love is blind (really REALLY blind)
Summary: Wes Weston was 14 years old when his soulmate died for the first time.
Ao3 Link | Chapter 2
Chapter 1
Soulmates. Not everyone had them, but a lot of those who did would gush and wax poetic about their fated partner, either in their heads or out loud.
Little Wesley was no different. He loved to imagine what his soulmate would be like, look like, sound like. He loved to ask his parents how they met over and over. He loved to write stories in his notebooks about a bunch of places he and his soulmate would visit and have lots and lots of fun.
And then Mom was gone. And Dad wouldn’t tell him how he met Mom anymore.
He wanted Mom back to tell him the story, but Dad said she went to some big farm up in the sky. And Kyle was sad a lot too.
Dad started buying a lot of yucky green apples and bananas too. Then he started taking Wes with him every time he went to the store. He didn’t wanna go, but Dad always said he needed his help.
Wesley didn’t get it.
And then one day, he did.
---
Wes Weston was 14 years old when his soulmate died for the first time.
It was usually only a few minutes at a time, and he hadn’t known anything about ghosts, so he accepted the fact that he had some sort of “complex colour blindness that manifested during intense moments of stress” or whatever his doctor called it.
But one day, when meat eater and vegan protesters ran screaming, when students similarly sprinted away as fast as they could, when Wes found himself stuck cowering under a tree and hoping the flimsy leaves and branches would protect him, he saw something.
Sucking the massive glowing meat monster into what he would later learn is a Fenton Thermos, was a glowing kid floating high in the sky. His hair glowed, his eyes pinpricks of some brighter colour, a grin on his face and some stupid pun leaving his lips.
And he didn’t know what it was like to see colour in grayscale, but, he thought, maybe this was what it was like.
Later, much much later, he would come to know that the boy’s name was Danny Phantom.
Then Danny Fenton.
Then the bane of his existence.
---
There was a clatter outside the window.
Wes, having fallen asleep on the couch part-way through an all nighter, had jerked awake to it. He blinked at the grayscale in his vision, rubbed his eyes a few times, and then sighed when it persisted. He grabbed the GameCube controller from where it’d fallen to the rug, ready to press play and get back to beating up that annoying blue hedgehog with the far superior black hedgehog, when he heard a suspiciously human sounding groan.
He scrambled to mute the TV and listen for any further sounds, hoping it was just a raccoon or a stray cat or something.
The fire escape creaked loudly, as if supporting a weight larger than just a raccoon.
Wes gulped.
He grabbed Kyle’s skateboard from behind the couch, readied it over his shoulder like a bat and creeped low towards the window. He paused, just under it, and peeked his head up—
And then sighed, his shoulders slumping as he let the board dangle from a loose grip.
Wes shoved open the window one handed, feeling exhaustion tugging at his bones. “Why are you on my fire escape, Fenton?”
“‘M not Fenton. ‘M Phantom,” he mumbled against the metal grating. “D’n’t worry ‘bout me. ‘M perfectly,”—he shifted, as if to turn onto his side, and groaned—“fine.”
“Uh huh, sure. Does this mean you won’t still be laying in a heap on my fire escape in the morning?”
“Pr’bably.”
Wes hummed. Looked Fenton up and down, eyes lingering on a nasty gash on his hip. “Positive?”
“Ye, j’st go.”
And he was tempted. He’d seen how many hits Fenton could take without batting an eye. Seen it up close and personal more than once.
But.
Something about how pitiful he looked, laying face down on his fire escape with the dark clouds rolling in, made Wes pause and think.
It wasn’t like the first aid kit got much use anymore, since it was off season for his and Kyle’s teams. And it was starting to get a problem to move it with how it was full to the brim. It’d probably help to use up some of the materials.
More than that, Fenton really looked pathetic and just the thought of him laying out here looking like a drowned rat would probably keep Wes up at night.
So, with barely any protest from Fenton, he awkwardly dragged him through the window and set him down on the floor. He cringed as some of Fenton’s weird green blood started to stain the rug. Wes would have to get rid of that later.
He left to grab the kit and when he returned, he saw Fenton fail once more to push himself up, his hand slipping in the growing pool of blood around him.
“Wh—?” Fenton blinked his eyes, looking around almost dazed. Well, that explained the lack of protest. “Are y’ gonna try getting a—a f’ckin picture? Now? S’riously?”
