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anne-i-write · 3 years

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sweet love

| who would have known that the local bakery could get sebastian to show his soft spot |

sebastian moran x reader

word count: 3609

tw: sexual implications but no actual spice (mostly from sebastian’s “flirting”)

a/n: a little new years gift from me to all of you! i’m sorry it took so long to get another post up but i enjoyed writing this one! hopefully sebastian isn’t too ooc in this idk ig i just have a thing for making characters ooc but it’s very sweet and possibly tooth rotting. i also realize that i got carried away making this one and now you can read through my brain rot lol. ALSO APPARENTLY HES 6’6 THE MAN COULD ABSOLUTELY PUNT ME WHAT anyhow, i hope you all enjoy!! p.s. if you see grammatical errors and incoherent sentences, i just copy pasted from google docs lmao good luck

Sebastian grumbled under his breath, annoyed with the work that William had him do.

“‘Those who do not work in this house aren’t treated as people.’” Sebastian scoffed as he glanced over at the list. “Louis should be glad I’m on good terms with William.”

The ex-colonel should’ve been back at the estate an hour ago but he felt somewhat spiteful and decided to stay out longer. He had finished everything he needed but he had no clue what to do. It was already lunch and his stomach was silently growling but he refused to face the brothers just yet.

That was until he stopped in front of a quaint bakery with the words Fox’s Biscuits painted on a hanging sign.

“Isn’t this…” He looked at the bakery window, mouthwatering biscuits on display for everyone to see.

“These are the biscuits Father bought for me when I was younger.”

Longing for a sense of his childhood, Sebastian walked into the small shop.

In an instant, the sickly sweet smell of chocolate hit his nose and the bell above the door rang out. It was a small space but one could feel the dedication put into the little treats. “Hello?” Sebastian called out as soon as he realized he had been alone for at least two minutes.

“Just a moment!”

Crashes and clangs could be heard from behind a door that presumably led to a kitchen. You burst through the door, your apron stained with chocolate and your right cheek was covered in a light dust of flour.

Sebastian stared at you with wide eyes, not sure if he should focus on the disorderly ruin that was yourself or the absolute charm that you carried. “You have a little something—” He pointed to his cheek and your cute eyes widened a smidge.

You frantically turned around, swiping at both cheeks and turning around when you felt like you were clean. “How may I help you today?”

Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat when you smiled widely, his cheeks feeling a little flush. He shook his head.

“Those biscuits by the door; how much are they?” You took a step to the side to see which one he was talking about. “Oh, it’s 10 shillings for each one.” You informed him, walking to the stacked treats with a cloth in hand. “How many would you like?”

A sly grin painted Sebastian’s features and he turned to face you. “3 pieces please.” You barely picked up the second biscuit before you felt a presence looming behind you. “Perhaps, I can have you too if I pay extra.” He whispered in your ear.

Heat spread across your face as you quickly shoved the rest of the biscuits in the small bag. You shoved the biscuits his way and held out your other hand expectantly. “Th-That’s 30 shillings!” You cursed the way you stuttered.

Sebastian laughed at your flustered state as he handed you the payment. He shot you a teasing glance.

“I can’t bake very well but I can show you how good I am with my hands.” Your eyes widened again at the implication and you shoved him towards the exit.

“Thank you for coming to our bakery!” You breathed out a sigh of relief. One patron down… only many more to come.

The ex-colonel swung the bag leisurely as he strode into the manor, forgetting about lunch. “Where were you, Sebastian?” Louis asked as soon as he opened the door.

“Getting myself food.”

The bell rang in your little family shop and you smiled, heading out to greet the next customer with freshly baked biscuits in hand.

“Good afternoon–” Your smile dropped when you realized who came into the bakery.

“What’s with the frown, sweetheart?” Sebastian cooed and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you not wish I would come back?”

“I wish you never came at all.” The man stilled for a moment but laughed when you walked past him to restock the display case. “You were here yesterday, were you not?” He turned to see you carefully placing the treats on the platter. “Yes but I’m here to buy more of those delicious biscuits you sell.”

Sebastian stalked closer to you just as you spun around to point the tray in his face. “Personal space, please.” He raised his hands in resignation and backed up. You walked back to the counter to place the warm tray on top. “You weren’t complaining yesterday.”

“I didn’t expect yesterday. Now, how many biscuits would you like?” Before he opened his mouth, you continued. “And buy enough so I don’t have to see you again.”

Sebastian laughed again, enjoying your quips. “You seem very spirited today, m’love.” You rolled your eyes. “Either you buy something or you can get out of the shop.” The man walked towards you but you stood your ground this time, arms crossed.

“Your biscuits are delicious but I bet you taste even better.” Your face heated up and Sebastian grinned. “Th-The way out is right behind you.”

Why do I always stutter?

“You’re adorable when you get shy on me.” You shot him a pointed glare and he chuckled. “I’ll have the whole display.” Sebastian thoroughly enjoyed the way your shy attitude appeared when he spoke.

“Th-The whole—” Sebastian chuckled and leaned on a nearby wall. “Yes, sweetheart; the whole case.” Of course, you needed the money but could the man even afford it?

“Th-That’s 100 shillings.” Sebastian took another glance at the display and shook his head. “Come now sweetheart, all of that is at least 600 shillings.” You shook your head.

“600 shillings is too much!” The thought of even getting mad at his previous words flew out of your head as he insisted on paying the full price. “Please, I’ll lower the price.”

Sebastian smiled as he reached into his coat and pulled out a satchel of coins. “It must have taken a painstakingly long time to make all those biscuits, it’s only right I pay you in full.” He placed the bag on the counter and you slid it back towards him. “I don’t have time to count 100 shillings! Please, that would be more than enough.”

This continued on for another ten minutes before he finally got you to settle on paying half of the original price.

“Enjoy your biscuits!” You called out to him just as the door barely closed behind him. Thankfully the door had a large glass pane and he turned around, offering a small wave before walking off.

You watched as he left the front of the shop and your eyes drifted to the empty display case.

“What in God’s name happened.”

Sebastian was aware that the last time he saw you was the other day, but he did comprehend that coming back the day after buying 60 biscuits would look rather odd. Telling Louis he had to run an errand in the town, the ex-colonel set off to your little bakery. Considering how empty it was the last two times he saw you, Sebastian expected it to be the same.

What he didn’t expect was a large crowd that seemed too big to be inside of the bakery.

Sebastian carefully opened the door and was greeted with the bustling sound of people chatting as they waited for their treats. Being the tall man he was, he searched for you in the crowd until he saw you rush out of the kitchen with your hair a complete mess.

“Thank you for being so patient, have a great day!” You said breathlessly and the patron nodded, wishing you well before leaving. They passed by Sebastian and he watched as they left the shop. He turned his attention back to you, who wore the same smile that made his heart stutter as you helped the next customer.

God only knows how long Sebastian was in the shop but the last customer left and you slumped against the counter. “Is that how you hold yourself in front of your patrons?” You groaned and he laughed.

“You bought 60 biscuits the other day and I still have to make the next batch, why are you back?” You glanced up at him and he shrugged. “Can I not wait for the biscuits?” You kept staring at him and he shot you a questioning glance.

“I can give you an estimated time for when the biscuits are done.” You yawned as you stood up and stretched. “I saw you come in a while ago, do you not have anywhere to be?”

Sebastian leaned against the counter and sighed. “Not today.”

Not having the energy to make him leave, you simply walked back into the kitchen and he watched as the door swung behind you.

It had been three minutes since you disappeared behind the doors and Sebastian was about to leave before you emerged from the kitchen. “If you’re staying until I make the next batch, then I want you to try this.” You said as you place down a small plate with two chocolate covered biscuits. “My father doesn’t know about these so I want to see if these taste good.” He took a glance at the plate and looked up at you.

“You couldn’t try them yourselves?” He asked as you stood across from him, arms folded. “I’d be favored to like them because I made them.” A beat of silence passed as you stared at each other.

“They’re not poisoned, if that’s what you’re worried about.” An impressed look crossed Sebastian’s face as he picked up the biscuit and ate it. You watched closely as the man in front of you chewed your creation. “Is that jam and cream?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s indecent.” Sebastian snorted as he took another bite. “You sound like my mum.” You smiled softly as he started to reach for the second one.

“Keep staring like that, I might have to eat something else.” He said as he winked at you.

“Y-You—!”

Sebastian’s visits became routine and each time he came in, your day got a little better. You scoffed. Like you would ever tell him that.

“Darling!” Sebastian called out as he opened the door. “You know, I don’t even know your name and you’ve been coming here for two weeks.” You stated as you cleaned down the counter.

“Aw, you want to put a name to a face so you can moan it tonight?” He cooed and you slammed your towel down, flustered. “O-One day without suggesting those things! I-Is that too much to ask?” Sebastian laughed and you went back to furiously wiping down the counter.

He smiled as he walked towards you and placed his hand on yours. “If you keep scrubbing like that, the wood will wear down.” You sighed and relaxed your grip on the washing cloth. “Your hands are warm.” You said and he chuckled.

“The cloth’s gone cold.” He pointed out and you rolled your eyes. “I didn’t realize.” Sebastian snorted and took the cloth out of your hands. “Here.” He took both of your hands and held them in his, breathing out slowly on them. He looked at you, taking note of the dark circles under your eyes.

If you were working yourself that much, he would make you take this short break to relax.

You looked up at your hands and suddenly felt shy at the intimate contact. “(Y/N),” you muttered, looking away.

Sebastian glanced up at you and huffed softly. “Sebastian.” You continued to let him warm up your hands.

A serene silence fell over the two of you as he exhaled softly on your hands.

That was until your sister barged into the shop, back from the market. “(Y/N)!” All three of you paused as you stared at each other. You watched as your sister’s eyes traveled from yours to your intertwined hands and you instantly flared up.

