships that are keeping you stagnant. You learned the truth of selfless service. You can discern better when it comes to your emotional mind. Now you know what being at peace truly means. Something major might have happened around August. Perhaps, you found the courage to let go. You've freed yourself from always being in your head. You have learned so much that now you are capable of guiding others. You are finally gaining the light that shines within you. For some of you, I feel as though you have understood relationship and friendship dynamics pretty well there's still something lingering around that you need to deal with. There's something you still can't let go of or stop wishing for. There's a wish that you are attached to and you need to let go of the attachment. As soon as you become happy without the idea of having it you'll see it coming. This year brought you closer to spirituality but you still have a long way to go. I hear, “August slipped away like a bottle of wine 'cause you were never mine.” For some of you, I see that somewhere you still hope for someone to change. Perhaps, somewhere deep down you are pretending that you are over someone but you truly aren't. This year taught you a lot in terms of relationships and I hope you carry forward the lessons into the next year as well.
One line tip for the next year:
Tarot Card- Death
A spiritual transformation is coming your way. You may need to let go of something that might hurt you but it will be needed.
Get your 2024 blueprint and be extra prepared for what's coming. (With Remedies/Recommendations)
3 Months- $10
6 Months- $20
9 Months- $30
12 Months- $40
DM me to book your reading!
Pile 3
Tarot Cards- Queen of Pentacles, 8 of Swords, 6 of Swords, 5 of Cups, The World, King of Pentacles
Animal Spirit- Hyena
So my dear pile 3 I sense some conflict between your divine counterparts (Divine Feminine and Divine Masculine). Some of you may be questioning your identity. You thought you were over something but then suddenly this year made you realize that there's more to this world and there's more to you. It was uncomfortable for you to accept yourself. For you, there was no way out of this misery. The problem is that you let the situations define you, and others' opinions define you. You didn't move based on your choice but you moved or made a decision based on what others perceive of you so that you still can be loved. You were or still are trying to prove something to the world. I hear, “You make me glow but I cover up won't let it show.” I am sorry to say but I see that there's a huge lack of self-love here. And you are still making peace with yourself. You are still learning to accept yourself. But the good news is that this tough cycle is about to end as the Capricorn season ends in January. Slowly but steadily you'll be out of this mess. You will find the courage to take the action. You need to. And you must. This year taught you what it looks like to see and feel the truth. It might have been uncomfortable but was necessary for your growth. You've suffered on the soul level and it's time that you take the right action and not what the world deems right.
One line tip for the next year:
Tarot Card- The Star
Deep down you wish to love yourself and that wish is coming true. Stay true to yourself.
Get your 2024 blueprint and be extra prepared for what's coming. (With Remedies/Recommendations)
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broken | c.s (final)
prev // series m.list
pairing: choi san x reader
word count: 13.5k
warning: nothing i can think of but lmk
"you did it once again!" arin squeaks, the excitement in her tone louder than the overwhelming joy you're feeling, only able to stare in awe at the sight before you.
your picture right under the employee of the month for the second time in a row.
"i guess i did," you reply, a confident smile resting on your lips as your chest drops in relief.
it took a lot of time and so much work in order for you to come around and accept the idea that you are good at what you do. that every compliment wasn't just because they pitied or felt bad for you, but because you genuinely deserved it.
it took even longer to come to terms with the fact that despite growing up the way you did, your youth filled with absent parents and a home and family with no love, you are so much more than that.
you are so much more than the traumas and broken pieces in your life, and you're not just a weak, timid girl with a haunted past and a wounded heart.
even if your parents didn't love you, and the only boy who you gave your heart to broke it, those things doesn't define you as much as the belief and faith you have in yourself.
all the sessions of sitting in your therapist's office, crying, spilling your soul and guts out, and trying to believe her when she'd tell you none of it is your fault, whether your parents or the romantic partners you had.
it's worth it because you came out so much better in the end, your mindset almost completely rewired to the point you can't believe how vulnerable you once were.
how, you used to believe every lies so easily, it flying over your head and always giving people the benefits of the doubt when they didn't deserve it.
always such a pushover and so fearful, unconfident at anything, it's hard to wrap your head around the fact you lived for almost nineteen years without medication or guidance when you were on edge and close to breaking down at all time.
but regardless, you did it. you got help and unlearned some, and then had to learn a lot so you could be the person you are today. no longer doubtful of yourself and your abilities, and unwilling to let just anybody step all over you.
it's that mentality that got you this far despite also still being the very same girl from five years ago who's still naive in some ways, and with so many more things to learn and overcome.
"y/n," arin calls, sneaking half her body into your cubicle with a stack of papers in her hold, prompting you to spin the chair around to face her.
"the team's going out to eat after work. it is our treat to you."
"sounds good," you reply, pleased by the offer you wouldn't ever deny. "see you in about 20?"
"yes." she bobs her head. "we're getting barbecue, by the way."
life had been an array of ups and downs, everything not always smooth sailing and hitting many bumps on the road here. from you and yuna joining hands together in making a children's book with her being the illustrator but unable to commit to the idea, to getting ignored or rejected the first 40 or so applications until someone finally found your resume impressive because you didn't want to just rely on other people.
no matter how good yuna's offer was, talking about how she could get you a position in her uncle's company and how bad you wanted to take it because it would've spared you the stress of having to search for a job yourself, you knew you couldn't.
you wanted to earn it and be proud it was through your own efforts.
the rejections humbled you in some ways, and made you stronger in others, stopping at nothing until you finally got the first email that you've been accepted by a makeup brand as their content writer.
the brand, velvetie, had only been out for about a year by the time of your employment and was still fairly small and experimental. now, the brand is known for their lines of lip tints that are labeled soft, smooth, and long-lasting by reviewers, the creations only getting more popular by days as it's just now being praised by actors and idols alike.
you didn't at all imagined this to be the job you'd wind up with, nor did you think you'd turn out liking it, the creative writing degree and your history speaking for itself, but you're happy where you ended up and happy to still be writing in general.
the marketing team you're in, a small but comfortable circle where you've come to love and grow fond of the people you're working with, sharing the same space for a few hours a day and understanding all too well the struggles of meeting deadlines or running into a creative dry spell.
arin, who you're closest to and have known the longest, is who you met in your last semester of sophomore year after making the mistake of taking calculus as an elective while she was taking it as requirement for her business major.
besides the obvious hatred for calculus the two of you shared, it was unusual how quick a friendship came to blossom, never in your life have you felt such a natural bond to anyone. not even mingi, you've already told that story countless times, how it took awhile.
but it was so easy talking to her, your reserved and hesitant personality the perfect one to her more outgoing and friendly nature, you two clicked instantly, it was crazy.
she not only became one of your best friends, but also a part of your everyday life.
"you're completely drunk," you comment, finally pulling your friend's butt off the seat when everyone else finally left.
she hurls out a groan and leans on you slightly, her alcohol breath incredibly intoxicating and is the sole reason why you often rethink the choice of saying yes when you hate taking care of a drunk arin.
"i'm good," she attempts to say but her words are slurred as she tries regaining her balance and striving a few steps forward but you're quick to assist her again because you know she's gonna fall.
"come on, let's get you a cab," you say at the same time walking out with her sluggish body, stopping just right outside the restaurant.
"no. let me go home with you."
you raise an eyebrow at your friend, her head on your shoulder and appearing unconscious but the response just now registering her more aware than you think, because you know the girl, and you know she won't ever pass up the opportunity to visit her boyfriend.
a few months ago when you finally made the big decison to move out after sharing a tiny apartment with mingi for over a year, you had no idea that the new place, a modern-esque two bedroom apartment, would be under the same building as arin's boyfriend, and just right down from the hall to be precise.
you've met him a couple times and of course, he's handsome and wonderful and treats her just right, but you definitely did not apartment hunt with him in mind, so what were the chances.
at least for arin, it made everything all more convenient. her boyfriend in one place and her best friend just two doors down as she'd hop from one to another like it's halloween.
but in spite of her protests along the shared ride because you also shouldn't be driving, your conscious tipsy, you tell the driver to pull up at her place, not at all concerned about the abandoned cars because you'll just pick it up tomorrow, with the restaurant and your workplace a walking distance.
"but the dinner tomorrow, you're still coming, right?" your friend turns to you, her lazy eyes squinting as she awaits an answer.
"yes. we'll talk more about it tomorrow."
you insist on helping her walk to the door, afraid she might hit the cement before she'll even make it, but she assures she got it. still, you watch through the window as she fiddles with the keys until unlocking and disappearing inside.
once you're home, all you want to do is hit the bed. maybe put on a show in the background and just doze off to it, but you have to wash off the sweats and grime of today; get cleaned up and dry before settling on your mattress comfortably.
the ding from your phone you've placed on the nightstand after going the entire day of being on silent is what grabs your attention, your neck snapping to the lit-up screen, checking the bundle of messages you missed out on.
4:43 p.m.
kwak yuna: guys! florence is so beautiful!
kwak yuna: *attachment*
song minGi: beautiful for sure, but would be even better in person 🙄
kwak yuna: i told you guys that we should take a trip and i'll pay for half of it, but y'all always too busy to do anything 🙄💅
song minGi: yeah cuz we have something called being poor & have to keep up with jobs and responsibilities. we don't have mommy's and daddy's limitless money to live off of
kwak yuna: stfu 🖕
song minGi: 😜
lee minJi: he's so jealous fr
song minGi: that, i am. i too wish i was in italy rn
jeong yunho: but we really need to catch up soon. how does seoul sound in about a month from now?
kwak yuna: i can do that. starting to really miss home anyways.
jeong yunho: yeah, me and minji can make a trip there as well
song minGi: sounds good to me. now, we just wait for the other two, which is gonna be a good few years
jeong yunho: y/n has her phone on silence during work
song minGi: and yeosang's too good for the rest of us
jeong yunho: pfft
you giggle and roll your eyes the entire time reading through it, checking the latest message that prompted the notification and seeing it was from yuna.
it only makes sense given it's probably still early for her because of the time zone difference.