Wes rolled his eyes. “Yes, because taking a picture of you is the biggest of my concerns right now.” He unlocked the latch and kneeled next to Fenton, ignoring how sticky the blood made his legs feel. “Now sit still so I can keep you from dying.”
Fenton huffed a laugh, quiet and a little weak. “Too late for th’t.”
“Keep you from dying a second time, whatever.”
Fenton didn’t speak more after that and Wes was thankful for the quiet while he worked. Plus, when the guy wasn’t running his mouth all the time, he was actually pretty nice company. Like a cat or something.
Eventually though, Wes tied off the last of the gauze and tapped Fenton’s shoulder. “All done. You can leave now—” He glanced up to Fenton’s face and saw his eyes closed, breathing deep and even. Of course.
He sighed. What was he supposed to do with the idiot now?
Wes ended up putting Fenton on the couch, a towel covering the cushions under him just in case, and left him to sleep there the rest of the night while he dragged the rug five blocks away to a large dumpster outside a restaurant.
The next morning, Fenton was gone, the towel having disappeared with him.
---
It kept happening.
Between his own secret nightly investigations and frantic hair pulling by his inconsistently coloured vision though, Wes hadn’t really thought much of it.
Every so often, Fenton would show up in varying states of injury and knock on his window. Not the fire escape anymore, as one time he nearly got caught by Wes’ dad, up late trying to catch up on some last minute tax thing. After that, and an annoyed, “If you’re gonna keep showing up, why don’t you just knock on mine instead?” from Wes, Fenton had taken to knocking out the rhythm of whatever song was currently stuck in his head on the glass.
…It was kinda fun to try and guess what song he was thumping out, but simultaneously infuriating that the guy kept showing up so often to disrupt his research.
He said as much one day when Fenton had nothing more than a papercut and whined about wanting a bandaid. Wes had thrown the whole box at him and in his haste to kick him out, ended up letting slip that he was searching for his soulmate.
Fenton had quieted after that, a pitying look in his eye, and Wes had had enough.
It was one thing to endure that look from his dad and his teachers and his so-called friends. But from Fenton? Someone who’d probably been giving his own soulmate the same problem as Wes?
Wes exploded.
“Don’t look at me like that. You think I’m just running through wild goose chases trying to find someone who’s in a coma or something, huh?” he yelled. “Think I’m just a weird kind of colourblind that changes every hour?!”
He gripped Fenton by the front of his hazmat suit. “Or are you gonna tell me there are other fish in the sea? That I should just move on and appreciate the brief moments of full colour while I still have them?!” He shook Fenton. “Well?!”
Fenton grabbed his hands. “Dude, I’m not gonna say any of that, what the fuck? Quit putting words in my mouth.” He pulled Wes' hands down to his lap, holding them there, firmly restraining them. “I just think it sucks that you got the short end of the stick. I hope you find them soon.”
Wes blinked. Felt himself deflate. “Oh. Uh. Thanks, I guess.”
They sat in silence for a bit, Wes’ hands warmed by Fenton’s. “Uh,”—Fenton began—“if it makes you feel better I’m probably driving my own soulmate to desperate measures trying to find me.” He added under his breath, “Not that I really care.”
Something in Wes’ gut twisted at the thought. He didn’t like trying to think of what Fenton’s soulmate was going through. He didn’t like thinking much about Fenton’s soulmate at all. “It really really doesn’t.”
“Right.” Danny scratched the back of his neck. “Anyway, I’m just gonna slide past that to skip all the awkwardness and get to the part where you give me a popsicle for being a good and brave patient.”
“What are you, 4? I’m not giving you any popsicles.”
“But Wes, I was so strong in the face of such a harrowing procedure!”
“You sat on the couch whining for two minutes while I made you a hot water bottle for your leg.”
The rest of the night went about as smoothly as usual. Wes, however, couldn’t shake the thought of Fenton’s soulmate. Couldn’t shake the thought of his own soulmate and how much time she might have left.
As he dropped a spare blanket from the closet atop Fenton’s head, he scowled at the boy struggling to escape from under it. He wouldn’t be like Fenton and his nonchalant attitude. Wes wouldn’t stop until he found the person he was meant to be with. No matter what.
---
This was fucking stupid.
Fenton kept touching him—usually via poking at his hands or giving a high five when he showed up as well as at seemingly random times throughout his visits.