“I was just handing him biscuits!” You yelped, yanking your hands out of Sebastian’s. You looked at him and nodded your head towards the exit. “Thank you so much for coming!” Sebastian grinned and he leaned in closer to you. “I’ll come back for you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

He knew he said this loud enough for you sister to hear. “Good day!” He smiled innocently, nodding to the girl by the door and walked out.

You watched as he left, not noticing your sister walking up and taking her place next to you. She watched with you as Sebastian walked away and took note of the subtle starry gaze in your eyes.

“Now I understand why you always want to watch the shop.”

You fidgeted as Sebastian walked into the shop once again. What was this? His 40th time at the shop? You shook your head. It didn’t matter.

I will ask him!

“What’s troubling you, sweetheart?” Even through the teasing tone, you could hear some worry and you just decided to spit it out.

“Would you like to accompany me to the moorish dance tonight?” Sebastian’s eyes widened as you stared up at him with unintentionally large eyes. The man knew he had a persona to hold in front of you but felt himself failing as he struggled to fight the blush rising on his cheeks.

“Only if you’ll accompany me to my bed tonight.” He watched as your eyes narrowed and you puffed out your chest, crossing your arms. “Forget I asked.” He laughed as you turned away from him. “I’m just playing around!” You stuck your tongue out childishly and turned away again.

“You’re pouting!”

“No I’m not!”

You two continued to bicker until he apologized, albeit through laughs. “I’m serious though, Sebastian.” He looked at you with a fond smile and he exhaled.

“I’d be honored.” You turned to face him with the same smile you used when you first greeted him, except this time it was wider and you looked like you were about to bounce over the counter. “But I really thought I would be the first to ask you.”

“Let customs lay themselves to rest for a bit, Sebastian.”

The dance was some time later at night so you decided to close shop early and walk around the town with Sebastian.

He had never seen you so talkative before and it was very interesting to see you speak without having to put him in his place every five minutes.

“So, do you and your sister run the bakery by yourselves?” Sebastian asked as you walked down the bustling road. “Lately. My father had been overworking himself so my sister and I decided to take over for him.” You smiled as a girl ran past your legs, her little brother following shortly after.

He watched on with a fond look as you continued talking about the bakery and all the baking mishaps that made you the person you were today. “That sounds like it requires a lot of effort.” You chuckled as you reached a secluded tree, not too far from the town but enough to be alone.

“It does, but the son of my father’s friend likes to help from time to time.” The sound of a possible competitor peaked his interest and sat down beside you on the grass. “The son of your father’s friend?” You nodded as you stared at the town and leaned on the tree.

“He’s a wonderful boy, very enthusiastic about helping me and my sister.” You turned to face him with an excited expression. “Oh, I’ll introduce you at the dance later! He’s helping the men set up but we should be able to see him!” The alpha male in Sebastian refused to let himself lose the one good thing he could possibly have in his life.

“You hid the whole jar?”

“Mrs. Pettor makes the best jams! I wasn’t going to let my family finish it!” Sebastian laughed as you defended yourself.

It was almost time for the dance and you both were walking to the town center.

“I’ve been talking all this time.” You realized and you turned to Sebastian. “Tell me more about—” You cut yourself off with a squeak as you were lifted off of your feet.

Sebastian watched as a blonde boy swung you around. “A-Alexander!” The boy put you down, a grin on his face.

The blond boy looked at you and you smiled back before Sebastian cleared his throat. “Oh, right!” You turned to face Sebastian and grinned. “Alexander, this is Sebastian! Sebastian, Alexander!” The shorter man held out his hand, blue eyes instantly hardening.

“Hello Sebastian,” Alexander said as Sebastian shook his hand. “Alexander.” You looked between the two and felt a tense aura emanating from them before you clapped your hands.

“Shall we go to the dance?” Alexander let go of Sebastian’s hand and immediately faced you. “Of course!” The blond grabbed your hand and you were barely able to get ahold of Sebastian’s before Alexander took off running.

Cheers and music filled the air and the sound of shoes hitting stone echoed throughout the streets. Despite knowing most of the faces, you spent most of your time talking with Sebastian about stories from each of your lives.

“(Y/N)!” You turned your head and saw Alexander heading towards you, out of breath and sweaty from dancing. You excused yourself from the conversation and Alexander stopped in front of you. “I never did thank you for working more than you should have these last few days.” You laughed as you waved him off. “It’s nothing you should thank me for, Alexander. My sister helped so it wasn’t all bad.”

Alexander took a glance at Sebastian, who had been mobbed by most of the town women and looked like he was trying to hold his own. “Would you like to dance?” His question caught you off guard. “I invited Sebastian, I couldn’t leave him…” You turned to see a group of girls crowding around the man and your smile faltered. “One dance wouldn’t hurt.”

“Sebastian!” He looked up from the group of girls and saw you waving. He was about to move until he saw your hand in Alexander’s. “I’m going to dance for a bit!” You laughed as Alexander pulled you to the dance area. Alexander chuckled at you as you told Sebastian of your whereabouts. At least you had the decency to tell him you were dancing with another man.

“So how’d you meet Sebastian?” Alexander asked as you danced to the music. “He came into the shop one day and just kept visiting!” You smiled and the boy in front of you exhaled softly, deciding to drop the topic and talk to your sister about it later.

The former colonel no longer focused on the girls in front of him as he watched you laugh hard at something Alexander said and his heart beat faster in his chest. Out of jealousy or awe, he couldn’t tell. But the way your eyes shone under the golden glow of the street lamps told him to move and get you.

He pushed his way through the crowd of ladies and kept his eyes trained on your carefree figure. Your skin looked so beautiful under this light, maybe you were the one who lit up the town. Your smile alone had enough energy to do so anyway.

“May I have a dance with (Y/N)?” Sebastian asked as he reached you and Alexander. The blond man smiled and your eyes sparkled in delight. “Of course.” Alexander gently let go of your hand and placed it in Sebastian’s.

“Thank you Alexander!” You called out and he turned around, sending you a soft smile and a small wave before walking towards your sister.

You turned your gaze back to Sebastian and you grinned. “Did you get jealous?” Sebastian scoffed before shaking his head. “I don’t get jealous.” You laughed as you felt Sebastian pull you closer. “I saw you looking at Alexander like he was going to steal me away.” You pointed out with a smug smile.

“He did steal you away.” You grinned at him.

“You’re pouting.”

“N-No I’m not!” You laughed and watched as the tips of his ears turned pink. “Aw, you’re adorable when you get shy on me!” You cooed, using the exact same words he said to you a while back.

“You—” He picked you up by the waist and you squealed as he lifted you up. “You think you’re so smart.” He muttered as he placed you back down and you looked up at him, your skin shining from sweat and short breaths leaving your lips.

He instantly leaned in, placing a short kiss on your lips and your eyes widened before trying to chase him before he pulled away. “You do taste better than your biscuits.” You buried your head in Sebastian’s chest in embarrassment and he laughed as he started to lead the dance once more.

“Because of that, I’m charging you the rest of the 60 biscuits you bought.” Sebastian feigned hurt. “But that’s too much!” You rolled your eyes and smiled up at him. “I’m sure if you don’t want to pay, Louis can help me find something for you to do to pay me back.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed and you giggled at the sour look on his face. “I’m sure you can help around the shop to pay them off, if you don’t want Louis to get involved.” His eyes softened before gently grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss to it.

“If it means I get to see you everyday, it will have been worth it.”

tags: @zoehanji @infinitebells

#moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #sebastian moran x reader #sebastian moran

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starrynite7114 · 3 years

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roommates: four

A/N: Hello everyone! Happy weekend! Hope your week has been a good one! So my brain has been going 100mph. I’m trying to calm it down and focus on one thing, but that’s proving to be hard. LOL BUT I’M TRYING. Sorry the updates are taking longer, I’ve been getting ideas and it just takes over my brain. School is starting back up next week so I’m going to try my best to go on a writing spree this weekend so I can try and update every week. Emphasis on TRY. But thank you for continue to support me, you all are just too lovely.

Also, I have two Angel request I’m going to try to post since they are half way done along with the EZ request. I’m really lagging on EZ, but it will be posted.

EZ request

Dance (Angel)

Always you (Angel)

Lake Part Two

Sex Guru Angel

Everything is you: part 12

Graduation (EZ request)

Rio request

Two Daddy Angel request: Snuggling and Trip to the aquarium

Groupchat for updates! Please join since the tags could be a bit iffy at times!

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know! My tag list is a little messy, but please let me know if you want to be added!

Masterlist

roommates

Word count: 7697

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, smut, angst

You looked at your closet, thinking of what to wear tonight for your date with Angel. He suggested that you wore something comfortable, casual, no dressy outfits.

‘But if you want to wear a skirt for my benefit, by all means mami, go right ahead.’

Angel was too much, but you weren’t complaining. Ever since you agreed to go on a date a few days ago, Angel has been occupying your bed. He always reasoned that it was due to the fact that your bed was comfortable, but you’ve slept on his bed before and it was equally as comfortable. You stopped trying to kick Angel out of your bed since you enjoyed his company. And you figured it wouldn’t be long till Angel got over this need to be with you. You felt like he was just scratching some itch about going down memory lane. You didn’t think Angel was interested and you figured this need he had for you would fade. You had no plans on furthering your relationship and it was to protect yourself and Angel. Agreeing to this date, you didn’t regret it, you wanted to go on a date with Angel, see how it was after all these years.

“It shouldn’t be this difficult to pick out clothes.” You sighed, placing your hands on your hips, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“You don’t have to try and impress me, I’m already impressed.”