9:51 p.m.
kwak yuna: no one cares but this is the outfit i'm wearing for today. it's almost 1pm and i'll be heading to the gallery soon.
kwak yuna: *attachment*
song minGi: you're right, no one cares
y/n: in about a month sounds good to me, and seoul sounds even better. i won't have to do any traveling lol. also @ kwak yuna the outfit is super cute! i love the beret! 💕 and @song minGi you're literally annoying 🥱
song minGi: omg jumpscare! she's here to yell @ me
y/n: yessir
kwak yuna: omg y/n! hi!!!!
y/n: hi 🤭
y/n: had my phone on silence and then went out with my coworkers after. but yes, i miss you guys a lot. let's crash at my place next time!
kwak yuna: yes! i'll bring the booze!
song minGi: make sure it's the expensive kind
y/n: that's it, guys. have to sleep. goodnight! 🌙
before you go to set the alarms and really turn off your phone for the night, you catch just a glimpse of mingi's and yuna's conversation, the brief mention of yeosang before it all turns to fun banters again.
of course, most of the works were because of your own efforts and determination in wanting to get better. but the process would've been so much harder had it not been for the friends and support by your side.
the ones who believed in you when you didn't even believe in yourself, and the ones who gave you words of encouragement one after another, and was just there for you through it all.
a few years ago, you didn't think it was even possible to be without mingi or yunho. without their guidance or assistance because then you'd feel so out of place, lost, and completely confused.
but now, you're cities apart from them, and is surviving and doing absolutely okay.
they were so happy when you told them about arin; how alike but also different you two are, and how comfortable everything is with her, because they could rest assured that when they were no longer by your side, you'd be in good hands.
but even if without arin, they had faith in that you could do it by yourself. you'd grown so much within the past years and had no doubts you'd be fine.
they knew they couldn't be with you forever. not all the time at least. eventually, dreams and ambitions will take one of you from the others until you're all in different places one day, and they wanted you to be ready for that.
and it did. yunho sooner than mingi because as soon as he graduated, he followed his heart and moved to busan with minji, his girlfriend, and has been there since.
mingi on the other hand, lived under the same roof as you for a little over a year, attempting to do something with his psychology degree and earn his teaching credentials before moving back to the quiet town to be closer to his parents. he missed them.
who would've ever thought that out of the three, you would be the one who chose to stay back in the bigger city of strobing lights, loud commotions, and a big population when you were anything but that once upon a time.
so you're all in different places.
not just mingi and yunho, but yuna also traveling the world just like she dreamed of. traveling the continents so she can see the beauty the world has to offer; replicate it in her arts and visiting galleries and museums for more knowledge and inspirations.
you're happy for her.
the only person still in town is yeosang, but even he's not entirely reachable, if at all. he's the least active in the group chat and you can't recall the last time you had a proper conversation with him.
he's incredibly busy, you understand.
last you heard, he's juggling the tech job he got during his senior year, along with his master's at seoul national.
you knew someone like yeosang was always destined for greatness and his current standing doesn't fall any short of it. that he was always meant to go to a competitive university and get offered a great job because he's truly gifted and exceptional.
unable to dwell on any more thoughts, you close your eyes and let the weight of today take over, falling into a deep slumber.
waking up and getting ready for work is a repetitive routine.
first, making yourself a nice cup of coffee before getting dressed up and doing your hair, grabbing all necessary files and anything essential before calling a cab because you left your car at the company's parking lot yesterday.
the company's building is mostly in white, the only splash of other colors is the logo in pink plastered right at the front for everyone to see as they enter.
you swipe your id card and head upstairs to your designated working space, surprise to see arin already at hers before you.
"morning," she coos, her early tone friendly as you pass by her cubicle.
"morning," you reply, voice still tired and drowsy to a point, but your friend's perfectly fine appearance has you questioning, "hangover?"
"nope." she shakes her head. "i'm surprisingly fine, and excited for the dinner tonight. i hope you haven't forgotten."
"i haven't, because you've only reminded me like 50 times."
she giggles, a satisfied smile on.
"okay, good. i'll see you during break."
~
"so what exactly is this dinner about?" you ask your friend, seated in the break room right across from each other, the question stopping her from shoving a sandwich down her throat.
the entire week of her bringing up the 'dinner' event and annoying you with it, she never emphasized on what exactly it means. and dinner in the presence of her boyfriend and his apartment, to be exact.
"i don't understand why you'd want to invite me? i mean, shouldn't you guys be spending time alone?" you add on, confused.
"shhh," she shushes you, index finger at her lips and swirling out an exaggerated sigh, "you don't need to know anything for now. just get dressed up and get pretty, okay?"
she ends it with a calming smile, diving right back into her food as you stare at her with daggers.
you swear, if this is another of her attempt at setting you up on a date, you're so not gonna forgive her for it. it will be the third time, to speak.
the third time that you'll have to explain to her why you're not interested and why it didn't work out with you being completely married to your job and just not ready for the next step.
that no matter how fun and exciting the idea of a double date and hanging together is, it is not a priority for you. at least for now.
nonetheless, you get ready, throwing on a casual enough off shoulder ruffle dress that still looks presentable and like you at least tried, along with a pair of flat sandals.
you think that maybe, there's a chance tonight you're all just gonna eat dinner, probably play a game or two after and even catch a late night movie because arin just wants to hang with her boyfriend and best friend.
that you've drilled it enough time in her head that you're not looking for a romantic interest for her to know to not try to persuade you.
a text from her telling you to come when you're ready is what gets you up from the couch, checking your hair just once in the small mirror before heading down the hall and placing two knocks at the door.
your body and nerves still calm one second, and suddenly the next when the frame comes apart to unveil the person behind it and standing before you, you second guess if you're at the right place and time.
if this is some alternate universe where you're seeing things, or if reality is really so cruel to put you through this.
you've come so far and thought you had conquered most of your fears and hauntings, but all it's taking for your palms to start sweating again and feet with the urge to run to safety, is one of your past showing its head and waddling back into your life.
he's as equally surprised and confused, staring at you like he didn't expect this as well, and time stretches on when you two just gawk at each other like a dramatic scene from a movie.
his appalled expression as his eyes enlarges is disgustingly endearing, and you hate the way your body reacts to it.
hate that he looks even better than the last time, his hair now more refined and there's something more mature and manly about his style.
he's in a suit and no longer looks like a college fratboy that enjoys breaking hearts just for fun.
hate that you haven't seen him in practically five years and everything still feels so familiar; all his features so instantly recognizable that you can still imagine the way his lips feel on yours, and how cute dimples would pop out of his cheeks when he smiles.
hate that everything's coming back all at once; when time used to stop and when it was still hard to breathe.
when a beating heart was usually followed by swarm of butterflies in your stomach that you haven't felt in years, and now the sight of him in front triggering the sensation once again.
and you hate the fact that no matter how much pain he had put you through, or how many times he had hurt you to the point you were so sure you were over him, there's a certain fondness you have for him and a special place in your heart that reacts with familiarity.
it feels like the world stopped spinning and everything in the background turning blurry just for the few seconds you two meet again for the first time, although it feels like forever.
"hey, y/n!" yeonjun's voice snaps you back, your gaze skipping over san's shoulder to your friend's boyfriend and you loathe it even more that none of it is a mistake.
that you didn't just happen to wander into the wrong apartment or something.
that the universe is really so unfair and cruel and setting you up for the worst by crossing paths with san again.
"come on in!" he ushers, his tone happy and excited the way you know yeonjun always is, him and your friend completely ignorant to the bubbling tension between you and the boy still standing before you.
you just nod in return, san moving out of the way awkwardly as you finally step in and roam the interior as if you haven't already seen it, trying your best to focus on anything else but the person raising the hair at the back of your neck.
the closing of the door is heard the same time yeonjun switches to introduce you to one another, and you both just humming and bowing with acknowledgement.
act as if this is the first time meeting each other. as if there isn't a history that played a signifcant part in shaping the two of you in becoming the people you are today, and now landing in this situation by some odd twisted fate.
arin and yeonjun just laughing off the awkward and bumbling exchange, brushing it off as no more than two strangers new to each other and moving it to the dining table.
"let's eat first. perfect opportunity to learn about each other," your friend speaks, and all that is going through your mind is which is worse: sitting next to san or across from him. you think the latter.
but the former isn't any better with arin and yeonjun watching the both of you like hawks, unaware that the reason you're both not speaking to each other isn't because of shyness or unfamiliarity.
but they do notice something isn't right; that there might another reason up in the air why the both of you can barely look at each other.
yeonjun with how bold and confident san tends to be, the boy always approaching everything so smugly. and arin in the entirety of knowing you, never had seen you look so tense.
she wasn't gonna do it at first. knows and understands how much you've been telling her it's never gonna work out, the two guys she connected you with from before ending in complete disaster.
but she just couldn't help it this time when her boyfriend started talking about his friend he met in the states finally flying to korea and will be staying with him for a couple of days.
and she especially couldn't help it when she learned he's not only incredibly handsome but also single.
she figured she was doing you a favor, but by the look of your face and body language right now, white in complexion like you just saw a ghost, she thinks you're totally gonna yell at her for this.
"i uhm, i gotta use the restroom," you speak up, lying through your teeth and san can't even blame you for it, honestly even relieved you're the one to initiate.
you wobble the entire way to the bathroom, your legs shaky and your stomach starting to become upset but your chest dropping slightly when you sit on the edge of the bathtub, glad to just be away.
you were doing so good. you were.
you hadn't thought of him in forever and now he just shows up out of nowhere, not even just as a stranger, but as the friend of your friend's boyfriend?
what sick joke is reality trying to play on you right now?
"y/n?" arin's sweet and concerned voice calls from the other side as you attempt to gather yourself to face your friend. tell her why you can't be here and make up something in hope you can leave.
"hey," you say lowly after prying the door open, a forced smile on your lips which arin doesn't buy into.
"you okay?"
"i'm alright. i just... don't feel so good right now," is your excuse, just praying she doesn't start questioning now, because you're not exactly in the time or place to explain everything between you and san.
all the heartbreaks and betrayals, and why you cannot stay here any longer or you'll really break.