And he had no clue why.
Wes didn’t particularly love or hate it, but he could tolerate it since it seemed to put a stupid smile on Fenton’s face that looked kinda funny.
Made him feel a little weird, a little warm, but again not really a problem.
Or at least, that in itself wasn’t the problem.
The problem was this.
“Fenton.”
“Hm?”
“Fenton.”
Fenton nuzzled into his back, his forehead warming the space between Wes’ shoulder blades. “Yeah?” he said, voice muffled.
Wes gripped the controller with white knuckled hands, nails scratching at the plastic. “What are you doing?”
“Getting comfy.”
“That so?” he said, trying desperately to keep his eyes on the screen in front of him, heedless of the number ticking down. It was a timed stage, but Wes couldn’t bring himself to move his fingers the small distance to press pause.
“Yup.” His tail loosened his hold around Wes’ waist. “Am I holding too tight?”
“No—” Wes cleared his throat, mortified at the crack in his voice. “Nope.”
“Cool.” Danny’s tail tightened, slithering a little higher around his chest. He exhaled deeply, warm air ruffling the hair on the back of Wes’ neck. “I’m gonna just chill like this for a while.”
This was too much. Not in a bad ‘skin crawling’ way. Definitely not in a ‘if you touch me I will literally scream’ way. Just—
It was just too much, okay? It made him feel warm and fuzzy and—and—
It made him wonder what would happen if he just forgot about—
The game over screen chimed on the television.
Wes pressed continue.
It was dangerous. It wasn’t in his plans. It was a disaster waiting to happen.
And what of his soulmate? In and out of the hospital for years and then when she finally found him—when she finally braved her illness, and stepped out to the world to find her destined partner—
Would Wes just be… hanging on Fenton’s arm? Just like that?
Wes shook his head. Jamming the buttons on the controller with more force than necessary.
No. He wouldn’t be swayed. This was just his dumbass hormones acting up.
Objectively Fenton was pretty cute— for a guy, he meant ‘cute for a guy’—and this used to happen all the time when he first joined the basketball team. Totally normal.
Wes was gonna find his soulmate, she was going to be awesome, and maybe they could team up to harass Fenton when he was fighting ghosts. To get payback for all the times he invited himself over whining about tummy aches and stiff shoulders.
Yeah. Just stick to the plan, Wes. Everything will be fine.
---
Everything was not fine.
He kept—kept thinking about it. Late at night, regardless of if Fenton was laying on his couch or not.
Kept wondering what it would be like to play with his hair, to hold him in his arms, to kiss—
Wes pounded his fists on his desk, sending his papers flying.
The teacher, a substitute for English since Mr. Lancer was out sick, rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Wes got after school detention.
Fed up, Wes cornered Manson and Foley later in the day, between classes, asking why Fenton kept showing up and being annoying, clingy, or both. They shared some kind of look between them and then explained it was just a thing with Fenton. Apparently, he’d always loved hugs and high fives, but his penchant for seeking touch seemed to increase after becoming half-ghost.
The running theory was that since he was getting into fights so often, and subsequently getting much more badly hurt than before his accident, he sought out comfort in proportion to how injured he was. And the best comfort to him was touch.
It was a pretty sound theory, considering everything, but Wes pressed them harder. They hadn’t explained why he continued to show up at Wes’ house no matter where his last ghost attack was—no matter if there was a ghost attack literally right around the block from one of their houses.
—Not that he’d ever been to either of their houses, but he of course needed to scope out Fenton’s friends to see if he could gather some damning evidence from them. It had ended up pretty fruitless, but he had their addresses pinned to his bulletin board.—
The whole thing made no sense.
And the way Fenton was starting to squirm into Wes’ heart was dangerous. Wes needed to find his soulmate, the person destined to love him one way or another. That was the only person he’d allow himself to be with. Anyone else would be too risky. Too vulnerable without guarantee.
Still they dodged the question. Trying to trick him into thinking a ghost was behind—oh, hmm, that was a ghost.
Later, when he had ducked into an empty classroom to avoid the attack, when Fenton and his friends had caught the ghost, he would overhear Manson and Foley teasing Fenton over some guy he had a crush on.
Wes would wait to sneak out long after they left to head home, trying to ignore the crushing grip around his heart.
---
Finally. Finally.
A lead. A real tangible plausible lead. On his soulmate— his soulmate!