You jumped hearing Angel’s voice. You turned and found him leaning against your doorframe, looking sinfully good. His kutte was not on him for once. He was wearing a short sleeve black button up, jeans and boots. His hair was slicked back, newly trimmed along with his beard. But you had to remain strong, you couldn’t let Angel know that he made the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Or that whenever he smiled at you, you found yourself flustered since even when you were younger, Angel’s smile was your favorite thing about him. You made it your mission to keep that smile on his face. Whenever Angel was with you, you noticed how carefree he was and that’s all you could ask for.

You and Angel were always able to be yourselves around one another.

No bullshit, nothing.

“Impress you? Absolutely not, I dress for me baby.” You blew him a kiss before turning back towards your vanity. “Besides, just in case I see some other good looking guy wherever we go, at least I’m dressed to impress.” That was a lie, your eyes wouldn’t leave Angel’s tonight, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Look at you talking shit again.” Angel walked over to you just as you stood up from your vanity. When you turned around, you ran into Angel’s chest. One of his arms wrapped around you, while his hand cupped your face. Without any warning, Angel kissed you, which took your breath away as always. You thought that if you kept kissing Angel, the effects of his kiss would wither away, but you were wrong. It was like every kiss was different on a miniscule level, but it was and it always took your breath away. “This ass is mine baby.” He grabbed your ass, a moan escaping your lips. “God, let’s just order pizza and let me show you who that pussy belongs to.” He bit your ear, another moan coming out of you.

You bit your lip and looked up at him, your fingers began to unbutton his button up. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

“No, no, don’t tempt me.” He captured your lips again, his hands stopping you from further undoing his buttons. “I got a night planned for us, but we can definitely have a happy ending later.”

You laughed. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Somewhere nice, fun.” He pulled away from you to stop the temptation he faced.

“So we’re going to a strip club?” You teased.

“Listen, if you want to go to a strip club baby girl, I’m down, but I would rather you strip this outfit for me later tonight.” He twirled you around, your skirt flowing along with the twirl. You wore a white v-neck for your top and a navy blue skirt, shorts underneath.

“Hmm, maybe.” You held up two pairs of shoes, one were heels, while the other were Air Jordan’s.

“Heels or Jordan’s?”

“Jordan’s, you don’t need heels where we’re going.”

“Can you just give me a hint?”

“It would defeat the purpose of a surprise.”

“You’re annoying.”

Angel chuckled. “Learned from your annoying ass.”

Angel had been driving for forty-five minutes and the sun had setted. It was nice to watch the sunset, listening to some old school jams, and with Angel’s hand was intertwined with yours. You could get used to this, but at the same time, you had your reservations. While Angel made it clear that the scars didn’t bother him, it was still an insecurity for you. Why would he want damaged goods? It was a thought that Carmelo basically embedded in your mind. Why would anyone want damaged goods? Why would anyone want to touch a woman who had someone else’s initials carved on them? He wanted to mark you up so that no one else would want you, so he could have you, you would have no choice. It was all about choice with Carmelo. He would be your choice, your only choice. He isolated you, made sure that you had no choice but to stay with him.

But then Medina came along and gave you a choice.

At first, it was just an escape from your reality.

Then the outings with his wife came about and Carmelo didn’t mind since he was mildly afraid of Medina’s wife.

Then eventually he helped you escape Carmelo.

You never asked for details, you didn’t want details. All you cared about was that Carmelo was gone.

“Baby, I lost you.” Angel softly squeezed your hand.

“Sorry,” you offered him a smile and you noticed that he had stopped driving. Looking at the place before you, you smiled. “Angel Reyes, you want to get your ass kicked on our first date?” He brought you to your favorite mini-golf place, a date you two had plenty of times when you were still teenagers.

“This isn’t our first date and kick my ass?” He scoffed. “Baby, daddy’s winning this.”

“Odd term to refer to me as, daddy, but I mean, whatever floats your boat.” You shrieked as you exited your car, grabbing your stuff.

You closed the door and Angel made his way over to you, backing you up against your car. “You’re such a shit talker today.” He smirked. “We should make this interesting.”

“How so?” You were intrigued.

“Let’s make a wager, if I win, you left me fuck you in your car after we finish, but if you win, you could have your way with me.”

“Ooh, or, if I win, we go home right after this, forget the rest of your plans and you can fuck me at home.” You whispered this in his ear, making Angel groan.

“Fuck it, you win, let’s go home.”

“No,” you shook your head. “We just got here, let’s play, just so daddy can hand your ass to you.”

Angel chuckled. “Keep that energy up.”

You were currently at the last hole for mini-golf. Angel was kicking your ass, which didn’t surprise you. You always knew he let you win when you two were younger.

“I can’t wait to have those legs wrapped around me.” He whispered into your ear as you made your way to hit the golf ball.

You scoffed. If you made a hole in one, you could win. But of course, the last hole was rarely the easiest.

“You look good sticking your ass out like that.” Angel licked his lips, the gesture was not amiss by you.

Looking over at Angel, you playfully glared at him. “You’re distracting me.”

“Is that your excuse of why you’re doing so terribly?” Angel smirked.

“Fuck you Angel.”

“That’s the plan baby girl.”

You rolled your eyes and hit the ball. And much like you predicted, you lost. Angel walked with that damn swagger towards you, but it seemed to have grown tenfold. His confidence made Angel so much more attractive. He was already an attractive guy, but this swagger, the smirk on his face, that shirt that accentuated his newly sculpted body, it was sinful.

How could you keep resisting him?

“I’m glad you wore the skirt.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“Easy access.”

You moaned, your fingers became entangled in Angel’s hair, your back arching as he continued to eat you out. His lips parted from your nether lips, the devilish smirk on his lips, your juices make his beard glisten.

“Fuck,” you breathed out. You would never tell Angel he was the best oral sex you ever had. Best sex you ever had, period. “I’m so close daddy.”

“I know baby,” he spat down on your pussy, the added lubrication was not needed, but the mere act of it turned both of you on. Angel slid in two fingers in you, your skirt was bunched up above your stomach, Angel watching his ringed fingers disappear in you. His rings would bump against your entrance, the cold metal making the experience that much more erotic. “So fucking tight like always.”

“Uh huh,” you panted. “Daddy please let me come, let me come on your dick.” Control was something you rarely gave, especially with everything that happened with Carmelo. But with Angel, it was almost natural.

Angel bit your inner thigh. “I told you that you would be begging for daddy’s dick.” His mouth was back on you once again, adding a third finger sliding in and out of you.

“That feels so good.” You whimpered, moving your hips to meet his.

“Don’t move.” He held your hips down, he sucked your clit in, the added sensation felt so good. You felt your legs shaking, the tears welling up in your eyes. Angel had already made you come three times prior to your impending one. “Look at you, my pussy is just clenching my fingers, wishing it was daddy’s dick. You want daddy to stretch his tiny pussy out?”

“Yes daddy,” you begged, your hand resting on his hand that was holding your hip down.

Angel chuckled. He increased the pace of his fingers and before long, you were arching your back, seeing stars as you screamed out Angel’s name. Angel continued moving his fingers in and out, your walls sucking him in, keeping you feeling full. Pushing him away, you moved down your folded middle seats and took a deep breath. Angel’s eyes were locked with yours, licking the juices that were on his fingers. He pulled you towards him, cupping your face as he kissed you, his tongue massaging yours, your hand drifting under his shirt. His lips hovered above yours as he stopped your hand from moving further.

“Not yet baby, let’s eat and then I can fuck that pretty little pussy.” He gave you one last peck and moved down to sit at the edge of your trunk. You two had gotten some In N Out burgers with fries and a shake. Once you were at the lookout that rarely anyone frequented at night, Angel tore your panties off of you and ate you out. Your food was cold now, but you didn’t give a fuck, Angel gave you some of the best orgasms you’ve ever had and you hated him for it.

You sat next to him, the wetness in between your thighs should have made you feel disgusted, but knowing it was due to Angel, it made you wetter. Angel handed you your burger. You didn’t realize how hungry you were till the burger was in your hand. You two quickly ate your burger and fries, the melted milkshake still hit the spot. Angel moved to sit behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his chin on your shoulder.

The view of Santo Padre below you was breathtaking. You always enjoyed the peace and quiet, something Angel always tried to provide for you. Whenever you were stressed out, Angel provided the escape for you and you always appreciated how well he could read you.

“Why’d you come back to Santo Padre?” Angel always meant to ask you when he first saw that you had come back to this little town of his. He didn’t understand why you would come back, there was nothing here.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. After the whole thing with Carmelo, I wanted to disappear. Being up north just had too many memories and I was just embarrassed for everything that happened.” You leaned your head back against Angel’s chest.

“Embarrassed?” Angel’s head lifted, looking at your side profile.

“I was always so strong willed and wouldn’t take shit from anyone.”

“Say that again.”

You playfully elbowed Angel and he laughed, kissing your cheek. “I was embarrassed, I shunned my family and friends. Then when I finally opened my eyes, I could barely open them.” The memories of Carmelo’s abuse never waned, it was always present like it occurred the previous day. It was easier to mask your feelings or the fear you felt during those times. The scars on your back were nothing compared to the scars he inflicted within. How low you felt always came to hunt you. Confidence was always something you possessed, it was reinforced by your family along with your friends. Cheating was a deal breaker and abuse was above that. After the first hit, you always questioned yourself why you didn’t leave, then you realized that the emotional abuse started before the physical. Carmelo caught you in a low point, a patient had died on you, a nine year old and he swept in. The way he belittled you, it made you feel like an inadequate nurse and that’s when the abuse truly started. He knew how to make you feel low, reminding you that due to your inadequacy the nine year old passed.

But you realized now that it wasn’t your fault.

But Carmelo already had done his damage.

It took you some time to recover, but being up north suffocated you. The further south you were the better and for some reason, you ended up in Santo Padre. Your mentor, Pierre, an older ED physician took a job in Santo Padre Medical Center and you followed. Santo Padre always held special memories for you and a change of scenery was needed. You didn’t think you would run into Angel, but fate had another thing planned for you.