"do you want to go home, or?" she's the one to bring up the idea, and you're thankful because you didn't want to be that person.
didn't want to have to break it to her and end the night so soon given how much she's talked about the day, and all the planning and preparation that yeonjun must've put in.
"yeah, i think it's best if i do," you answer, guilt present in your eyes, "i'm sorry i couldn't stay any longer. you guys probably worked hard on dinner."
arin snickers and shakes her head, the reassuring smile on her helps in dissipating some of the guilt.
"don't worry about it. you go ahead, i'll tell yeonjun."
she isn't gonna fight you on it. not when she's never seen you this way, coming off uneasy and absolutely troubled, she's gonna have to get down to the root of it tomorrow.
but for now, she just knows you need to be away.
you barely manage to make it to the door the stealthiest you can, bidding a weak goodbye to yeonjun and zooming out that instant, the frame shut right behind you and your shoulders dropping from the built up suffocation.
you proceed to your apartment, pushing past everything with a thumping heart until you're sitting at the edge of your bed, going on to do the one thing you always do when it's just all too overwhelming--
"mingi, you're not gonna believe this."
you can hear his protests of groans and sighs from the other side, so in character of him because this is usually his nap time.
"i just saw san."
the commotion is loud, the shuffling of body as he sits himself up and tries regaining conscious just to make sure he's not tripping out.
"you're forreal?" he remarks, sounding a lot more awake but still unconvinced.
"yes. he's yeonjun's friend and i don't even know how the fuck they knew each other or why he's here. all i know is arin needs to give up on trying to find me a date," you say in disbelief, recalling the last guy you went out with who left you feeling extremely disrespected and insulted after, and you thought the next one couldn't possibly be any worse.
"wait. so let me get this straight. you two met again because you're friends with arin and he's friends with yeonjun, and arin and yeonjun are dating?"
"yes."
"and yeonjun and you just happen to live under the same complex?"
"well, yes."
"what in the soulmate fuckery is this?"
"pfft," you scoff, throwing your head back into the soft mattress in frustration. "more like a curse. i was doing so good, it's been so long since i'd just... straight freeze up and chicken out, and that's exactly what i did."
mingi churns out a low hum, "no other way else to do it. what? you were gonna shake hands and play catch up with him? asked him what he did after he fucked you over and broke your heart?" he quips.
"well, no," you reply, reframing from growing irritated at your friend for his snarky remark during a time when your ovaries are about to explode. "i just thought i would've handled it a lot better. it's been five years and i haven't thought of him in so long, but one sighting of him and i'm already starting to question all the progress."
the recollection of earlier so vivid, you can almost feel the same sensation of shock and confusion as it numbed your entire body, just standing there like a little deer caught in headlights.
as if time throwing you back to the age of eighteen, still so easily starstruck and defenseless when it came to the charming boy who knew all the right things to say and do but never meant any of it.
who, told you right in the face he didn't want you--which was probably the only time he was being sincere.
last you heard, he had left the country. you didn't know where to exactly, but knew that he left.
you remember hearing about it from mingi the first time, that strange melancholy washing over at the news even though in theory, you should be happy.
mingi said he debated on telling you, having heard it from a friend of a friend, but succumbed eventually because he thought you would like to know, despite the pain and hardships san caused you, there's a part of you the revelation would bring relief to.
you won't have to worry or fret about accidentally running into him anywhere and go through that stage of grief all over again. and most importantly, it might in some ways, make the healing process easier.
"y/n," mingi snaps you out of it, that stern accent in his voice that indicates he's about to go off, "just because you're experiencing strong emotions again doesn't erase all of the progress you've made. you've seriously come so far, so don't undermine it."
"of course you're gonna feel some types of way at seeing san again. you said it yourself that he's someone special because he took so much from you. what matters is how you handle it now, and i know my y/n won't even give him the time of day or entertain his ass, right?"
you take in mingi's words and he's absolutely right. you're overthinking and giving yourself too little credits when you know that there's no way--
"right?! bitch, you better answer."
you roll your eyes.
"i love the faith you have in me," you say sarcastically.
"girl, i love you but that was a rough time."
because you lied and betrayed him the most during your time with san, and now, you just let him make all the jokes and snarky comments he wants. you're all over it.
"no but forreal that was actually kind of eye opening. if this teacher thing doesn't work out, you should totally go back and expand on that psychology degree."
he blows from the other line and you can picture an unamused expression on his face.
"nah, fuck that. i'm done with this school shit for life."
you let him ramble some more about why, no matter how much he enjoys the subject, the life and longevity of being a professional in the field just not for him (or the extra years of schooling) before he brings it back to the initial discussion once more.
and you promise that you won't fold so easily and pathetically ever again in the face of choi san.
you're familiar with how sometimes, by strokes of bad luck, you'd just be having shitty events happen one after another in a single day.
well, you're not gonna risk it and let it be this day, the top of your head peeking out to check the hallway before your entire body is scuttling into the elevator not taking any chances.
fate is already so cruel in placing the man who broke your heart and all, just a few doors down, and if it wanted to smack you right in the face with his chest or broad shoulders, it would've had you not left so quickly.
arin isn't there when you set foot into the office, her cubicle vacant and you continue to yours, sitting down to login and access your email, looking through the files the other team had sent of confirmed products that are soon gonna be launched and on the website a few months from now.
"good morning," your friend's greeting make you turn around, a sweet smile on her face like always, but yours still holding that same silently petrified expression of yesterday.
"hey."
her heels clink the carpet tiles walking closer, brows creasing into a look of sympathy as she asks, "you feeling any better?"
you nod, a barely audible hum leaving to accompany.
"should we talk about it? at lunch?"
because as much as you don't say, she knows there's something in your throat dying to just get out, and she's as equally curious to know.
"after work. we can grab something to eat."
you just don't think it's possible to summarize it all in thirty minutes; the history between you and san, and why you slightly want to pull her hair out because her boyfriend just has to be his friend.
it wasn't her fault, of course. but you're still kind of mad she tried playing cupid again and found the worst possible candidate.
you consider arin one of your best friends and she's told you on plenty occasions the same in return, but you did meet her after everything.
your fall from grace, that is, and quite possibly the lowest point in your life. so it just never came up, despite the impact it had on your growth, you didn't exactly expect you'd have to explain to her why her boyfriend's friend makes you want to hit your head against a wall.
"what? no way!"
your friend's embarrassingly loud volume echoes the whole restaurant and you have to deliver a kick to her leg under the table for the girl to calm with a light flush on her cheeks.
but you suppose there's no other way to react; finding out you too, were in love once and isn't completely the anti-romantic she was gonna write you off as.
"yeah..."
"i'm sorry. i truly am. from now on, i won't do it anymore," the girl swears, having seen it enough for herself at this point how her schemes despite having good intentions, always brings you the worst luck.
and though you've barely just scrapped the surface with san, your reactions were so strong when you saw him again, there's no doubt the guy put you through some fucked up shit.
"it's not like you knew or i ever told you, but yeah, it would be nice for you give up this whole matchmaking gig. you're horrible at it," you tease your friend, a laughter bubbling out when she rolls her eyes in response, quick to jump right back into asking questions.
"but you're okay now?"
"yeah. it's been years. just the shock of the first meeting in so long, i guess."
she nods, her mouth clamped shut because she does feel a little bad even if she didn't know, thinking the chances is crazy.
"he won't be here for long. as far as i know, it's only for a couple days until he finds a place or move elsewhere," she assures, bringing up what she heard from dinner last night because it might make you feel better.
"oh," is all that leaves, not that you're not relieved to hear it, but because there's something else you want to ask. questions lingering in your mind ever since 24 hours ago when you saw he was back.
it's not that you care, but it's really more out of curiosity.
"do you know how yeonjun and him met? or why he's back?" it slips out either way. but he could've been around for a while--the country at least, and last night was just when you so happened to see him.
"they met back in the states, when yeonjun was studying in new york. he haven't told me a lot about it either but i'm guessing it's something to do with his dance studio."
ah, so that's where san moved... new york.
"i see," you simply reply and leave it there, unwilling to ask any more or show the slightest interest in san's whereabouts even if you are intrigued because you know how much yeonjun lives and breathes dancing.
he even managed to open up his own studio, and you may not know a lot about san now or how much he's changed, but you remember his answer whenever you'd tell him to pursue his interest.
you never thought you'd see san and dance in the same sentence ever again.
you try to not let the threats of him distract you, but you still can't help but watch your back and surrounding everytime you leave into the hall, so fearful you're gonna smack or run into him and be left with nothing but the choice to face the ghost of your past.
you're not gonna let him have the power he once had over you, but that doesn't mean you're not dreading seeing him.
he's always been perfectly sculpted and too handsome for his own good, the last few years turning him even more menacing in terms of appearance, it's annoying if anything.
it doesn't have the same effect it used to, your eighteen year old self would've fallen to her knees and make an offering, but now, you can admit he looks good and just move the hell on.
but you still don't want to see him.
a few days of sneaking and hiding around like you're a spy in some undercover movie, you think you've officially lost your mind.
that maybe the universe's done enough damage and has taken a backseat, all your fear and paranoia all for nothing because there's no way you're gonna have to face san.
there's no way that on the day you finally decide to let your guards down and admit you're being overdramatic that you're gonna--
the sound of a door opening just as you close yours pick your head up in that direction, and out of every neighbors it could possibly be, of course it's san because why wouldn't it be?
he has a trash bag in one of his hands just like you and you can't help but to curse yeonjun's name for not taking out his own shit.
the world once again stops spinning and time stands still as both of your gazes burn into each other, his slightly hesitant eyes to your dull ones, just hoping he gets the fucking message.
that it's gonna be fucking awkward and since he still has his door opened, he can go the hell back in. act like this never happened because under any circumstances, you're not gonna talk to him.
you're also not gonna go back in now that it is what it is. you've already come so far and it's been years, it's about time you show than just tell.
show that he no longer has a hold over you and that you're not gonna cower like the once timid person you were.
you start by breaking the staring contest, straightening your posture and begin walking, not bothering to spare him another glance even as you pass right by him.
that it's more than enough signs and he'll just let it go. but it's san after all, and why would you ever expect him to do anything right?