Wes screamed a little to himself.
God. God. He knew she was real. He knew she was going to be okay. But more importantly, he knew she was real!
He was straining himself not to print out the article on his monitor, barge into his dad’s room, and scream, “I fucking told you!”
Of course, despite his amazing discovery, that would get him grounded and part of his allowance put in the swear jar, so he settled for rereading the words on the screen again.
“Wraith Makes A Splash!” read the headline, followed by a girl who looked similar to Fenton’s ghost form standing over top the remains of Skulker’s soaking wet and sparking suit, while holding the little green ghost by his foot. The article went on to say the girl called herself ‘Wraith’ and used water-like attacks to short circuit and punch through Skulker’s suit. When asked for a statement, she shrugged and said she didn’t really have anything else to say. When asked to pose for a picture, however, she eagerly agreed.
The article also mentioned the time she had appeared on the scene. And Wes—
Ever since he’d started investigating his soulmate, he’d noted down the exact times his vision faded from full colour to black and white. Had a little notebook that he carried everywhere just for that purpose.
And his most recent entry matched near perfectly with Wraith’s appearance, with his entry being recorded only a few minutes earlier. Factoring in for travel time from wherever she was coming from, it was a no brainer.
And the fact that she looked so similar to Fenton meant that she might be half-ghost too. With a human form.
She might’ve been going to his school.
The thought made him giddy.
So giddy, in fact, he didn’t notice Fenton appearing in his room until the boy stuck his face in front of Wes’, his own grin on his face.
“Whatcha smiling about?”
Wes jumped, smacking Fenton in the face and falling backwards in his chair. The back legs tipped dangerously and just as Wes started to get that weightless feeling that comes with falling, a hand grabbed his shirt. His torso was saved from the fall, but his legs, unfortunately, weren’t.
“Fuuuuck,” he said, trying to breathe through the pain. Fenton pulled him up into his arms and set him on his bed. After being set down, Wes immediately grabbed for his calves, rubbing at the muscles to attempt to soothe them. “Hell of a time to not bother with the window,” he hissed.
“I did use the window. Just went through it.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“You looked,”—Fenton looked away—“busy.”
“Hasn’t stopped you before.” He groaned and laid back on the sheets. “What do you want? I’ll smack you if you say you want another bandaid.”
“No, I, uh,”—he quickly glanced at the screen and back to Wes—“wanted to tell you about someone, but I think you already know. I might’ve gotten a bit too excited.”
“‘A bit,’ he says.”
“Hey, it’s not everyday my cousin comes to visit, y’know.”
Wes perked up, pushing himself to sit up. “Wraith is your cousin?” He furrowed his brows. Thought of the very clear physical similarities. “Are you sure about that?”
“Well, that’s what we tell everyone anyway. And how we like to call our relationship.” Fenton pushed him to lay down again. “She’s really my clone. Courtesy of one of Vl— Plasmius’ messed up schemes.”
“You can just tell me his name. I’m not gonna tell anyone.” Fenton raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I’ve given up on outing secret identities.”
“Oh yeah? Since when?”
“Uhh,”—Shit, he couldn’t just say ‘since I got an annoyingly inconvenient crush on you that still hasn’t gone away even after finding my soulmate’—“Since Dash stopped wearing Axe body spray at the start of the semester.”
“He did not.”
“He did.”
“Source?”
“DJTM.”
“‘Dude, just trust me’? Really?” Fenton moved Wes’ hands away and started rubbing his calves himself. Wes very carefully kept himself relaxed, hoping beyond hope Fenton couldn’t hear his heartbeat thumping loudly in his chest. “You think I didn’t know what that meant? I’m insulted.”
“I’m insulted by how much of a blabbermouth you think I am.”
“It’s not that—” He paused. “Well, it’s not just that.”
“Hey! I’m not dumb enough to try outing somebody way stronger than you!”
Fenton tapped a hand to his chin. “So if I was, say, the mayor would you still try outing me?”
“Weird choice, but ehh,”—Wes wiggled his hand—“maybe. Depends on the circumstances.”
“You mean the circumstances of how I become the mayor or how much you end up liking me being the mayor?”
“Both. Also depends on if you still embarrass me, but in front of the town this time.”
Fenton’s lip twitched and he looked like he was holding in laughter, though Wes didn’t think he’d said anything particularly funny. “Listen, okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t think people would actually make fun of you this long.”