“This wasn’t your fault you know.” Angel hated hearing the defeat in your voice, the embarrassment. A man who was supposed to cherish you and protect you was the one who did such incredible damage to you. Angel could not forgive that. He had to find Carmelo and kill the mother fucker. He didn’t deserve to be walking on this earth after what he did to you.

“I know that now. He got me when I was in such a low place. He made me feel like a million dollars, but he also made me feel like I was the lowest scum in the world. I loved him, all I wanted was for him to love me. He always told me he did, that when he hit me, he was trying to correct bad behavior so that I would remain perfect.” You felt your chest tightening up thinking of Carmelo’s words. How he sunk his claws into your brain was something you never understood, but it happened.

Angel didn’t want to indulge in going down memory lane about Carmelo, but he wanted to know just how much he hurt you. Though, Angel realized that this may not have been a good idea since he felt his blood boiling. This was supposed to be your date, he shouldn’t be fucking worried about Carmelo. But he was going to find this man and make sure he endured the pain you went through, even greater than.

“He’ll never be able to touch you again.” Angel whispered against the side of your head.

“Medina took care of him.”

“I know baby, but you’re with me now. He will never go near you again.”

And you believed Angel. As long as he remained your roommate, you felt invisible, untouchable. The Mayans were well respected, well feared in Santo Padre. They didn’t need to be like, their presence invoked different types of emotions from everyone.

“When you get married, you should let me rent out a room so you can assure I would stay safe.” Angel knew your tactic. You were subtly trying to put him in the friend zone by mentioning his future without you by his side. It was cute, but that wasn’t going to work on him. He would show you that he was worth a second chance.

“Why would you need to rent a room when you’re going to be sharing a room with me?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “You’re too smooth Reyes.”

“Maybe, but don’t act like I didn’t just give you a couple of mind blowing orgasms. You can keep trying to push me away, but it’s not going to work.” Angel turned your face towards him, kissing you.

You pulled away, your eyes closed as you relished the feel of Angel’s lips against yours. “Has it always been this intense between us?” Your forehead rested against his.

“Do you just try not to remember our relationship?” He gave you a quick peck again.

“Shut up, I do, but I don’t know.” You turned to face Angel, wanting to see his reaction to your conversation. “Sometimes I look back at our relationship and wonder what would have happened if we had stayed together.” It was a thought that was always at the back of your mind. The what ifs scenario.

What if you stayed with Angel? Where would you two be? Would you two be together? Would you two have fallen apart?

What if you decided to come back to Santo Padre after you became a nurse? Would you two have reconnected?

For years after you left, you thought of Angel often. Your connection was always strong when you were younger and at times you felt it may have been too early for you two. That if you met at a later time, things would have been different. You remembered when Angel would sneak into your room, sleep over and pretend he was coming to pick you up in the morning. It wasn’t often but you enjoyed those late nights, talking about your future. He always spoke about your future, how you would be together. Yet when you told him you love him, he just said thank you.

He was your first love.

And they always said you’ll always love your first love.

It irked you how true it was.

Ever since you came back, seeing how Angel grew up after all these years, the love you had for him resurfaced and it grew stronger. But you weren’t willing to take the risk. Angel never seemed interested to rekindle your relationship till recently. At times, before this whole thing when you would share a bed, you would watch Angel sleep. He had no worries in the world and had to always be touching you while you were asleep. His arms and legs didn’t have to be around you, at times, his fingertips were just touching your arm and he was good. Or his arm would be against yours as he slept on his stomach and it helped his craving to be always touching you.

Angel wasn’t sure when it started, maybe it was after the first time you two shared a bed, but regardless, Angel craved your touch. It was his love language.

“We’d be married by now with at least three kids.” Angel’s answer was so firm and sure.

You grinned, shaking your head. “Yeah? You’re so confident about this.”

“Listen, just because we broke up or we were young, it doesn’t mean our relationship was nothing. I knew that I wanted you for the rest of my life then and it hasn’t changed now. You came back to Santo Padre in your own accord and I knew that meant that this was our second chance and I wasn’t going to fuck it up.” Angel took your hand in his, intertwining it. “I know you’re not ready, I know the wounds he left you are still fresh, but I’ll wait. I’m inpatient, but you’re worth the wait. So all these doubts in your mind? About me not wanting damage goods or your choice to not rekindle previous relationships? That’s well and fine, but I’m here to shut those thoughts down.” He didn’t want to tell you he loves you, not yet. He would wait because he knew when things became too much, your default was to just freeze everything out.

“I’m scared.”

“You have no reason to be.”

And you wanted to believe him, but it was going to take time. You just hoped he didn’t get tired of waiting.

=================

As soon as you stepped through the door, Angel was all over you. Once you managed to lock the door, he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his body. He made his way to your room, softly placed you on the bed. He unbuckled his belt and removed it, your eyes never leaving him. Biting your lip, you stood up and maneuvered him to sit down. Unbuttoning his pants, you kissed him, pulling away so you could help him remove his jeans and boxers. Once they were pooled around his ankles, you got on your knees, wrapping your hand on his cock, your thumb spreading the precum on the tip of his cock. Spitting down at his cock, moving your hand up and down causing Angel to close his eyes. You proceeded to give a few kitten licks on the head of his cock before you engulfed it in your mouth.

Angel groaned, holding your hair together as he watched you hollow your cheeks as you moved up and down his length. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, moaning out your name.

“Fuck baby, you look so fucking hot like this.” You moved away from him, sliding your hand up and down his hard length. You take him all the way in, swallowing around him making Angel groan once again. He was trying hard not to fuck your mouth, but you were making it difficult. Dipping your tongue at the slit on the top of his length, Angel caught the smirk on your face as he lost himself watching you engulf his length back into your mouth. Using both your hands and mouth, Angel laid back on your bed, his hand wrapped around your hair, guiding you up and down. The moans that he was letting out was turning you on, you could feel just how wet you were. Knowing you brought such pleasure to Angel, it made you feel good. “Shit, I’m coming.” You took him in deeper, Angel fucking your mouth, groaning out your name as he came.

You let him go with a pop, you smirked as some of his cum seeped from the corner of your mouth before you put it back inside, swallowing it.

“You’re such a good girl,” Angel sat up, his hand still entangled in your hair. He bent down and captured your lips with his, you moaned as you felt him slightly tug your hair, his lips hovering over yours. “Daddy should reward you for being so good.”

“Please daddy,” you were giving Angel total control tonight. You could always be a brat, but tonight, Angel could have you.

Standing up, you stepped away from him to remove your skirt. Your hand was at the hem of your shirt, but you hesitated. Angel saw your hesitation and he gave you a small smile.

“You don’t have to take it off baby girl, you can keep it on.” He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He wanted to make you feel good. The last thing he wanted was for you to worry about your scars.

You bit your lip and took off your shirt. Angel’s smile widened as he saw your body for the first time. You took off your bra and threw it at him. He laughed and caught you when you jumped on him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your lips together. One of your hands went back down to his length, moving your hand up and down wants again.

“Does daddy want his pussy wrapped around his dick?” Your lips hovered over his lips, smiling as Angel was catching his breath, his attention obviously on the sensations he felt around his length.

“Yeah baby girl, let me get my pussy.”

You positioned yourself above him, slowly sliding down his length. Moaning as your pussy stretched to accommodate him. Throwing your head back, your fingers digging into his shoulders, nails digging in on his skin.

“You’re so big daddy, it feels so fucking good.” You whimpered out as he bottomed out.

Angel looked down at where you two were connected, biting his lips as he waited for you to adjust. You moved up and down, your walls clenching around him making Angel moan your name out.

“Baby, stop clenching my dick.” He chuckled, kissing you to help you relax.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly.

Guiding you to move up and down his cock, Angel watched your face, memorizing every facial expression you had.

“You feel so fucking good baby, tight, wet, always ready for daddy.” Angel whispered against your ear.

Your pace was slow, the burn Angel provided was basically imprinted in your mind. Ever since you two slept together, you haven’t slept with anyone and your dildo, vibrators, definitely did not compare to him, but gain, you would never let Angel know that. Angel’s fingers came in contact with your scar and you slightly froze. Before he could lose you, Angel cupped your face, brought your lips down to his.

“Don’t, stay with me.” He thrusted up into you, your brain fogging as the overwhelming pleasure Angel was giving distracted you. Watching Angel as he licked his thumb, he pressed it against your clit, even adding greater pleasure to you. Increasing your pace, you used his shoulder as leverage as you moved up and down his length, walls clenching around him. “You’re safe, you’re with me and I would never let anything happen to you.”

One arm was around his neck, his hand cupping his face. Your lips were above his, your breath mixing as you chased your high. Angel rubbed your clit, biting his lips as he watched you bounce on his length.

“Yeah baby girl, daddy can feel it.” Angel latched his mouth around your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple.

“Daddy, oh my god, just like that.”

You threw your head back, black stars filling your vision. Both of your arms were around Angel, your walls still spasming around him. Angel peppered your skin with kisses, sucking on a few spots on your neck that was sure to make a mark.

“You were talking so much shit not too long ago and now look at you.” Angel smacked your ass, making you yelp, biting your lip. “Have to stop fighting the inevitable querida.” He grabbed your ass, grinding you down against him.

“You’re so determined about us.”

“I’m confident in every aspect of my life, especially when it comes to you.”

You laughed at his comment, which turned into a choked moan when you felt Angel thrust up into you.

“Can you get on your hands and knees for me?” He questioned, making sure you were comfortable. He wanted to show you that your scars, they were nothing to be ashamed of. It didn’t change you. He would never force you out of your comfort zone, especially about something that truly traumatized you.

“Okay.”

“Put your chest on the bed.”