"can we please--"
"--no," you cut him off so fast, his words more triggering than predicted and you can't really believe he's even trying.
"i know that--"
"i don't want to hear it!" you finally turn to him, all kinds of anger and disbelief coursing your face as tears threaten to pour and making your eyes red.
don't want to hear about the heartbreak and lies all over again; how and why you're not the one, and relive the miserable days once more.
"i don't care what you have to say because i don't want to hear it," you go on, voice and legs trembling but persisting nonetheless, "what happened between us is over. it ended, so i'd like it if you can keep it that way because there's nothing else to talk about."
and with that, you're walking away. you don't bother to wait for his response and you don't care to, but the silence protrudes until you hear the door shut behind.
~
"so you're not even a little bit curious in what he has to say?"
"no."
"or what he's been up to?"
"why the fuck would i be?"
"because you gave your pussy to him and he made your heart flutter like no others."
"what the fuck, mingi," you hiss into your phone, "weren't you the one preaching about not even giving him the time of day?"
"no no, of course, fuck that guy. i'm just saying that if he has something to say, aren't you just the slightest bit curious what it is? don't you want to hear about how pathetic and miserable he was during the time apart, or how sorry he is?"
you raise an eyebrow, replying with a perplexed but definite "no."
"okay, i'm proud or whatever," he says nonchalantly, and you can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not.
"there's no need to hear him out and even if he is sorry, i don't care. i'm over that shit and i'm over him."
"yes! so don't let me find out otherwise," he snarks, and you hate that he can't be serious for a second unless you two are at each other's throats and about to start yelling.
"you're annoying. bye."
you hang up, throwing your phone aside and eyes glued to the white ceiling that suddenly has such an entrancing pattern.
surely, you don't care. what he's been up to the past five years, or why he decided to come back.
there's also no reason to hear him out; the last conversation between the both of you more than enough to sum it up. he's hurt and used you beyond belief and that's that.
“i-i just feel like you never tried enough. maybe i’m not fond of who you are currently, but i could learn to–”
“please don’t make it any more harder than this, y/n. you don’t get with someone hoping you can learn to tolerate them… that’s not how it works.”
“you’re a nice girl, y/n. you really are so sweet, and i can see myself with you someday…” he says with a distraught look you will forever remember given how his words make your heart thump, only to then shoot it down, “but not right now…”
you cringe at how pathetic you were, so desperate for his reciprocation as if it was the sole thing keeping you alive and breathing.
but you've been fine and haven't moped about him in probably three years, so you will continue to be fine, whether or not you'll really hear from him, all the things he's been waiting to say.
"any plans for tomorrow?" you casually ask arin during break, your focus on the laptop and skimming through the drafts you've written, you don't catch the very moment she just freezes up tight-lipped.
"i'm going to see a movie," she answers.
"oh?" you nod it off, unsuspecting to the tension uprising and going on to ask in a cool tone, "what movie?"
it's not like you want to be invited; you and arin are perfectly fine being apart and doing your own things from time to time, but it's lunch and it's where you and her usually engage in topics and conversations of all kind just to pass time.
"the new superhero one." she lets a few seconds go by before adding, "with yeonjun."
you freeze in position then, though missing her nervous and anxious tone from before, it all makes sense.
she's gonna be with yeonjun, and with yeonjun comes someone else. she was afraid to bring it up; knows almost everything between you and san by now and knew you were most likely to reject the offer to go to the movie if he's gonna be there.
even if she loves going to the theater with you, the rants and comments after about what you both loved or hated the best part of the entire experience, but she was afraid.
"oh, i see," you dismiss, relaxed tone and a smile like it doesn't affect you. "heard lots of positive reviews about it, you guys are going to enjoy it for sure."
you try not to let the thought bother you for the rest of the day, but it does.
not of arin because you know she's sweet and kind and even asked again before she went home if you're okay with it, and you assured her you are.
she and yeonjun can't possibly cater to you and san just because you both happened to have some intertwined history they weren't even aware of beforehand.
no. you can't stop letting san fuck with your head. surprise?
can't stop overthinking and being spiteful that he was the one who fucked you over, yet you're the one having to accomodate while he's still shameless after all these years.
so he still has some effect on you, but you bet they're not the ability to summon butterflies or make you pink in the cheeks, maybe just red in the face.
because on top of learning to not let everyone step all over you, you also picked up on how to be a bit of a bitch. not your proudest accomplishment but a much needed one for survival.
you shouldn't have to step aside for him, tell him you don't want to talk, or run away as if he's the plague. it's been years, you said it yourself, and there's no reason to not hang with your friend or go see a movie you're interested in just because san is gonna be there.
you roll around in bed until landing in a comfortable position, eventually going to sleep with the thought.
~
"are you sure?" arin asks once again, the soft concerned accent in her voice.
"yes."
you've made your mind overnight, that you're not gonna run or cower. he no longer has ownership over you and you're gonna go see the movie.
"alright. if you really are sure, pick you up at four."
you get ready around three, do your hair and dress up a little just to look somewhat presentable and wait until there's a knock at the door, arin having texted thirty minutes ago you'll all be going in her car since the theater is closer to the complex.
somehow, you're not dreading or feeling even the slightest nervous at having to share a car ride with san or spend two hours at the cinema with him just a couple seats down.
when you do see him out in the hall, his freshly showered hair still wet and he has on a matching grey set of joggers and hoodie, his hands buried inside the pockets of his pants as he lasers you a look of surprise.
he didn't think you'd come because you most likely knew he's gonna go.
the ride down the elevator and most in the car thankfully drowned by arin's and yeonjun's constant chattering, talking like they're never gonna run out of topics.
but it makes the situation all more better and less awkward considering you're sitting in the backseats with san, but your attention out the window the entire time, mind either occupied with their conversation or the low volume music.
"y/n, i heard you got employee of the month again."
the call of your name pulls you away and to yeonjun's eyes as he looks over his shoulder before he blinks and turns back.
"ah, yes i did."
your friend has a habit of telling other people your business, but in her defense it's only because she wants to show you off since you're so great--taken by her word for word.
"arin's told me a lot about your writing," he casually adds, seconds before your friend starts doing what she does best.
"she's the best!" she squeals, and you have to hold back a snicker.
"how'd you get into it? your friend hasn't told me that part, shockingly," yeonjun says, amusement in his tone and taking the chance to tease his girlfriend.
"i--" you start but arin beats you to it.
"she started with a journal or notebook first, i think!"
you don't know whether to find it annoying or endearing, your eyes rolling but lips pulling into a smile.
"yeah," you let your friend have it, but the smile soon fading when you can feel the pair of eyes on you burning from the side, though you won't dare check it for yourself.
you also won't tell them why you started it in the first place, or how much the boy sitting next to you played a part in it.
"we're here!" arin announces, pulling into a parking space.
going to the movies also follows a routine; purchasing the tickets, getting a drink and popcorn if you're up for it, then going to find your seats.
san is seated next to yeonjun, and you next to arin, your eyes occasionally batting from the screen to your friend as she passes comments to her boyfriend when she'd have something to say about a scene.
the situation all too relaxing and calm, just exactly what you need for your mind to destress and just focus on what's happening; whether the characters' motivations or the great worldbuilding.
no need to worry about anything else, your stomach and chest still relaxed, nothing like the situation after the premiere that constricts the both of them as a wave of uneasiness wash over.
now regretting not following after your friend and just lying about having to use the restroom as well, because if you did, you wouldn't be stuck waiting in the hallway with san.
he's standing a feet from you, you can't really tell. but your gaze is nothing but trained on the restroom's doors wishing for either arin or yeonjun to finish fast enough.
but at least you're both kept company by the exit of other people leaving their auditorium, and the ones trying to find theirs.
you think you've done enough of a good job in letting san know you don't want anything to do with him, especially when it comes to compromising or making amends.
that he'd get it by now you don't even want to talk. after this, you both can go back to living separate lives and put on the act of not knowing each other the way it's been.
"congrats on getting employee of the month."
the voice makes you shudder, the reaction you want to give bordering annoyed and angry.
"i already told you i don't want--"
"i know. i know you don't want to hear any of it, and i won't try it now. but i just really wanted to tell you that because you deserve to hear it."
you fume through your nose, not wanting to have to look him in the eyes or give into his attempt at starting a conversation, but you can feel him looking you down, if the uncomfortable ting from the side of your face means anything.
"thanks, but i've heard enough from others to know i deserve it," you reply, your delivery sharp and straightforward, and san can't help but to smirk at that.
he knows he doesn't deserve to be heard; get the chance to explain himself and all the mistakes he's made because then it would be unfair to you.
calling them mistakes would be downplaying all the hurt and pain he's put you through, because at the time, it was his choice to make them. his choice to deceive and lie to you when he never had any sincere intentions.
he isn't proud of them, but that was who he was, and he owns up to the fact he was so horrible back then. undeserving of sympathy, affection, or being loved, and yet, you still gave him all three with your entire heart.
he can't say he deserves it now either despite some life altering decisions and soul searching, but he can say he's less of a shitbag to some extent.
still, your forgiveness is something he don't think he'll ever rightfully deserve.
another thing still the same is how much he likes everything about you, and seeing you again after all these years; after how much you've changed, he might like you even more.
no longer the soft spoken and afraid girl always holding back, but now with a sharp tongue and snippy attitude that speaks her mind.
who, different from the last time he saw you years ago, has on a new distinct style to complement the woman you've become--your hair always perfectly curled at the tips, your makeups more bold and edgy, and you don't shy away from showing any skin.
you walk around with more confidence without coming off arrogant, san still able to see the sweet and kind girl even through all the changes because that will always be who you are at the core--someone too easy to fall for and like.