“Aha! But you did expect them to make fun of me!” He crossed his arms. “You should prove me right and reveal yourself to the school to make it up to me.”
Fenton huffed a laugh. “Not a chance. I’ll bring some donuts next time I come though.”
“Who says I’ll let you in next time?”
“You will,” he said simply, an easy smile on his face. As if those two words were some kind of absolute truth in the world. Wes didn’t know how to feel about that. “Anyway, we’re getting off topic. How come you were looking up Wraith?”
He lit up with the reminder of his earlier discovery, sitting up to grab Fenton’s shoulders. “I finally did it! I found her! Wraith is my soulmate!”
Fenton stared at him, the smile sliding off his lips in his shock. “What?” he said faintly.
Wes nodded. “It all makes sense! My vision keeps switching between full colour and grayscale because my soulmate is a half-ghost! Her!” He pointed at the monitor, a wide grin on his face. “All this time and effort and knowing I was right finally paid off!” He gripped Fenton’s shoulders tighter. “You have to introduce me.”
“But,” he said, sounding absolutely dumbfounded. “That’s impossible. Ellie can’t be your soulmate.”
“I get the whole wanting to protect your younger family members thing—not literally because unfortunately Kyle and Easton are older than me—but like, in general, I get it. However,”—he leaned closer to Fenton, ignoring how it made his traitorous heart flutter—“I won’t let your stupid overprotectiveness stop me from meeting her.”
Fenton pulled away, looking a little uncomfortable. “I mean, if you wanna meet her so bad, I’m not gonna keep her away or anything, but I’m telling you it’s impossible she’s your soulmate. Literally,”—he waved a hand, movements jerky, robotic—“she might look our age, but she was only created six months ago. You’ve been dealing with your soulmate dying way longer than that.”
And just like that, Wes’ world was crumbling down, brick by brick, piece by piece.
It was a possibility, in the back of his head, that the fact the timestamps didn’t line up exactly was an indication that this new ghost girl wasn’t his soulmate.
But what were the alternatives? What else could possibly explain his soulmate’s situation?
Plasmius was already ruled out. Wes had watched Fenton’s friends take care of him on the news once, while Fenton himself was huddled next to him, having knocked on his front door—in human form—to ask to stay with him a while. Wes’ vision had stayed in full colour long after Manson and Foley managed to blast the shit out of him, yelling something about kidnapping bitches getting stitches or something.
Fenton, too, was out. There was that big fiasco with Technus a while back where Phantom was seen fighting him day and night for a few days. Apparently, not the whole time, though, as Wes had seen him in human form when his dad dragged him and Kyle out to go bowling. He was having fun with his friends and looking… happier than before. Though, something about him seemed inherently off. Not that Wes could investigate; he had his own problems.
Those few days with Phantom fighting Technus happened to coincide with the colour perception in his vision deciding to split in half.
One eye could see in colour.
The other couldn’t.
It was incredibly disorienting. And it had terrible timing.
The split colour vision had unfortunately happened at the same time as a practical test in Chemistry. When they were using litmus strips. He tried to ask for his test to be postponed until his vision returned to normal, or at least a longer time frame for the test itself— very adamantly, he might add—but the more he argued—the more frustrated he got—the less Ms. Faluca seemed to believe him. The students too.
And he guessed rumours spread quickly, because what little help he got from his classmates and teachers in other classes started to dwindle drastically.
It lost what little respect he still had with his favourite science teacher. Lost him the scraps of help he was able to argue for over the past two years. Lost what little trust his own father had in him.
There was nothing else.
“Hey,” a soft voice said. He slowly looked up from where he’d been staring listlessly at his lap. “Just ‘cause it wasn’t Ellie doesn’t mean you’re wrong.”
Wes didn’t care about trying to figure out what he meant. “It’s not her. So I’m wrong. My soulmate just doesn’t exist. I’m—” He breathed through the tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m just making it all up. I’ve been one of those few people who never got one and I made this all up for attention. To be special. To get allowances other kids don’t—”
“Hey!” Fenton shouted, slapping his hands on Wes’ cheeks. “Do not say that shit about yourself. You aren’t any of those things.”