You did as Angel instructed. You rested your chest against the bed, you turned your head so you could see Angel. He was looking at your back, no trace of disgust in his eyes. For once, you didn’t feel judged, scrutinized or even pitied. He just looked at your scars as if he was memorizing them.

“Angel,” you called out to him, bringing him back to you. “Come back to me.”

Angel was mesmerized by her scars. Thinking of how many times Carmelo must have hurt you, what he used to inflict such damning scars on your back. And that carved ‘C’ on your back, he tried not to focus on Carmelo’s actions, not wanting to lose himself right now, but he was angry he wasn’t there to protect you. It seemed irrational, he wasn’t part of your life then, but if remained a part of your life, Carmelo would have never been able to harm you. All he could think about was covering these bad memories up, a design to show you that with every scar, every hurt he caused and every tear you shed, there was life after and while he could never make you forget what occurred, he would build new memories to show you that you were worth it, that you were beautiful.

That you were loved.

“Sorry baby.” He kissed your back. Angel took his length in his hand, moving it up and down your slit, and pressing it against your clit, teasing you. When he finally slid in, you both groaned, your hands gripping the sheets. “Daddy’s too big, huh?”

You nodded your head, biting your lip drawing blood. At times you wondered what would have happened if you slept with Angel. You’re certain he improved his skills over the years, but fuck, you would have been addicted. And there was no shame, Angel’s stroke game was strong.

“Didn’t hear your answer,” Angel stopped moving, only the tip of his cock inside of you.

“Yes, you’re too big daddy, but I love how you stretch me out.” You gripped the tip of his cock, Angel groaning and pushing back in. You hummed, content that he was buried inside you once again.

Angel slid in and out of you, slow, deep. His slow pace was driving you crazy. You knew he was trying to restrain himself, savoring the moment as best as he could. He heard you sigh, leaning down so his front was against your back. He moved his hands from your hips to your hands that was gripping the sheets. He intertwined your hands, placing small kisses on your upper back before moving to your neck, nipping at your skin, earning tiny moans from you as he stilled inside you again. This wouldn’t be the last time you two would be intimate, but with everything that has occurred, he was just reveling at the moment.

“Daddy, please go faster.” You pleaded, gasping as he began to pound into you.

“Like this querida?” He moved one hand to wrap around your neck, slightly pulling you back so you were slightly lifted off the bed, while his other hand remained on yours. Angel began pounding in and out of you, the pressure he had on your neck was just the perfect added sensation.

You moaned out his name, his hand gripping yours along with the sheets. His lips was beside your ear, grunting as continued to pound into you.

“You look so fucking beautiful.” He coaxed. He felt your walls clenching him, your impending orgasm

“Angel,” the way you whimpered his name, it was intoxicating. It was embedded and his memories, a sound he wanted to head over and over again.

“You ready to cream daddy’s dick?” Angel was close as well, that familiar feeling at the pit of his stomach was there. His pace became stuttered, continuing to pound into you.

“Yes daddy.”

Angel moved the hand against your throat down your front until he reached your tiny nub, the one that’s been screaming for attention. Wetting it with your own combined juices, he rubbed your clit, your orgasm almost came instantly. You cried out his name, your volume would sure have the neighbors aware of what was occurring. Angel came after you, his throbbing cock stilling inside you as he coated your walls. You felt your legs shaking as you came down from this high. Angel slipped out of you, his come seeping out. He smacked your ass, causing you to moan, but that’s all you could do. You were spent in the best fucking way.

Angel kissed his way up your body, turning your head to face him when he got to the top. He kissed you, turning your body so that you were on your back. Cupping your face, the way he caressed made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

“So you gonna quit playin’ and be my girl?” Angel pulled away from you long enough to ask before kissing you again.

This man’s lips were sinful.

Hell, everything about Angel Reyes was sinful.

How was he going to kiss you after asking that?

You sighed, pulling away so his lips hovered above yours. Opening your eyes, you met Angel’s intense stare and caressed his face with your hand.

“I thought I was already your girl?” You teased, closing the gap between you for a quick kiss. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am, are you?” Angel wanted it to be your choice. If you needed more time, he would give that to you.

You moved the back of your hand against Angel’s cheek, his brown eyes looking at you, waiting for your answer. The fact Angel always put the ball on your table, it was different and much appreciated.

“Yes, I am.”

=================

You sat beside your co-worker at work, watching the clock so it would go faster and you could go to lunch. You were at the clinic today and you had a surge in the morning, but currently, you had no patients. Trying your best not to yawn, you hold it in and check your phone. Angel’s name popped up and you smiled.

Favorite Roomie 🍆😏 ‘You want some meat for lunch? 😏’

You cackled.

‘Mmm, feeling veggies today.’

You placed your phone down feeling eyes on you. Looking over, you found your work bestie, Jasmine giving you a knowing look.

“What?” You asked.

“What did BD want?”

“BD?” You were confused by her abbreviation.

“Big dick.”

“Jas!” You playfully smack her. “He’s just being a little shit.” Lifting up your phone, Angel’s reply made you cackle once again.

Favorite roomie 🍆😏

Stop being a little shit, you a rabbit? I know your kind of rabbit. 😏 But for real, what do you want from Wendy’s? I’m in line.

You furrowed your eyebrows.

‘Nuggets and fries, and a frosty.’ ‘Also, how did you know it’s lunch?’

Placing your phone down again, Jasmine shook her head. “You two have been dating for how long now?”

“Two months?” You couldn’t believe the two months passed as quickly as it did. One day you were just roommates, the next he basically moved into your room and the next, he was your boyfriend. The adjustment hasn’t been difficult at all. Angel was always very affectionate, but the biggest difference was the intimacy. The kisses, the sex, and just the sweet little things he would do for you.

“You know it’s been a year at this point. He was just waiting for Adam to be gone and boom, slid in.” Jasmine was ecstatic for you. She was the first friend you made in Santo Padre. When you told her you lived with Angel Reyes, she applauded you. She knew of Angel’s reputation, it was hard to not know about the Mayans. From her friends who had slept with Angel, she heard nothing but raving reviews. And besides that, it seemed that Angel was a solid guy, nice, but ghosted them afterwards. But then when you spoke to her about Angel, the things he did, even she knew he was in love. Then she witnessed your interactions at the Mayans Clubhouse or the BBQ’s you two held at your place, she knew it was only a matter of time.

Picking up your phone, Angel had replied.

Favorite roomie 🍆😏

I literally eat lunch with you every fucking day. You always play like I don’t know you.😒🤔 A creature of habit. Got it baby. You got time to suck daddy’s dick though? 🤔 Also, did you change my motherfucking name on your phone?

You choked on the water you were drinking, shaking your head. Angel has been changing his name on your phone to future husband and you would change it back to your favorite roomie. Ezekiel was named future brother in law, which surprised you.

‘You’re too damn much.’ ‘Hmm, since you’re bringing me food, sure.’ ‘I’m not saying you don’t know me, I just didn’t think you’d keep on track of that.’ ‘Of course I did, you’re my favorite roomie.’

“Did you tell him that you got a job offer in LA from Pierre?”

Pierre, your ED doctor friend/mentor, lived in LA predominantly and did a few shifts in Santo Padre as some community outreach. He worked at Cedars Sinai and got you a job, which was amazing since Cedars Sinai was at the center of LA and you could learn so much more.

“No, I mean, I doubt I’m going to take it.” You shrugged.

“It’s Cedars Sinai, it would open opportunities for you.” Jasmine knew why you were hesitant, but this opportunity didn’t come by often.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Angel’s voice startled you.

“Give me your phone. Favorite roomie.” He scoffed, extending his hand towards you.

“Boy, you’re not just going to demand shit without at least saying hello.” Jasmine scolded.

Angel held his hands up. “Sorry Jas, hello, how you doing, I got you some nuggets from Wendy’s.” He handed her the bag of food he got for her. “Come on baby, phone.”

“Angel, it’s not my break yet.”

“Yes it is, it’s 12:30 on the dot. Let’s go.”

Jasmine chuckled. “Better listen to the asshole over here.”

“That’s right. Listen to me, let’s go.”

You rolled your eyes before hugging Jasmine. Taking your phone, you followed Angel to the van and went to the back where Angel usually set up a blanket for you two to sit in and fool around if you had time.

Settling on the blanket, you take out your food and your mouth watered. “You’re the best babe.”

“Yeah I know,” he leaned over to give you a kiss and grabbed your phone. He unlocked your phone, keeping your phone away as you tried to grab it. “If you change this shit one more fucking time, I’m going to cuff your hands and edge you.”

You gave Angel an incredulous look, pushing him. “Angel, why do you keep changing it? Are you not my favorite roomie.”

“I’m not your fucking roommate, I’ve been upgraded to boyfriend.” Angel scoffed. He didn’t want to be offended by your constant need to change his name on your phone. He figured it was some weird defensive mechanism you had since you were the worst with change. He was surprised you had decided to move to LA, but he realized that you grew up in Los Angeles and moved to Santo Padre at the beginning of high school. He remembered how closed off you were and didn’t really open up till sophomore year and once you did, you and Angel clicked.

“Should I put favorite boyfriend then?” You teased him. The word husband had such certainty to it. You two had just begun dating. Sure, you two dated in high school and you two have been roommates for years, but that didn’t equal immediate marriage.

“Or you can stop playing and put future husband.” Angel rolled his eyes as he took a bite from his burger, shoving a few pieces of fries in his mouth. “We have a party at the clubhouse later, what time should I come get you?”

“Come get me? Angel, I’m not going. I’m going out with Jas, you know this.” You took a bite of your nuggets, leaning against the van. “And don’t even say bring her to the clubhouse, we’ve been planning this for weeks.” Captain Marvel came out and you and Jas had been planning to see it since it was announced.