"i have to apologize for the inconvenience, but just one more day and you won't have to worry about running into me anymore. i'll be staying somewhere else until i get approved for a place myself," he announces to utter silence, you standing there and not knowing what to say.
when the tense air stretches on, he speaks again, "also, i hope you'll be willing to hear my apology out even if just once. not for me and all my excuses, but because you deserve it. that's all."
you open your mouth, another dismissive comment about to slip about the wrath of being arin's and yeonjun's friends unavoidable but a buzz in the pocket of your jeans cut it short.
your eyes widen and lips pulled into an amused smile at the person who finally texted back, san catching the displayed name just right before you put it away at arin's return.
kang yeosang: hey, i'm so sorry for not answering sooner. i keep knocking out after school or work 🤦 but i'm doing great actually lol, and i hope you are too. would you like to meet up tomorrow? i'll finally be off and will have some time.
you've been here a couple of times, the cafe with a warm toned brown as its primary color, and menu and size two times bigger than the smaller one back at university.
you don't come often, but you do always feel welcomed. the aesthetics pleasing to the eyes and the staffs always friendly with warm smiles.
yeosang is seated at the corner, a small two person table, and his smile at the sight of you also makes you feel so warm.
"hey," you greet, pulling the chair as you take a seat.
"hey," he returns, unable to help the giggle that follows after, finding something so amusing about finally seeing each other again after four months despite being the only two still in the same city.
there's not a lot about him that has changed, except he's risen higher than any of you, but he's still just as handsome, welcoming, and obviously meant for bigger and better things.
but with yeosang, it is always so pleasant and safe.
in another reality; an alternate universe somewhere out there, you think yeosang might've been the one for you. even if he's too perfect for his and your own good, you'd come around to the idea that you do deserve someone like him.
someone who was such a mystery at first and had you believing he was the biggest asshole to walk the planet only to completely prove you wrong.
someone who showed patience time and time again that he was willing to wait, because he had so much love and sincerity to give if you were to accept his heart.
it was the perfect enemies or friends to lovers, and oh... it would've been so beautiful. it was quite close to the kind of fairytale love you always imagined; something too unrealistic and borderline delusional, but yeosang was real and ready to make it happen.
you never did give him your heart, though there was no rejection or denial. it just happened...
he waited for you, never pushy or pressuring, always so understanding of the fact you were healing and needed time. admitted to having a 'little' crush on you and whenever you were ready, you could consider.
you kept it in thought, then a month turned into three, and three turned into six, then a year, and suddenly you realized you had put it on the back burner for two years already.
it's not that you didn't like him. of course you like him, but you just weren't sure if you liked him like that.
so when he started acting off; not cold or indifferent, but actually smiling more and his head always somewhere else, it all made sense when a new face started to show at the pc shop on the regular.
yeosang met someone else.
and truthfully, you couldn't be any happier for him, because he deserved someone who wanted to be with him and who will love him in that moment.
every time your two best friends asked why you let a man of yeosang's caliber slip right out of your hand, you were never able to give them a definite answer, unsure of it yourself.
you guys were great friends and meshed so well together even without all the budding romance, and you didn't see why that needed to change--you suppose.
you had assured him it was all good and fair, that it is so natural for feelings to develop and for some to die out, especially over a long period--he needed to just go for it.
you like to think you earned another lifelong friend, even if he's busy most of the time and you'll be seeing each other at most only four times a year.
"want to order something first?" you suggest, quirking an eyebrow.
he hums with a nod, arms crossed in a relaxed manner.
you both order no more than two cups of americano, the taste of the black style coffee something you used to dislike because of the lack of sweetness, but yeosang got you growing fond of it after a while.
"how's everything?" you start again, "the job? school? other things?" you let just the faintest smirk cross your lips, much to the mirth on yeosang's.
"i want to say good but it's all really just a pain in the ass. the job and school, that is."
you snicker and he does the same, your frame slightly leaning over the table before passing a comment, "at least other things are going well."
"yeah." he smile. "but school will be over soon and that'll be that. the lead in my department likes my work enough so hoping for a promotion around the corner."
"you'll get it. for sure."
you both thank the waiter after the drinks' arrival, one of your hand fidgeting at the handle of the cup watching as he takes a sip.
"but i'm excited to be seeing everyone else the next month or so," he says, his turn be the one to watch.
"me too. we'll do karaoke, play stupid games, and maybe just drink a little."
you were also never great with alcohol but you've built more tolerance for it over the years given how your friends are.
"yeah, a little," yeosang quips, and you both giggle, knowing it's never just a small amount with mingi and yuna before they'd want everyone else to get as equally wasted.
"and you? anything new?" he asks, much to the fall of your expression as you begin fighting with yourself internally.
decide on whether you should or should not tell him of the tragedy that struck just a couple of days ago; the one that sent you five years back and to a place so dark.
but it's yeosang, and he will understand. he always does.
"i uh, i ran into san again," you break it sharp and quick, his relaxed face and posture tensing up.
"oh? what the fuck."
"yeah. he's friends with arin's boyfriend and it's an unbelievable amount of fuckery."
"thought he was being a dickhead somewhere else, and not in the country," yeosang takes a jab, always squeezing in the opportunity to do so, because he really does think san is such a horrible person.
he don't know how much the man's come to grovel, but for one to act like that and hurt another the way he did, it takes some malice at the core.
"he did meet her boyfriend while somewhere else," you enlighten, the fact not one you're happy to know about or tell.
yeosang quiets for a second, asking hesitantly, "did he tried talking to you?"
you nod, much to his expectation.
"yeah. but i shot him down the first time, and the second... i don't know. we talked but he didn't try apologizing or anything."
“also, i hope you’ll be willing to hear my apology out even if just once. not for me and all my excuses, but because you deserve it. that’s all.”
"and do you want him to apologize?" he asks, his voice stern and serious.
you freeze up at the question, all this time talking so big about not wanting to hear from san or whatever because he's hurt you enough, but you really don't know.
it's been years and you've moved on, but you do acknowledge the part of you that reserves a special place for him; him who was your first love and was once something you held on a pedestal.
"it would take a lot more than an apology for what he did," you answer, lacking just the smallest confidence.
"no, of course it's gonna take more than an apology. he did a lot of shitty things to you, but you shouldn't hear him out for the purpose of forgiveness, but because it's the least he can do for the hurt he's caused you. the apology isn't about him, but you."
yeosang's words stays with you for the rest of the day, and it doesn't get any better--mingi's also comes back as a haunting, making you turn and toss in bed.
“so you’re not even a little bit curious in what he has to say?”
“no.”
“or what he’s been up to?”
“why the fuck would i be?”
“no no, of course, fuck that guy. i’m just saying that if he has something to say, aren’t you just the slightest bit curious what it is? don’t you want to hear about how pathetic and miserable he was during the time apart, or how sorry he is?”
then what san said back at the theater also makes a reappearance, each of them taking turn to mess with your head and rethink: are you okay with never knowing what san was gonna say?
maybe it isn't gonna be as deep or remorseful as you hope, but he very clearly wants to say something to you, and you have to make a choice between finding out what it is or live your life with the mystery in mind.
you hate to say it, but you think the latter might be more painful, your mind always so itching and curious.
you might need to talk to him tomorrow, for just one last time.
you wake up way too early for your own good, not even urgent to get ready for work for another hour.
but you need to talk to san. make it quick and over with, then go on your own way like it's been.
you're barely a step out, the door not even closed yet when you can feel something under your slipper, glancing down to see you've stepped on a white envelope... addressed to you and from san, the date almost from a year ago.
you open it, seated on your couch and with a racing heart.
dear y/n,
i am finally writing this letter. i’ve sat down many times attempting to do so, sometimes barely able to get through the first line and sometimes i’ll read the first paragraph i wrote only to throw it away, completely unsatisfied. but it’s been four years–at least at the time that i’m writing this–that i’ve last seen you. four years since we saw each other and we probably won’t for a very long time, if ever.
it would be a miracle for me if i was to ever cross paths with you even just one more time, but it would be a tragedy for you because i’d like to think fate wouldn’t be so cruel to put you through that. so i write this letter with the thought that you would most likely never see it, but i did promise myself that if fate really is that cruel and we were to cross paths again, i would give it to you. it’s a bit selfish of me, but it’s because i know the chance of ever seeing you again is close to none. but it’s also everything i’ve ever wanted to tell you; say to you. i want to apologize sincerely, even though it’s a little too late. in a way, this letter is also an outlet for me and my thoughts.
it’s been about a year since i’ve graduated and around this time of the year, i always get a little sentimental. could be because i’m so far away from home so it’s only natural, but i know it’s because it’s summer and i tend to associate the season with you. we did a lot together and you opened some parts of me i couldn’t say or admit at the time.
you would always used to tell me to just try whenever i didn’t see the worth in doing something and i honestly just dismissed it because it sounded silly and quite cliche. i thought it was ironic coming from someone so shy and timid who always looked at the world with so much fear in her eyes. now, i’m starting to understand the amount of courage it must’ve taken you to even go out of your comfort zone. i realized, i was so much of a coward in comparison despite thinking i was the hottest shit at the time.
i always ran, but you never did. i was so scared of anything new and unfamiliar but you always faced them even when there’s a likely chance of failure. i treated you like shit and you still wanted to love me. i think about it often… why are you this way? but i won’t ever know because i never put in the efforts to get to know you beyond what you could offer me. you always asked about me but i never did the same in return.
if i could redo everything, i would want to hear your story. i would love to read anything you write. i said i would, but i never did.
i’m in the states, i’m sure somewhat and somehow you probably already know that (or you probably don’t because you don’t care anymore, which is fair). i left right before the start of the second semester during sophomore year. it was a big decision for sure, but i needed the change. things were already getting stale and repetitive, and you know me… i am not one to stick in one place for too long. i will always run, and so i ran to the states to live with my sister.
other than the fact i was born there and half of my family resides there, at that point, there was nothing left for me in korea. i didn’t have much to lose if i were to fly across an ocean and start anew.
wooyoung had already cut contact with me by then and any friends close to genuine i’ve ever had were all from associations with him. soon after, i realized anyone i still talked to were all phonies who i only hung around during parties and stupid rendezvous, with the exception of jongho. he got into yonsei, by the way. if you didn’t see him pestering you on campus, you probably already picked that up. he sent me a message a few months ago to come back and attend his graduation but i told him to fuck off because he didn’t attend mine either. good for him, though. he’s a smart kid.
but yeah. wooyoung’s a good person even if he grew up privileged. it’s what makes him such a people magnet. he was the most genuine friend i’ve ever had and the one who stuck by me for the longest. i really took him for granted and it only hit me when i lost him.