“Says who?” Wes said, feeling more present with the stinging pain. “The guy who’s been giving his own soulmate a heart attack every time he transforms?” Wes jabbed Fenton’s chest with each point, his voice raising the longer he went on. “The guy who got himself killed on a dare from his friends? The guy who shows up outside my window pathetically asking for kisses on his booboos and using me as a convenient distraction to forget the outside world? The guy who lets himself get shot at on the daily by his own parents because he’s afraid they might yell at him for keeping it secret?”
“Wes, that’s not—”
“Not what? Not right? Then please, elaborate. What did I say that was wrong? Go on, I’ll wait.” Wes leaned back and crossed his arms. “Maybe if I wait long enough your soulmate will kick it too. Not that you’d care about that.”
Fenton closed his eyes, breathing deeply once. He floated off the bed, towards the window. He put one hand on the frame, pausing.
“You’re my friend and you’re hurting,” he said quietly. “But I can’t be here right now.”
He left.
Quietly and without a fuss.
Wes slammed a pillow over his head and screamed.
---
It took a long time for Fenton to come around again.
Less out of a want to visit and more because of a legitimate injury.
It wasn’t anything that bad—just a knife wound in his shoulder from Skulker—but it still needed to be cleaned and bandaged before the blood loss started to get to him.
Fenton stayed silent as Wes wrapped him up.
Wes tied off the bandage. Left to put away the first aid kit.
When he returned, Fenton was gone.
---
The days without Fenton were dull. Much more than before their argument. More, even, than before that first night the ghost boy showed up on his balcony. When he was trying to out Fenton’s identity for revenge.
When his primary focus was finding his—
He kicked his chair, watching as it rolled across the room and knocked into the wall. Ignored his dad yelling to keep it down.
His chest heaved. He grabbed the nearest object, moved to chuck it at the drywall—
He glanced at the window. The lock sitting open, collecting dust.
He felt the anger drain out of him.
It was all over. All that hope that he would finally find someone who understood him, who accepted him, who loved him for who he was not who he might be —
Gone.
And then, the guy he would have probably called a friend, was now avoiding him because of Wes’ own stupid mistakes.
God fuck. What was he supposed to do now?
He moved to set down the little thing in his hand, but paused. Stared at it.
---
“Heyyyy, Wes,” Danny said in a sing-song voice, floating through his window with his arms behind his back.
“WWWWhaaat the fuck do you want?” Wes answered in kind.
“Well, I heard a rumour about someone’s birthday~”
Wes groaned. “Please don’t punch my arm with your stupid ghost strength.”
“What? Oh, right, I forgot about that.” Wes groaned louder. “Oh shut up, I’m not gonna give you birthday beats.”
Wes set his pencil down atop his homework. “You’re not?”
“Nope!” He set a large wrapped box down on Wes’ desk, right on top of his binder. Danny waited, eagerly bobbing in the air. “Go on, open it!”
He tore off the wrapping paper. Dug through a bunch of packing peanuts. Searching and searching and starting to get frustrated and wonder if it was all just a stupid fucking prank —
His hand met something smooth and detailed.
Wes pulled out a small figurine of himself, a clear and tinged light blue, standing confidently and wearing a Sherlock Holmes costume. He turned it over in his hand, looking at all the small details — the small ‘string’ on top of the deer cap, the plaid patterned etchings in the cape, the magnifying glass —
It was amazing.
Danny grinned. “Happy birthday, Wes.”
---
Wes resolved himself, staring at that little figurine.
Next time Fenton came over he’d—well, he would apologize first. Then maybe give him a popsicle.
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Motel Whore
Ellie Williams x female reader !
A/n: ahh you guys after awhile its finally hereeee. Sorry for the wait life's been hectic and I'm not doing the best right now :( going through a pretty difficult breakup that's quite honestly tearing me apart but I hope you guys enjoy this!
Summary: You and Ellie started a fwb. But you want more. She doesn't see that nor notice how you've been acting. You're just her. Motel Whore. (Yes this is based off of the song Motel Whore by Nessa Barrett!)
Warnings: smut, angst, just sadness. Ellies a bit of an ass. Jealousy, slightly rapey Ellie if ya squint. We won't pay attention to that cuz we all know she's a sweetheart and wouldn't do that. Suggestive language. Like always MDNI
Masterlist
Pt 2!