“Shit, that’s right. Stop by afterward?” He suggested. Being with you was easy for Angel. Eating lunch with you every day, cooking with you at home, grocery shopping, cuddling, laundry, fucking, building furniture you get for the apartment, and fucking, it was all easy for Angel. What he was finding difficult was when you would be lost in your own world, or revert back to just putting this distance between you two as just friends. A few nights ago, you had locked the door and he came home late, he knocked on your door till you finally answered, and you were slightly irate then apologized for locking the door on him.

“Okay.”

You two ate in silence, both of your attention mostly on your Instagrams. Angel didn’t like this type of silence between you two since it was just awkward. You two could usually talk about random topics, but as of late, if you two were together, you would occupy yourself with your cell phone.

“You’re serious about us, right?” The insecurities Angel had screamed at him on the daily. His feeling of inadequacy stemming from him being in the shadow of his younger brother. The love he never felt from his own father, being second best. His mother tried her best and Angel felt she did love him, but his father was a different story. With the hesitancy and the hot and coldness you presented towards Angel, it frustrated him. While he was sure of his feelings for you, he felt that while you seemed present in the relationship a majority of the time, there were times where it seemed like you two weren’t together, that you two were just friends. He felt like he was your fuck buddy.

You gave him an incredulous look and raised an eyebrow. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You understood Angel’s questions in some way. You could be hot and cold, which made you feel terrible, but it was hard not to be. Keeping a distance between you two was the safer option for now.

“I don’t know Y/N. At times, I feel like you’re just not in it. We literally eat together every day, so why ask me how I know it’s your lunchtime? You keep changing my name on your phone and girls usually find that shit cute. You know, I just don’t understand why you have this wall up between us. I’m committed to us, I’ve been committed.”

A frown appeared on your face, not liking how you made Angel feel. It wasn’t on purpose. You did this with almost every man you dated or boyfriend after Carmelo. If you didn’t get incredibly attached, you wouldn’t miss red flags like you did with Carmelo. Keeping yourself above the water, and alert, you wouldn’t have to worry about falling back into such blindness.

“It’s not on purpose. I told you, damaged goods remember?” You could feel his intense eyes trained on you, while your eyes remained on the nuggets on your lap. “Maybe this is too soon? Or I’m just not ready.”

“You fucking dated Adam.” Angel let out in frustration.

“Yes but Adam doesn’t have any added complications with him. I had fun and my only worry is basically just my job. There was no stress with him because,” you paused, trying to form the right words. “I didn’t love Adam, he was fun to have around and I never had to worry about losing myself with him. But with you, every time I’m around you, I find myself falling even greater. If we ever broke up, I would lose our friendship. If I lost myself in this relationship, I may not catch red flags like I did with Carmelo.” The seriousness of this conversation was weighing heavy on you. You didn’t want to have this conversation during a fucking lunch break. “Fuck, can we please talk about this later? This isn’t the right place for this.”

“Nope, you’re going to find some way to ghost me. You don’t think I’m afraid of that too? You’re not fucking damaged goods, stop saying that. What Carmelo did to you was despicable, but look where you are now. You’re an amazing woman. You are also a woman who wears her heart on her sleeves and gives her all.” Angel watched as you fidgeted with your fingers, moving your food every once in a while. “I understand why you’re hesitant mi cielo, but, I’m not Carmelo and I never will be Carmelo. I’m in this relationship for the long run, I have no thoughts about us breaking up or anything fucking ridiculous like that. Open your heart to me Y/N, I’ve never hurt you once.”

“You said thank you.” The night of prom was still so fresh in your mind. You knew then that you and Angel weren’t going to last much longer.

“What?”

“When I told you I love you, you said thank you.” You smiled sadly, closing your food and placing it on the bag. “I should go, my break is over.”

Angel watched as you exited the van.

“Fuck!” He yelled out.

He said thank you because he knew you two were going to separate. If he acknowledged his feelings for you, if he told you he loved you, he wouldn’t be able to let you go.

And now, of course it would bite him on the ass.

=================

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#angel reyes #angelreyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fic #mayans mc fic #mayans mc imagine #roommates

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catgrump · 3 years

Note

consider: 4 (when did u last eat?) with naegami? //byakuya voice: food is for the weak, coffee is superior*

I did consider and I decided on something else lol

It’s still Naegami tho don’t worry 🥰😌

And it’s Post-Canon! This is like pre-SDR2’s events so uh mild DR3 Anime spoilers and some SDR2 spoilers!

🌻🌻🌻

Makoto looked over his desk and felt absolutely overwhelmed.

The recovered Hope’s Peak Academy files were strewn about and the words were all melting together in his mind.

He went to school with these kids, and it frustrates and agonizes him that he can’t remember who they were.

He picked up the nearest sheet of paper and looked at the name and ID photo printed on it.

“Where are you?” He begged the parchment for answers, as if it could speak back to him.

He looked at the face of this guy. The printer ink distorted it a bit, but he looks like he would’ve been such a nice person.

“Why can’t I find you in particular? Are you hiding?” He whispered his questions even though the office was bare, “It must be the Luck.”

He stared into the eyes of the shoddily printed black and white photograph, somehow hoping the one thing that tied him and this other former Hope’s Peak student together would send him a sign.

And the longer he looked and stared, the more his peripheral vision caught up with the other black and white photos on his desk.

The former students’ faces all spun around in his head, laughing at him. Taunting him.

His head was heavy and light at the same time. The room felt like it was spinning. The ticking of the clock’s second hand grew louder and louder and louder and louder

“AAAAHHHHH GOD DAMMIT GOD DAMMIT—“ he shouted from deep within his gut, slamming his fists down on the wooden desk, but suddenly caught himself, holding his forehead to attempt to stabilize, “god... dammit...”

His eyes were fluttering shut. He barely comprehended the door in front of him opening.

He could barely make out Byakuya’s look of panic and fear as Makoto’s vision went black and his head slammed down onto the desk’s surface.

———

“Makoto?”

“... huh?” Sound barely escaped from Makoto’s mouth as he came to.

Makoto’s eyes drifted up and shifted into focus to see Byakuya sitting beside him.

He just connected that the warmth on his back was Byakuya’s hand.

“I didn’t know you were still here,” Makoto hoarsely told Byakuya’s worried eyes

“I was about to leave when I heard you scream,” Makoto trembled when he realized Byakuya’s fingers were softly brushing back and forth across the fabric of his blazer, “You passed out for a few moments; when did you last eat?”

“Hah,” Makoto weakly chuckled, “Even now you find a way to criticize me... that’s so like you...”

Makoto felt his head get heavy again but was snapped back when Byakuya’s other hand held on to his cheek and jaw, trying to balance between fight and flight

“I’m not criticizing you, Makoto, I’m asking about your physical health,” Even now, his words had their signature venom and his face, as perfect as it was, had its signature scowl, “I don’t think I ever saw you leave this office today.”

“I made so much progress, Byakuya,” Makoto deflected, trying not to exert anymore energy than was necessary, “I found three of them. They travel in a pack; if one is around, the other two aren’t far behind—“

“Makoto—“

“And I think one of them is the source for the weaponized Monokumas loose in the city—“

“Makoto—“

“He’s the Ultimate Mechanic, Byakuya; if we get him, we can at least stop any more machinated monstrosities—“

Byakuya’s hold on Makoto’s face strengthened and he tilted Makoto to be at his level, “Makoto. I admire all the work you’re doing, but I’m worried you’re killing yourself.”

Makoto didn’t want to admit it, but Byakuya was right. He can’t remember the last time he had water to drink. He’s been in this room since early this morning, piecing together tips and clues and trying to disguise it all as routine business just running on cups of coffee.

The fact that this plan is being kept so under wraps is driving him mad enough.

But when he looks at Byakuya— a man he never expected to be the comforting hand— he feels confident in what they’re doing.

And then he felt his face heat up. He couldn’t determine if that was from embarrassment or exhaustion or... attraction.

“Byakuya?”

“Yes?”

“You never call me that.”

“What; your name?”

“I can’t...” his words were fuzzy and went from his brain to his mouth in milliseconds, almost as if he weren’t processing them at all, “I can’t remember you ever calling me Makoto.”

His hands were still there.

“Ridiculous,” Byakuya scoffed, “I’m sure I’ve—“

“I can’t remember, that’s all,” Makoto’s eyes were being drawn shut like curtains and his head was jerking forward with Byakuya helping him resist, “Maybe you have. I just can’t remember.”

“Makoto, I’m taking you to your room. You need to rest.”

“H-hide the papers, please,” Makoto asked, giving in to Byakuya’s care as he felt his body giving in to shutting down

Through his exhaustion, Makoto guided Byakuya through securing the documents from any other Future Foundation members’ eyes.

Byakuya carefully took Makoto’s arms and helped him up, making sure to go slow to avoid any vertigo

They were close. Makoto felt his body pressed against Byakuya’s as Byakuya held him up, leading him out of the corporate sector of the HQ, toward their rooms.

As tired as Makoto was— as much as Makoto’s body was screaming for rest— his mind was occupied by ‘close’.

He’s close to bringing in the Remnants.

He’s close to pinning down the locations of three of them specifically.

He’s close to Byakuya.

Makoto hasn’t had too much time lately to worry about this attraction that’s been in the back of his mind for... he doesn’t even know how long it’s been.

But every time Byakuya surprises him somehow— tonight especially— it comes back.

I guess pining can’t be repressed, he thought.

Makoto fished his room key out of his pocket and Byakuya snatched it out of his hand, unlocking the room for him.

He continued to aide Makoto in settling back down, gently bringing him to sit at the edge of his bed.

“What do you have in here to eat?” Byakuya practically demanded, starting to sift through Makoto’s drawers

“Huh?”

“I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re okay,” he insisted, “You must have some sort of food in here.”