you are fortunate to have someone like mingi and yunho who seems very protective. i was a little scared when wooyoung warned me about mingi because he threatened to knock me out if he ever sees me. he’s much taller than me, so i don’t doubt it.
i know i sound miserable so far, but i am actually doing pretty okay… unfortunately. you probably don’t want to hear that and wish i was suffering, but i’ve suffered for maybe two and a half years before i finally felt somewhat content and okay, if that will make you feel any better.
the states is different and the people are as well. i’ve got to experience a lot of new things for a change.
when i transferred, i still didn’t know what to do. the clock was ticking and there was only so little time before i had to pick a field. i ended up going into dance performance, and of course i thought of you. when i found a passion for it again, i thought of you. and when i graduated last year with a fine arts degree, i thought of you… all because i knew you would be the happiest to hear about it.
whenever anyone asked me why i don’t want to come back home, i would always tell them what i told you: because there’s nothing left there for me. but one of the biggest reasons why i didn’t want to come back was because it reminded me of you too much. that, coupled with other factors, just makes it so much harder for me to want to return. it feels like reopening old emotional wounds that i have no one else to blame for but myself.
but my junior year, i met someone named yeonjun because we shared the same major. i get nostalgic sometimes because he often reminded me of wooyoung. speaking of wooyoung again, i sent him a similar letter but in email form a while ago, though not as long, and he said he was happy to hear from me again. i wasn’t sure if he was going to reply at all because it was an old email and i assumed he probably wanted nothing to do with me and that was official. but he replied pretty fast and said if i ever returned to korea, he doesn’t mind catching up. he went into business and said it’s something he actually really enjoys.
yeonjun is cool though, and like a less annoying version of wooyoung. he was also a transfer but had been here longer than i have. he met his girlfriend online who’s living in south korea and so after he graduated, he went back right away and said he was going to attempt to open his own studio. just about a month ago, he called me and said it’s almost done and he would be recruiting. he wants me to come back and help him and i’ve been giving it some consideration because i’m not doing much here back at the states either.
i was hesitant at first, of course. all for the reasons i’ve already stated, but all i ever do i run and even i’m growing tired of it. no matter how many bad memories the place holds, it is still home and my motherland after all.
anyways, i apologize for rambling. the letter is getting way too long, but my point is, i might’ve started liking you at one point. not in the casual way that our relationship was, but actually really like you. i don’t know. now that i’m older, it’s true that the love you’ve given me was something i was not ready for at that time and age. and now, it’s everything i wish i have. funny how time really does change a person.
i hope you are doing good for yourself, and i’m so sorry if you ever get the chance to read this letter.
– choi san
you don't even register you're crying despite the burning in your eyes until a lone tear stains the last page.
your heart and emotions so conflicted but also whole, unable to help the warmth and love that wraps your body even for just a moment.
because san felt something. through all of the lies and deceit, there were some sincerity, because an even bigger question you had all these years was whether he ever meant any of it.
when he kissed you, fucked you, and looked at you, you always wondered if there was something else behind his actions--if even the smallest of liking you--not for what you could offer him, but for being yourself.
your weakness always having been too easily touched and moved, particularly when swayed by the name of choi san that you're already at yeonjun's doorstep with the letter still in your clutch.
your beating heart still loud but ready to face him with everything.
"oh, hey."
it's yeonjun and he's both surprise and happy at the sight of you, but definitely questioning of the puffy red eyes.
"i-is san here?" you ask in the most vulnerable tone he's ever heard from you, raising an eyebrow in return.
"he left just a while ago."
yeonjun doesn't get to interrogate the reason why you're asking or is at his door so early in the morning looking like you just had a breakdown, only watching in silence as you scuttle into the elevator.
you don't know how long he's been gone exactly (you really should've asked), but there's a chance he might not have gone far; you might still catch him if--
you thought you were prepared and ready, but when you actually see him, your body just kind of goes into shock.
he catches your nervous gaze, so scared before but relieved the instant he sees you--standing up from where he was waiting as you walk over.
the lobby still with some people and their chitters, but the air around both you and san so thick with a silence that you're desperate to break.
"yeonjun told me you left a while ago... i thought you were most likely gone," you speak, so shy and nervous all of a sudden, but determined nonetheless.
"yeah. i-i was going to, but i told myself if i don't see you within the next hour, then i'll really go. forget all of it."
it might be the first time he's ever stuttered in front of you, your heart once again somersaulting knowing he was waiting for you.
"oh..."
as much as san's gotten better, he will always be a little selfish. he knows he absolutely does not deserve your forgiveness or even to be talking to you, but you are someone special to him.
someone he didn't even think he'd get to ever meet again unless by some miracle, and for it to actually happen, it must be some sign.
that he at least need to try and fight before completely giving it up. just one hour, and if you didn't show, he'd let it be. take that as an answer and leave you alone forever.
"w-where are you going to be staying?" you attempt to carry a casual conversation.
"wooyoung," he answers, mouth forming into a smile you love all too much. "he said i can stay for a month before he'll kick me out."
you giggle and he does so, too, your eyes meeting momentarily as another silence fly by.
"i got your letter," you finally say, the one thing that was sitting on your chest so heavy.
he only nods, posture and everything about him so awkward, because it is.
admitting to your own fuck-ups is never easy, and especially when those fuck-ups messed with the lives of people. he is ashamed and embarrassed, to say the very least.
when he doesn't say anything, you try again, only getting as far in your sentence at the first "i'm..." before the emotions get the better of you--the crack in your voice and the waterwork.
san's hands are on you that instant, his hands wiping at your tears, and you think you're going to cry even more at the proximity; he's so close and it feels so wrong.
"i'm... i'm just so happy," you let it out, your gaze holding his and at the way he softens, you think you could die.
not just that he's incredibly handsome, but it's always been so easy to fall for him and want to give your all. like you can understand why your eighteen year old self wanted him so bad.
"i'm so happy that you liked me then," you finish off, a tad dramatic but thankful there isn't a lot of people in the lobby so early in the morning.
"i still like you now, y/n," he replies almost immediately, so much passion and sincerity in his voice, because he wants you to know that. he does like you.
"i was so stupid and immature and a complete dick. i am still a lot of those things, but god... you were amazing. you still are. and i had it so good and took it for granted. i just want to say, i am sorry... for everything. i already wrote it in the letter, but i want you to hear it, too, that i truly am so sorry."
the way you look at him the entire time too endearing; something he used to hate. your gaze always so attentive as if he holds the stars in them.
your lips are slightly pouting and if he was the man from before, he would've already kissed them. take them for himself and not care whether you wanted it or not.
but he already swore that he will no longer be crossing boundaries or doing anything just for his own self fulfillment.
you're about to say something but is cut off by the ringing of his phone, greatly saddened when he takes his hold off your face to fumble his pocket, taking a single glance at it.
"it's wooyoung. probably to complain because i told him i would be coming like twenty minutes ago."
you nod in understanding, mumbling, "you can go."
he exhales and looks down at you.
"i know this wasn't the best time and place to talk, but... if you want, just if you're okay with it... maybe we can talk again another time? no pressure, of course."
he waits for the stoic expression on you to turn into a smile as you respond with a soft, "i would love that." pausing just before adding, "my number is still the same."
"got it," he says, trying the hardest to hide a smile you can still see. the both of you just waiting in spot after because it's hard to leave.
"are you still gonna come visit yeonjun?" you suddenly ask, much to san's amusement, he can't help the smirk.
"yeah."
"okay, cool," you reply nonchalantly, acting the most aloof as your eyes shy away from his.
"then can i also ask you something?"
"go ahead."
he clears his throat, taking the shortest pause.
"are you seeing yeosang?"
you pinch in your brows at the question, puzzlement all over your face before breaking out a chuckle.
"no."
and if you are to ask him, he probably will never admit to the uneasiness ever since he saw yeosang's name pop up on your phone.
yeosang's a great guy and a perfect fit for you, but dare he say it, san would be heartbroken.
"okay, cool," he mimics you, eventually rubbing at the back of his neck, "gonna head out then. i'll see you."
"yeah. i'll see you."
you watch as he disappears into the distance, sparing another glance at the letter still in your hold, only shaking your head going back up the elevator to get ready for work.
damned choi san and the hold he still has over you.
a/n: dksdskdjfksi it is finally over!!! truly ty to everyone who stuck around even with all the bullshit bc i couldn't make up my mind half of the time. i did the yeosang girlies the dirtiest but believe me when i say we were SO CLOSE to a yeosang endgame. if anyone is interested in that, i would be happy to respond in an ask or reply. but they did have so much potential, i'm sorry sdlksijdkjsdl
again, ty 4 reading and have a wonderful rest of your day/night! onto better things, we go.
taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @sannwa @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi @barbielibra @tmtxtf @brown88 @harusoraa @frankenstein852 @yujispinkhair @mermaid17venus @nolxverlikeme @writersun @kkayfan @wooyoungjpg @galaxypox @byunniebaekhyunnie @vixensss @interweab @svintsandghosts @moonchele @atinyluv238
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𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 #𝟐.
pile 1 → pile 2 → pile 3
Pick the photo that you feel the most drawn to. The questions that i picked for this reading were taken from this post. As always, this is a general reading so take what resonates.
𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏:
What residual guilt are you holding?
You may feel guilty every time you make mistakes. The roots go back to your childhood for example, parents or teachers comparing your marks with others or your 'friends' comparing your less scores with theirs on purpose so that they would feel better about themselves, whatever the case was it stills affects your current self. Whenever you start something, you set expectations for yourself that you will become perfect at this instantly or before anyone else. Due to this, you might be emotionally invested in whatever you do and whenever you make a mistake or see someone else doing something easily, you start to question your abilities and think that they aren't good enough and feel like your younger self again. You are stuck in a negative mindset and have many toxic emotions like bitterness, resentment and hatred could be towards others or yourself, some of you may even use these emotions as motivation. You may often feel emotionally drained and find it hard to concentrate and focus on things.
message: "learning is all about trial and error and you will make mistakes but the more mistakes you make the better you will get. You might feel like you look stupid but don't give up. If you keep doing the work, you will achieve your goal. Then the achievement will mean a lot more to you. Be patient with the learning process. Try not to lie, to others and especially to yourself. The help you need will come to you at the right time, even though it seems impossible to you. So lighten up and stop being so negative or having 'toxic positivity' and remember that is okay to ask or receive help."