It was just one night. Turning into two. Turning into a week. Months. Almost a year and you still don't know how you're here. Doing this with your friend Ellie. You always thought it'd be easy, the whole friend's with benefits thing, just a simple fuck then leave. You had no feelings for eachother. Wrong. It was the complete opposite. You started getting more attached as the weeks went by. But you had agreed to her request. 'No feelings involved' and 'this isn't a forever thing' you and Ellie were both single.
And you had agreed that it was a good idea to do this until you could fill that void. On the first night you two had slept together you had told her you were sick of being lonely and having to get off by yourself. You said it mindlessly just ranting to a friend. Until she came up with the idea. You were getting in too deep and you had no idea what to do about it.
You were currently at your friends, Dinas. To be exact. A mutual friend of you and Ellie. She had no idea about your secret life with her, no one did for that matter. It was hush hush. That was another agreement that you both made at the start. But secretly. You wanted the whole world to know. Why? You honestly couldn't even answer that. Because, you had no clue yourself.
"Hello, earth to Y/n. I'm talking to you babe." She blurts out, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Oh yeah, sorry." You mumble. "What's up, you seem off." You shake your head. "Nothing, I'm fine." You give her a reassuring smile. But knowing how Dina was she didn't buy it one bit. She was going to pry, but knowing you'd tell her eventually she let's it go.
"Right well, I asked if you wanted to go out for dinner on Saturday." You look straight at her. Fuck, you were suppose to be meeting Ellie. You always did on a Saturday. Or whenever one of you needed a good fuck. "Uhmm, can we make it Friday?" You try to negotiate. She furrows her brows. "I'm going out with Jesse on Friday, he has a date planned." You flop on the bed. "You guys are so cute." She laughs at the pout on your lips. "You'll find it. Trust me. It may even be close you never know." You scoff. "Doubt it." She then thinks for a moment. "Sunday could work?" You smile at her. "Sounds like a plan."
It was now Saturday you were just driving to the motel of this time. Ellie would always text you the address of some crappy motel. It was never the same one, but if it was it would've been months since you went. Where you lived there was a shit ton of em around. So you rarely ever had to visit them twice. You get out of your car and go up to the number she texted you. "Room 147." You speak, going to knock on it, guessing she's already there.
She opens it welcoming you in. You follow, immediately being kissed by her, she was desperate, and honestly so were you. You always can't wait to see her on your planned days, even when they aren't you can't wait to be by her. "God I missed you." You let out a giggle. "It was only 2 days ago since we last did this Ellie." You smile at her as she takes her hoodie off. "Yeah. 2 days too long." She continues to kiss you. Making you let out a soft sigh into her mouth. "I want to ruin you angel." She'd always call you that during these moments.
You were quite different from most of your friends, you would dress with whites, baby pinks, golds, just any baby color really. You weren't super girly and childish but you had this aura about you that was ethereal. Honestly angelic. Ellie fed on that. She was the complete opposite. She loved fucking you senseless, ripping you apart so to speak. She adored how soft you were. Although you weren't completely innocent. This was the most you've done with any body. You always would do stuff to yourself. But what Ellie didn't know. Was she was your first.
"Ruin me Els.. please." You needed it. You craved it. And she loved that. She loved having you completely under her control. She moves her incredibly soft lips against your neck, putting your hands in her hair gently tugging at her locks, making her groan against your skin. She leads you to the bed getting ontop of you, starting to move down your now naked body. You were panting, it was getting hotter in the room. Both of your bodies radiating heat, making both of you going mental for one another. "Gunna dick you down sweetheart." And she did, just that.
It was now after and like always she was getting dressed immediately. You were always left sitting there, feeling sorry for yourself. "I've been meeting up with some other girls that I've met recently for a quick fuck and I'm meeting one of them right now." She states as she puts her jeans back on. You felt something brew in your stomach. Was it jealousy, disgust? "Oh, I see, well have fun." She grabs her keys. "If you can't be bothered going home, I booked this room out for the night so you can just stay here if you'd like." You look at the bed sheets contemplating your whole life right now. "Right." She then leaves not uttering another word.
Room 147.
Just for the night.
Said I was heaven.
That's without saying goodbye.
It was now a Wednesday. You had been in your apartment just tidying up a bit you could not stop the thought of Ellie. It was intoxicating. And you couldn't quite tell if that was a bad or good thing. You tried to take your mind off of it, but this was all slowly getting to you. You knew what you signed up for. But at the same time it's like she's doing it on purpose. You needed your brain to just shut up for a quick second. Then you got a stupid. Stupid idea. Thinking itd help.