Makoto focused his eyes a bit and remembered, “there’s a sleeve of crackers in the nightstand.”

Byakuya aggressively opened the drawer and found them instantly, shoving them toward Makoto.

He also took note of the empty plastic water bottles littering the surface of said nightstand and grabbed one, crinkling the plastic in his fingers and storming into the bathroom

Makoto’s brain was suddenly processing.

Bed.

No, eat crackers.

Then bed.

He heard grumbling coming from his bathroom followed by a faucet turning on as he finally let his body eat.

As soon as he swallowed, the sleeve of crackers kind of just fell out of his hands as his body crawled into fetal position in bed, shoes still on.

He shut his eyes and wasn’t quite drifting off, but he didn’t have enough energy to turn around to face Byakuya as he came back from the bathroom.

“Drink some—“

Byakuya must’ve cut off his train of thought when he saw Makoto laying like that.

After a few moments, Makoto heard the water bottle’s base rest on the nightstand from whence it came.

Then, he felt the mattress sink a little further.

Then, he felt a hand hesitantly brush through his hair.

That was followed by a sigh.

“If you’re not going to take care of yourself,” Byakuya spoke softly as his fingers soothed Makoto to sleep, “I guess I’ll have to do that for you. I’m sorry I haven’t been keeping a better watch. I’ll do better from now on, darling.”

And in a daze, Makoto smiled, and prayed Byakuya would stay by his side.

If you enjoy my work, you can leave a tip in my tip jar! (Ko-Fi) 💛 Fics will always be free; this is just an additional way to support me

#danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa spoilers #danganronpa fanfic #danganronpa fic #naegami #makoto naegi #dr makoto #byakuya x makoto #makoto x byakuya #danganronpa makoto #byakuya togami #dr byakuya #danganronpa byakuya

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 12: Hesitation

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

This chapter is a little longer, but I couldn't find anything to cut out of it! So, enjoy! Things are starting to get kind of real with both dudes, lol. Thank you so much for reading, as always. Love and appreciate you guys. Going to try to update again tomorrow but if I can't find time then it will definitely be Tuesday. Had some unexpected hang ups this weekend. Don't worry- next chapter Liu is back! Also, who has seen Max Huang's Flawless Victory video?? Is it not just... unf??? (and as always, open to suggestions!)

Part 11 Part 13 Chapter Index

You followed Kung Lao to the fight pit and by the time that you got there you’d managed to shake any remaining embarrassment. Your nerves about your arcana had long since taken over. Why were you nervous? The fight the other day had gone exceptionally well except for the whole thing with Kung Lao’s hat. You couldn’t get the idea out of your head that you’d hurt Liu Kang without realizing.

You knew Kung Lao was right. The more control that you had over your arcana the better. Besides that, he promised to take it easy on you. Right? He’d promised something but he’d been so close to you that when you tried to recall his exact words, you mostly just recalled his lips forming around the word ‘promise’. Stupid Chen. Teasing you. Stupid Kung Lao. Finding you right after you’d been teased. You couldn’t be blamed for struggling to focus.

Kung Lao didn’t have you meditate the way that Liu would have. Meditation would have helped you so much right now. Your thoughts were jumbled up in a confused pile. You weren’t even dressed properly for a fight, you realized, so you walked back to the edge of the fight pit.

“We haven’t even warmed up, Y/N. Where are you going?” Kung Lao laughed, setting his hat on the steps and out of the way.

“Oh, I just realized I’m not in my gi.” You tugged on the tank top.

“You half are.” He pointed to your pants. “You should be fine. This looks more like you anyway. Not that I’m arguing. You can wear whatever you want but this is much more like you.”

“I didn’t realize you had an opinion about it.” You rolled your eyes but walked back into the fight pit. He was right. You were fine in what you had on. It was your brain that wasn’t cooperating. It was sabotaging you- full of racing, hectic thoughts. Then Kung Lao was next to you, staring down at you with both concern and amusement behind his eyes. How long had you been standing there lost in the spaghetti of your thoughts?

“What’s going on with you today? I thought you were getting past the blood loss thing.”

“Weren’t you the one who said it would take time to recover from that?”

“I did. Still. Focus. Let’s practice channeling that renegade energy of yours.” Kung Lao clasped your forearm encouragingly and then walked back into the fight pit. You joined him, standing next to him. “Follow me. We’ll start with some tai chi since you seem to be all over the place.”

“Kind of like meditating, right? Gets you in touch with your energy.”

“Yeah, but I like this better. Plus, your head is somewhere else so I thought it might help you focus. Be present, Y/N.” He teased.

“I’m present, Kung Lao. Jeez.” You shook out your hands and feet and then took your position next to him. He led you through breathing exercises in various calming poses. He stopped several times to show you how he channeled the energy of not only his arcana, but that ran through him. He urged you to do the same, every so often, adjusting the position of your hands. You had never been good at tai chi. Meditation was much easier for you. Yet, you struggled more than you normally would have. Even the day before, you likely could have managed just fine.

Kung Lao walked behind you as you wobbled in position and he carefully took your hand in his, fingers, brushing down your arm to your elbow and adjusting your positioning. You turned to catch sight of him, but he was very much focused on his task. When he caught your gaze, he let go of your arm and stepped back but averted his eyes with a smile, subtle on his lips.

You exhaled deeply and focused on your energy, trying to will your arcana forth and ignore the lingering touch that Kung Lao had left behind. He was talking, coaching you on how to channel your energy but you’d tuned out the words and instead focused on the comfort of his voice. It was frustrating. The ink had come to you in rivers before and even when you were unconscious, it had come freely. Now you could barely get it to bubble above your fingers. Your fingertips turned black, but it took so much energy, you stumbled forward.

Kung Lao carefully helped you stand back upright and as he made to speak, you stepped away from him and walked until you could see over the edge of the arena. You had to breathe. The air was stifling. Folding your arms over your chest you stared into the ravine.

Kung Lao stood next to you, admiring the temple carved into the side of the mountains. Then he turned away from you and walked back into the pit. “Don’t do that, Y/N.” You turned to face him, and he went back to his tai chi. You admired his control and his knowledge.

“Do what?”

“Worry that you can’t do this.”

“I’m not. I’m nervous, is all.”

“Well, get over it.” He stopped, bowed, and then walked back to join you, standing below you in the sand.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re strong, Y/N. You’re capable. I told you. I’m not going to watch you give up just because you’re scared of what comes next. Now, come down here and practice with me.” He offered you his hand and you stared at it. Sometimes he was completely foreign from the boy you’d known so long ago and sometimes he was right there, like you’d never lost him. You took his hand and stepped back into the pit. “I don’t think we should try sparring until we can get you out of this headspace.”

You didn’t know what to say. He was right. It was sweet that he believed in you so passionately, but it didn’t erase your nerves. You didn’t know each other very well but there was still this old, nostalgic connection you couldn’t shake. You trusted him without understanding why you did. If he believed in you then you could do it. Yet, when you closed your eyes, you heard Liu Kang telling Raiden that you’d attacked him. You hadn’t gotten to ask him what happened and if he was okay. He was probably fine. You couldn’t stop fixating on it.

Kung Lao was right. You had to let it go and focus. You followed his lead again. In comparison to the last time you’d fought, you were barely able to keep your balance, nonetheless focus on your energy and control it.

“Now, take that energy and manifest your arcana.” Kung Lao urged, walking around you to make sure that your posture was still correct. Then he took up the same stance next to you, legs spread wide, arm extended before you, the other curled inward. You closed your eyes and breathed into the stance, trying to take that energy you felt swirling all around you and will it into your arcana. No matter how you tried, it wouldn’t come. The willingness was replaced with nagging doubt. What if you couldn’t control it? What if you summoned it and lost control? “Nothing?” Kung Lao stood before you when you opened your eyes, watching you curiously. Your fingers were throbbing, and you broke the stance briefly before getting back into it.

“Can’t seem to figure it out.”

“Your posture is dreadful. You were so graceful the other day.”

“It’s almost like I went through something traumatic last night.” You broke your stance and were surprised that he laughed under his breath. “That’s not funny, Kung Lao.”

“I know it isn’t. It’s an excuse.” He shrugged, then took a step closer. You stepped back. “You can do this. I’m pushing you because I know that you can. This isn’t working so why don’t we try something else?” He walked across the pit and gestured to a stack of weights. “What’s holding you back?” You joined him and frowned at the weights. You were strong but your body was so sore that the idea of lifting them made you sad.

“I don’t know. I’m exhausted.”

“You were exhausted after we uncovered your arcana and still managed.”

“I did.” You wondered about that too. Ever since you’d had that vision, something had changed, something you couldn’t put your finger on and certainly that you couldn’t explain.

“When Liu first found his arcana, he struggled with keeping control of it.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It’s more similar to yours than mine is. Mine is a different kind of control.”

“And did you struggle with that?”

“Well, losing control of mine was a different animal.” He ran his fingers through his messy hair.

“That wasn’t an answer. Now who’s being evasive?” You teased him and he laughed.

“Take the ten pounder, will you?” He grabbed the weight and handed it to you and then took the other one himself. “Liu had to focus on control to tame his arcana. I figure that something similar might help you.” He tossed the weight from hand to hand. It was easy to forget how strong he was when you were mostly teasing each other back and forth. It was impressive. You followed him and watched as he sat in the sand and then laid back. “The weight represents your arcana. It’s important to remember that you’re in control. It is an extension of you.”

You sat and watched him as he held the weight over his head and then slowly, one step at a time, he sat up and stood, the weight still above his head, arms strong and steady. “You control the weight. It’s harder than it looks.” He stood back up and watched as he walked a bit closer to you. “Your turn. Come on.”