How can you be more nurturing to yourself?
Get out of your head and then you will realize that you are not alone. Allow yourself to be vulnerable because it is okay to feel your emotions. Let go of your habit of doing everything by yourself especially when help is offered to you. You may ask the universe or a higher power for help (even searching for some type of guidance online) for someone to help you get out of the mess but when the help does come to you, you decline it. You may feel like no one understands you or gets you or you are afraid that people might not care about you. But the universe wants to tell you that it is not true and you can feel connected to someone only if you allow yourself. Try not to shut down these offers out of fear of vulnerability. When someone offers to help you try being grateful and be vocal about it instead of your usual "no I can do it by myself". Nothing wrong with being independent but also there is no harm in asking for help. I got this strong message of 'you are at the right place, at the right time' so for some of you, the event and the people around you are due to a divine arrangement so maybe this could be your chance to heal a part of your inner child because there is a soul connection to those around you.
message: "Have the courage to even face the uncertainties of your life. Know that you will move forward as you did with your past challenges. Victory doesn't only come from achieving your goals, it also comes from winning over your fears. Do not be afraid of failing. When you were a baby learning how to walk, you fell so many times and even got hurt but did you give up on walking? No, but instead you got back up and look at you now. Take the risk to improve your life, even if there is no guarantee."
𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐:
If you felt drawn to Pile 3, make sure to check it out as well!!
What residual guilt are you holding?
You might feel guilty for not taking control of your life decisions. You feel like you don't have enough 'knowledge' to make decisions, so always give others the authority to make the decisions for you. Maybe when you were young, you were made fun of or looked down on for making "silly" choices or selecting the wrong option. Now you could be like 'oh I just need outside advice about this xyz situation' and end up doing exactly what they said even though you do not like it because you feel like if you followed your own advice you would fail 100%) You may also feel guilty for procrastinating or ignoring the things that need to be done, its there in the back of your mind but some of you could try to shut it by saying "well what can I do about it? Now is not the right time for it!" and continue sitting in your couch potato position. Also for some of you, whenever someone brings up this topic you try to ignore it or get irritated by it, not in a childish way but in more of a "rebellious" teenager way. You may feel like no one loves you or cares about you and people are secretly hating on you and are jealous of you but for the majority of you, it is most likely in your head (imaginary haters). You have longed so much for something better and since you are not getting it (sometimes you may even feel like there is no chance of this future for you), you have unknowingly developed a pessimistic attitude even though you say that you are being "realistic" about life. There is a strong message about having two choices( you got like 5 cards about it). The universe is telling you that every day you have two choices; to feel the passion within you or to numb it. If you can find enjoyment in your life now, even more, will come. It is either to do or to not. If you don't do it, you can enjoy your comfort now while occasionally feeling guilty about it and later on feel overwhelmed because you do not have enough time for it or you could do it and give yourself time to process it.
message: "Stop thinking that you will grow only when your surroundings will change. You grow when you change. Stop thinking that you will only grow when you are forced to do it, that isn't the case here. This time it IS in your hands, it's up to you and if you fail, trust yourself to get back up. Every day you have a choice, you get to decide which inner voice to listen to. It feels like your inner child is trapped by this version of you. It asks you every day to change but you might listen to it."
How can you be more nurturing to yourself?
You are free, stop living in your head so much it is almost as if you made a prison for yourself. Let go of your fear of looking stupid. Everyone makes mistakes (even the person that you constantly go to for advice and consider authority) its normal to make them, we are all humans. Do not let this fear stop you from even starting something that you want. Let go of your 'pride' which is limiting you from growing. You also embody the strengths you admire in the people you look up to. Don't try to "compare" yourself to the talents, and achievements of others. Identify what life lesson you seem to be repeating, it is one of the big lessons you're here to work on. Instead of getting frustrated and wanting this to be over as soon as possible, learn what this repetition is teaching you. When you decide to change from your old patterns for something good and make efforts to improve yourself every day, it is something to feel proud of. Even if you do not see it, you are getting better and wiser every day.
message: "the answers you seek, can always be found within you. always remember that your inner wisdom will always guide you. try to have a positive mind because how you think affects your reality. if you feel like your inner self is telling you something like "oh we are not good enough for this anyway, and we have to accept it because that's how life works" then you are not hearing from your best self. you can do it, everything is at the table for you, and it is up to do something with it. The cycle of the same misfortunes is repeating because the reason could be rooted in something that you need to resolve from the inside. Your instincts will guide you toward the right action every time, but only if you are in tune with yourself."
𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑:
If you felt drawn to Pile 2 , check it out as well !!
What residual guilt are you holding?
(i kept thinking about the song I know it's over by The Smiths while writing this song so give it a listen if you haven't already)
You might feel guilty whenever you get emotional. You might feel afraid to open up emotionally because you feel like it will backfire on you in the future and you will get hurt. Maybe when you were young you were shamed or made fun of for crying or being excited about things (i saw a little child collecting stones/ shells from the beach and then getting scolded by the parent, so take however that resonates) You may feel uncomfortable around emotions of others and unknowingly be cold towards because when you felt emotionally vulnerable you were told to not be so sensitive and you don't know what to do. Many of you could be men/ raised were raised as the "man of the house" from a young age regardless of your gender and you were told to toughen up because there was a time to have emotions and be "weak", especially from a mother figure (even in the song I recommended he is talking to his mother). Also, some of you think that if show your emotions it will lead to some sort of financial failure, which relates to the previous line where I said that some of you had to be the man of the house and had some sort of financial responsibility since a young age. Now you find yourself in an unbalanced situation, where you think that following your brain and shutting down your emotions is the right thing to do because that is what you were taught as a child but a part of you says 'this isn't how it is supposed to be, I am a human too, I am supposed to live life and feel too like all the others do.' For this, you will have to stop the thoughts that somehow convince you or put the fear in your mind that something bad WILL happen. When you are anxious about something that hasn't even happened yet, then you are harming yourself with your thinking. Tell yourself that your negative thoughts are just thoughts and not your reality.
message: "you have completed so many challenges, that chapter is done and dusted, it is over now. Now it is time for you to evolve. It is time for you to create the world that you always wanted, the one where your younger self would feel safe and not get judged for being childish, the one where your teenage self can shamelessly dance and laugh and the one where your current self can look at both of these versions and smile and help them make that sand castle at the beach (i keep seeing a beach. it could be a metaphorical situation or literal idk, but it is a message for someone.) Get out of the repeating cycle now that you have the knowledge and guidance to do so."
How can you be more nurturing to yourself?
(yeah there is something important about water bc all three cards you got have water-related images, so you could have a lot of water in your chart especially cancer or feel connected to water.)
Take a look around your environment. It has the power to unconsciously affect your mood and self-esteem. Cut out what no longer or never served you. You do not need it. The more you clean out your personal surroundings, you will feel less heavy and stressed on the inside. Your body and mind have been under immense stress, you have every right to live for yourself and be happy. Love yourself and be open to love. Renew your love for yourself and try to feel with your heart and not your ego. Slow down and enjoy the little things in life and learn to appreciate them. Learn how to balance being in the real world and what your inner self wants. You may feel like there is no time for 'self-care', but sometimes it is important to shut down your mind and listen to your body (you could even feel tremors in your body that happen due to a lot of stress) Protect your health and well-being first.
message: "Every day there is a new opportunity to feel grateful for existing, to make good choices, and to celebrate living. Go out in the sun, ride or learn how to ride a bicycle/horse and feel the warmth of a sunny morning. Stop being a night owl, it is affecting your body and you know it as well. Don't let pride stop you from making mistakes and asking for help. You are not a disappointment if you fail or take help from someone else. Everything always works out, it always has and will continue to do so."
Thank you so much for reading!!!
#pac tarot#free tarot reading#pac reading#bts tarot#taehyung tarot#general tarot reading#love tarot reading#tarot reading#pick a card reading#inner child#tarot
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gone, from austin | j. miller | part two
brothers best friend!pre-outbreak!joel x f!reader
summary: Joel Miller: the one that got away; right person, wrong time. Now you’re back in Austin and it hurts just as bad, as if you’d never left five years ago. [w.c. 2.4k]
warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, no use of y/n, light angst, Sarah is alive and well, f!reader, smoking, depression, brief mentions of a mental breakdown, implied cheating (not joel), ex-lovers to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn, lmk if i missed anything <3
💌 a/n: FINALLY a part two? who am i?? anyways not sure how i feel about this story... but i know how i want it to end so ill keep going for that. lmk your thoughts <3
previous part | next part | masterlist
Part two | May 2002
You were a work of art, that’s the hardest part.
It had been three weeks since you had gotten home. You had become more than a bit of a hermit, looking and applying for jobs. You made yourself sparse in the house, you understood everything your brother did was an open invitation to you, but it was easier to disappear. It also gave you time to process, when you left Toronto it was a whirlwind, but now it was a dulling ache. Friends had reached out, wondering where you went, if you were okay. You gave them enough information so they wouldn’t worry, but not enough to come looking for you.
It was Friday morning, just like any other morning, you were searching through medical journals and websites looking for job postings. Search, apply, wait, and wait some more. It wasn’t very thrilling, but it was something to do to keep your head above water.
The alarm on your phone had begun ringing, 10 am, you reached into your desk drawer and took your meds. They filled a hole in your head you hadn’t known was there until you had a small breakdown two years ago. It was something only a few people in your life knew about, it wasn’t something you ever really wanted out there. There was almost a shamefulness to it, no one in Austin knew, and then one person in Toronto who knew about it was no longer welcome in your life. So you move on, continue as you have and hope that your ticket out comes sooner rather than later.
A soft knock came at your door.
“Come in!” You said, closing the desk drawer quickly.
“Hey! Someone is at the door for you,” Kelsey popped her head in and smiled.