You shook your head. It shouldn't hurt the way it does. You're not even dating her. But oh how it did. The image of her tattooed hand rubbing up some other girls thigh. It made you want to physically puke. But you needed to stop that feeling. You were both single. You had no rule over her. Which meant neither did she. Maybe you should go out more find someone else. You just shake your head again, waiting to see how later pans out.
Later came round slow. You'd been feeling off all day. You don't know why this would make you feel better because honestly you always felt like shit afterwards. You felt used. Even if you wanted this it just felt worthless, were you wasting your time? Should you just call it quits before it's too late. What if it is too late. You were already at the said motel, sitting on the bed waiting. She then comes through the door, looking like she's in a rush. You furrow your brows at her. "Sorry stayed a bit longer." You just nod. Knowing it was one of the girls she's been doing it with alongside you. "You alright love?" She asks as she takes off her jeans. It felt wrong. This all felt so wrong.
You lie. "Yeah I'm good. Just really bored Els. Needed you." What are you doing. Why hurt yourself like this. She smirks, getting on the bed with you. "Yeah baby? How badly hm." She leans closer to your face inches away. Leaning down to kiss you, you relish in it. She begins taking your clothes off, leaving you in your specifically picked out lingerie. It was red, with lace, and silk. You'd hope that maybe this will get her to notice you as something more. See you in something as special. But oh boy were you. Wrong. Making you feel even more stupid as she takes it off, no comment, no nothing. You felt cold. And not because of the fact you were naked. You felt icy, inside and out. You felt that pukey feeling again.
And just like everytime you two fuck, she was up and about to leave again. "So uhm where are you going?" You ask, knowing the answer but still asking regardless. "One of the other girls." You nod. "Do any of them know about me?" She looks up at you, your figure still on the bed. "No. No one knows about this. And that's what we agreed on right?" You nod, looking at her. "Have fun." Your response was cold. Cold like your body.
Am I just a secret.
You love to hide.
Turn off your location when, you come over late at night.
You were currently out with Dina, doing your usual girly shopping, trying on all sorts of clothes and shoes. "Hey what do you think of these pumps?" She asks. You nod. "Suit you." You say bluntly. You don't particularly like the mood you've acquired over the last few months, but you had yourself to blame for that one. "Ok what is up your ass girl. And you are telling me this time." You sigh. "Nothing Dee I'm just not in a good place right now." You softens her look. "Please just talk to me. I'm worried about you babe." You hated that, you never ever wanted to worry. Or upset anyone, at all. "Promise to talk to you in future." You give her a smile. "You better." She winks at you.
"Right anyways, positive vibes. I saw this cute skirt that was definitely you. Wanna go try it on?" You nod smiling genuinely this time. You continued to do this, going around the stores when you got a text.
You absolutely hated yourself for getting into it. You should've stopped sooner but you just can't. And you still don't know why. You couldn't keep treating yourself like this it's time this ends.
You arrive at the motel that she mentioned. Knocking on the door, quickly getting tugged in. She's immediately kissing you, your lips, your neck. She slides her thumb over your bottom lip. You let out a breath. "Ellie-"
"Shhh. I need to fuck the shit out of you angel. Need it." You just nod, giving consent but not fully in the mood for this. You're so stupid. What is wrong with you, you're so blinded. She takes your clothes off, getting you to lay on the bed, but she thinks for a moment. "Uh uh, ass up." You look right at her. "Bu-" She flips you over, going to grope your ass, your face hiding in the pillow. She attached her strap, without any thought pushing into you rough. And hard. You let out a slight gasp.
"Fuck. I needed this." She mumbles, watching as it goes in and out of you. "Using you as I please." And for the first time in all of this mess, you felt tears, hot well needed tears. You're so thankful she couldn't see your face. But it truly hurt. Usually those words wouldn't get to you. But it's how you've been feeling. Used. Abused. In a mental way. It was hurting. Every little bit of it hurt. This feeling wasn't at all good, you just wanted it to be over. So. You faked your orgasm. And like always it ended with her leaving and not uttering a word. You were still faced down in the pillows pretending you were sleeping. Although you don't think it made much difference. You just couldn't look at her. Not with your makeup stained face. From the tears.
Check in check out.
One night stay, you're out the door.
You treat me, like a motel whore.
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