You looked down at your Dell Med School t-shirt and Roots sweatpants and laughed lightly.
“Is it anyone important?” You asked embarrassed gesturing to your pajama centered clothing choices.
“I am sure they won’t even notice.”
You sighed and stood up, you lightly stretched and made your way downstairs. Just as the entryway came into view there was Sarah and Joel, Sarah with her backpack on and Joel shifting uncomfortably looking at the floor.
“Hey guys,” you said, smiling at them.
“Hey!” Sarah smiled.
“What’s up? Shouldn’t you be at school already?” You questioned.
“I had a dentist appointment this morning. We just came back to the house to grab my bag, but I wanted to see if you were around tonight,” She swayed, clearly hoping you’d say yes.
“I’m uh-, not sure,” You looked at Joel for guidance but he wasn’t paying any attention to you his sole focus was on Sarah.
“I just really wanted to have that sleepover you promised! My dad is going out tonight and suggested it would be a good time for us to hang out and -“
“But only if you are available and want to,” Joel interrupted.
“Oh, yeah! That sounds like it could be fun. Why don’t I come over around 5ish and we can order some pizza?” You smiled at her.
It would be much more comfortable without Joel there, you had felt like you were walking on eggshells when he would pop over to have a beer with Jake or help Kelsey fix things around the house.
Joel nodded.
“Alright baby girl, time to get you to school,” he began shuffling Sarah out the door.
“See you tonight!” Sarah called over her shoulder.
You waved at her in response and when the door clicked closed you pinched the bridge of your nose.
“You know, she really did miss having you around,” Kels leaned against the doorway behind you.
“I know,” You sighed, “I just don’t know what I’m getting myself into.”
“What do you mean? You’ve known her since she was just a little kid. You’re not getting yourself into anything except maybe forgiving yourself for hurting her.” Kelsey said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“You don’t fucking get it! This isn’t a permanent solution. I can’t stay, I don’t belong here anymore! I don’t want to get her hopes up that I might by hanging out with her and letting things go back to the way they were. That will just hurt her again.” You snapped, a pang of annoyance in your chest.
“You being here and ignoring her, it hurts them both. You can talk a big game about how you don’t belong here, but this is your home, your family. I don’t know what happened between you and Joel, but it is clear he still cares about you. Is staying really the worst thing? At least thinking about it?”
“They are not my family, you and Jake absolutely are. And you’re right, maybe this was home once, but it’s not anymore. All that’s left is a permanent scar of what could have been. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” You turned to walk up the stairs.
Kelsey came and put her hand over yours on the railing.
“Look I’m sorry if I overstepped. I only want to see you happy,” Her voice was soft and apologetic.
You just nodded in response and made your way back up the stairs, once in your room you made your way to the bed and cried into your pillow. You knew the love for Austin was there, it had always been there, but so was the hurt. The pain would always be there too, it painted your soul in blues and grays. That’s the hardest part, how beautifully life painted your anguish here.
The day came and went quickly, and you felt unprepared for your sleepover with Sarah. You knew it would be nice to hang out, do face masks and watch a few movies, but your anxiety was palpable. You were worried it would feel like grasping at a life you could’ve had, but were strictly denied.
You made your way next door around five and before you could even knock the door had swung open and Sarah was pulling you inside.
“You’re here! Finally, I’ve been thinking about what we could do tonight all day. Dad said he would call a few pizzas in, we went to CVS after school too! I got nail polish, face masks, and some weird snacks,” Sarah spoke excitedly.
It gave you a bit of whiplash, barely able to even get in a few “Alrights” or “Sounds Fun”’s in.
“Woah, woah, Sarah slow down,” Joel said as you made your way into their living room.
He was sitting on the couch in a black t-shirt and Levis, his hair was wet and the messy ways were pushed off his forehead. He was still so devilishly handsome, he never tried too hard with his looks, but that didn’t mean he didn’t look good; it arguably made him more attractive.
“A’right, I’m going to get outta here,” He put his hands on his lap and made his way to stand, “Tommy is gonna be here any second.”
“Dad, did you remember to order pizza?” Sarah asked with a hint of annoyance.
“Oh shit,” he felt his pockets pulling out his phone, “I’ll call on the way over to the bar.”
“Don’t worry about it, Joel. I’ll get it,” You smiled softly at him, pulling out your own phone.
“Y’sure?” He asked.
“Yes, yes, she’s sure, now, go have fun. We have a very important girls night to get started on.” Sarah shooed her father toward the door.
Joel just laughed and rolled his eyes, you shrugged in response.
As soon as you heard the door shut Sarah came rushing back to the living room.
“Sorry, he’s a mess,” Sarah laughed.
“I can see that nothing has changed,” You laughed with her.
You both fell into a comfortable conversation, it was nice to see Sarah so happy. She was completely different then when you had left, yet somehow exactly the same.
The night was spent watching cheesy rom-coms, doing face masks and nails, and eventually Sarah had fallen asleep in her pajamas on the couch. It was nearly one in the morning, you placed a blanket over her small frame and began quietly tidying the living room.
The night had warmed your heart in a way you weren’t sure you’d be able to feel again. Sarah was such a light in your life for so long, and now she was turning into this beautiful and kind teenager. You had talked all about her school, Joel and Tommy’s shenanigans, and what’s been happening around Austin. She didn’t push you though, you had talked about Toronto and being away from home without delving into any fresh wounds.
It was nice, it felt good to know when you left it wasn’t your last memory of Sarah. You worried for years it had been and you’d have to watch her grow through the lens of your brother, but here she was in the flesh.
You sighed, putting the leftover pizza in the fridge and pouring any extra soda from your glasses down the drain. You went and checked on Sarah after you had finished cleaning up to make sure she was still sleeping. She hadn’t even stirred, so you took this as the best opportunity to step outside and have a smoke.
It wasn’t something you were proud of, but was something that you would normally only do after particularly stressful days. Today would classify as one, you didn’t like fighting with Kels. That, plus the anxiety of coming to the Miller’s and not knowing what to expect, warranted a need to de-stress.
You made your way into the backyard, only closing the screen door in case Sarah woke up, and placed a cigarette between your lips. Just as you were searching through your bag for a light a voice startled you.
“Hey, I didn’t know you smoked?” Joel.
Fuck, you knew he probably wouldn’t have been much later, but it felt pathetic to be sneaking a cigarette on his back porch.
“Not often, but you’d be surprised how common it is in healthcare.” You said finding the lighter and lighting the end.
He looked at you for a moment, and you realized maybe he didn’t want you smoking on his back porch.
“Oh, shit sorry, you okay if I-“
“Oh, yeah, I don’t really care,” he hurried before you could finish your question.
“Cool,” you said.
The silence grew uncomfortable between you two.
“I, uh, didn’t mean to startle y’a there,” Joel said.
“Oh,”
“I just saw the light on and wondered if you were out here.”
“And here I was…”
“Here you were,” He shifted, “You always loved it back here. Sitting looking up at the stars after Sarah went to bed.”
“Yeah, I think I missed the stars the most while I was in Toronto,” you sighed.
“I always thought they’d’ve had more stars up there,” he looked up at the sky.
You had finished about half of the cigarette and put it out, it wasn’t doing anything for you at the moment except make you want to shower.
“Not in the city, it was like a shitty, colder, New York,” You laughed.
Joel chuckled at your comment. He came closer to you and leaned on the railing of the deck with you. It felt almost suffocating, he was so close to you and it felt so intimate.
“Y’know, we’re really happy you’re here,” He said quietly.
“Joel, don’t…” you warned.
“I mean it, Sarah never stopped asking about you. She missed you, this girl's night made her whole year.”
“Joel, please,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. You already carried so much guilt for leaving Sarah with nothing but a goodbye. You knew he was trying to comfort you but he was crushing your soul with guilt instead.
“I’m sorry darlin’ I just… always asked myself what if things were different. Where we would be, how would Sarah be different if you had stayed,”
His words ignited a fire within you, one that burned in anger and resentment. Who was he to ask what if, when he gave no choice in whether or not you had a chance at finding out.
“We could talk about maybes and what ifs until we’re blue in the face, it doesn’t turn back time. Doesn’t change anything between us. You made a choice, Joel, and so you don’t get the what if’s,” You snapped.
He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.
“I’m allowed to wonder,” He retorted. “You weren’t the only one hurt, y’know?”
“Well guess what, I wasn’t the one that wanted out when things got a little bit complicated.”
“Wanted out? You think I wanted out?! Fucking Christ, I didn’t want to hold you back. I have no choice but to stay in Austin, letting you go meant that you wouldn’t be tied down here!” His voice was quiet, but he was clearly irritated.
“I didn’t need you to let me go, I’m very capable of making my own choices. And if I had chosen to stay I needed you to tell me everything would be okay.”
You weren’t speaking in a hushed tone like he was. You were frustrated, angry, he had completely backtracked on your breakup. Tears stung your eyes, you were frustrated and confused.
“I’m done talking about this, Joel,” You said, wiping the tears away from your eyes. “You said your piece five years ago, and nothing is going to change that.”
You turned to head back inside, now that he was here you’d be able to walk back over to Jake’s and go to sleep. Make an attempt at forgetting this conversation ever happened and pretend your night ended with you and Sarah asleep on the couch.
Joel grabbed your wrist before you got too far.
“Please, just let me explain.” He pleaded.
You pulled your wrist from his grip and left as promptly as you came.
Your chest was tight and it was as if you could feel your heart shattering all over again into a million little pieces. The ghost of his love haunted you for years. He was still the same man you fell in love with, that much was certain. In that, it also meant, he was still the same man who broke your heart.
And that was a risk you were not willing to take.
To spiral out, to try and float, to see a friend, to see a ghost.
tags: @thetriumphantpanda @fruit-frogs @wand-erer5 @missgurrl @casa-boiardi @harriedandharassed @undrthelights @wishyoudaskme @reader-without-a-story @morning-star-joy @tightjeansjavi & once again sorry if i missed anyone or lmk if youd like to be on the taglist xo.
#joel tlou#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller au#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller angst#joel x reader#joel miller series#joel miller self insert#joel miller story#joel miller smut#pre outbreak!joel
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