You didn’t have much confidence that you would be able to do it as gracefully as he had but you would try. Kung Lao set his weight to the side and then knelt next to where you laid. You held the weight above your head and closed your eyes. It was an extension of you but as you made to sit up, you didn’t go anywhere. Instead, you laughed and opened your eyes. “Yeah, that is definitely not happening.” Your arms were resisting, and your side was too sore to rely on your core.

“Too sore?”

“Yeah.” Despite your objection and proclamation, you focused on the weight and though you were shaking and your body ached, you managed to sit up, still holding the weight above your head. Strength training wasn’t really your forte. What you were skilled in was more about maneuverability and balance. Even that didn’t seem to be cooperating with you today. You were grateful that while Kung Lao had initially come off abrasive and pushy, he was being understanding and patient with you.

“Good. Breathe. Take time to regain your control. It’s all about control.”

“Liu did this kind of thing?”

“The masters did it with him. I remember watching. He can do this in seconds with the bigger weights now.” Kung Lao smiled. “If he can do it then so can you. Ready to stand up?”

“I don’t know if I can do it. I’m going to try but…” You struggled to find a way to get to your feet without letting go of the weight. Much to your surprise, Kung Lao scooted in the sand so he was behind you on one knee and slipped his arm around your middle, careful of how he held you. Then he urged you to lean back against his chest.

“Use me for balance. I won’t push you or help you, but you can lean back against me.” He whispered in your ear, face close to the crook of your neck but careful not to touch. Still, his energy was like lightning mingled with yours. “Relax. It’s about control.”

Easy for him to say. This was seven different kinds of torture. His arm around you, his breath on your neck, the weight held over your head making your arms tremble, your side stretching painfully. You were sure he wasn’t trying to torture you but boy, he was. You had to focus on the task. Carefully, placing your body weight back against Kung Lao who did exactly as he promised, you managed to push onto your knees, one at a time and then onto your feet. He moved with you and he urged his hands up to take the weight. Then he whispered in your ear and you could feel the smile on his lips. “Good.” His lips barely brushed against your ear and you shivered.

You had to stop overthinking. He was just helping you train. That was it. Your heart had to calm down. The tension with him was so different than it was with Liu Kang and even so, you felt guilty that it existed at all. Why? Fuck if you knew. Your brain was exhausted by it.

You practiced that a few more times until you could manage to get up on your own without Kung Lao’s arms wrapped around you. You worked extra hard to make it happen because the longer he had his arms wrapped around you, the less you had been able to focus on what you were actually trying to accomplish.

This was going to be the death of you.

If this was how you had to train? In close quarters with either Kung Lao or Liu Kang, then you stood no chance. Death by tension.

Or sensory overload.

Or embarrassment and guilt.

“How are your arms?”

“Sore.” You would keep trying but the afternoon was fading into evening and your energy was fading with it.

“Let’s see if we can get you to summon your arcana again.” Kung Lao folded his arms over his chest as he walked around you. “Stand up like we’re fighting.” He tapped your shoulder and then imitated one of the stances you’d used the day before. With a laugh, you shoved him, and he lost his balance and then caught himself and pretended to be wounded. “Don’t like being told what to do, do you?”

“I’m used to being the teacher. And I’m exhausted. I’m burnt out.”

“Well, let’s try this and then we can call it an evening.” He assured you and then stood in front of you. “Now, come on.” He gestured with his index finger and you laughed.

“You would be a terrible teacher.”

“Well, I was going to give you a sticker on your report card but now it’s going to be a frown face.”

“You’re not really instructing me and not listening and making bad jokes…”

“But I’m good at what I do, Y/N. You’re stalling.”

“…what if I can’t, Kung Lao?” You avoided his eyes and stepped back into your stance as he had asked you to do.

“You can.” Kung Lao was offering you confidence when you had lost yours. He was still that kid, deep down. The one who had always believed in you. Seeing that gave you a little bit of that confidence too. He was pushing you, but not in a way that you felt small or incapable. Quite the opposite. You’d expected practice with him to be abrasive and exhausting, but instead he had been confident and understanding. You closed your eyes and pictured the ink from the day before. You reached for the energy, but it seemed just out of reach. When you got close, it flitted just out of reach.

Your posture slipped as you focused and you yelped, losing your balance, nearly falling over. Kung Lao helped you upright, hand on your arm cautiously. Then he slipped behind you and rested his hand on your hip and helped you find your balance. You looked at him over your shoulder again and he offered you a confident nod. He then stepped back and copied your stance. “Don’t give up.”

You took comfort knowing that Kung Lao would catch you if you fell so you switched focus. Your fingertips burned and shook, and you watched as they turned black. Kung Lao’s eyes were on you and you suddenly lost focus and shook out of your stance. You bounced on your heels and started again, back in your stance. Kung Lao did the same, close enough that if you stepped wrong then you’d brush against him, but other than that he was careful not to touch you. Even so, the closeness was killing you. His presence radiated behind you, the strength of his form in comparison to yours was impeccable. You were faltering. Things that you’d been confident in were slipping from your grasp.

You were frustrated in a thousand different ways. Kung Lao, try as he might, was not helping the way he thought he was. Somehow this was still all Chen’s fault. You were trying very much not to let it get to you, but it seemed impossible.

“Come on, Y/N.” Kung Lao’s whisper was soft but husky behind you and you fought the chills again. “You’re sloppy.” His hand brushed around your shoulder to show where you were faltering. He then urged your arm back a bit, gently touching your elbow to do so. “Shoulders away from your ears. Come on.” You did as he instructed, and he leaned close to whisper in your ear. “…how does that feel?”

“Uh…” Your words were lost in a haze of confusion. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be doing now. Was it your arcana? You couldn’t remember.

“…is it?”

Focus. You exhaled and shifted, but each movement put you in danger of brushing against him. While your bodies didn’t touch, you caught the occasional phantom touch of his clothing, of his hands. “Like this.” You couldn’t focus, but you were good at what you did. You could do this. Those moments were a haze of desperation and confusion. You wanted to summon your arcana again, but you also wanted to do something to cut this tension but everything your mind came up with was incredibly inappropriate and followed by guilt.

“Y/N, I thought you were better at this.”

That had helped. It had been said in jest, but it had made you want to smack him rather than kiss him. Though, both seemed still like viable options. Kung Lao tried to help you adjust your stance, but you smacked his hand away and did it yourself. When you struggled, he grasped your wrist and tried to help you once more. Darkness surrounded your fingertips and you turned to face him, but it faded as quickly as it came. He didn’t step back, and you were so close to him that you had to crane your neck to look up at him. He dwarfed you then, his hair hanging in front of his face as he looked down at you.

“I know what I’m doing.” You scolded. He smiled down at your, stepping just so that the tip of his shoe touched against yours. He tilted closer to you and you held your breath. He was so close to you but not touching you at all. It was killing you. He was doing it on purpose. You could see the smirk now, the delight behind his dark eyes. He knew exactly what he brought to the table, apparently.

“Then act like it.” He dared you. You thought about proving it to him, but your head was spinning with the intoxicating air surrounding you. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to be doing anymore.

“Then give me a chance to.”

He stepped away from you and you felt as though you could breathe for the first time in ages. You tied your hair back carefully and adjusted your stance.

“That’s much better.” He walked around you, observing your stance. “Now try your arcana. Maybe that’s too vague. Try to manifest something you’re familiar with. Something that you would use when practicing in the dojo.”

“I’m trying, Kung Lao.” You breathed a frustrated sigh. It was at least easier without him practically on top of you. Your fingers tingled and your arms arched with soreness, body exhausted. Still, grasping the air, you managed to summon something familiar in your palms. The hilt of mid-sized jian, double-edged thin blades! You’d practiced with them for years. There was no weight to the versions you’d created with ink but the familiar grip of them was comforting.

“Good!” You could feel the smile in his voice. He had his arms folded over his chest, a satisfied look on his face. You switched stances and twisted the swords in your grip but as you did, the ink dripped and lost its form. You focused on their form again and less on your posture. You had done these moves a thousand times to teach others. There was no reason you couldn’t do this. At least you felt more confident in yourself.

“Now, block me.” Kung Lao lowered his stance and as you switched your focus from the ink to him, you lost your grip on the swords and it faded. You cursed under your breath and Kung Lao laughed in surprise. Walking away from him, you pushed your hair that had come free back, held it there in frustration, and coughed. You were out of breath and exhausted. You needed rest. Your body was giving you all the signs to stop. It had been foolish to push this hard.

Much to your surprise, Kung Lao grasped your arm and whipped you around to face him. You lost your balance and grasped at his shirt to catch yourself.

“This isn’t a game, Y/N.”

“I know that, Kung Lao. I’m exhausted. You’re pushing me too hard.”

“I won’t let you give up.”

“I’m no giving up. I’m just exhausted! After the past few days, I’m burnt out, that’s all. I’m trying my best, but I need rest.”

“It’s not enough.” Kung Lao’s grip on your arm tightened and you tried to twist it free. “Fight the pain. Fight the exhaustion. When you think you’ve hit your bottom, pick yourself back up and fight.”

“I am! I’m doing my best, but I can’t focus.”

Kung Lao released you and you pulled your arm back with a snap as if to prove a point. He stepped back and you were surprised as he slipped into the familiar Wing Chun stance that you’d seen the day before. He knew you weren’t up for it and yet there he was. “I promised that I’d push you.”

“I can’t, Kung Lao.”

“Summon your arcana and fight me.”

You muttered more curse words beneath your breath and stepped back into your stance. Much easier than earlier, you managed to summon the swords you’d barely mustered earlier. They were still dripping and weak and your body was sore in ways that you hadn’t dreamt possible, but you’d done it. It was the best you’d done that day. The familiar form of the jian had really helped and while you were still exhausted, you were grateful that he had pushed you.

Kung Lao waited until he was sure you were ready, then flipped gracefully toward you. You backed away carefully, watching his movements. You ducked and slashed but Kung Lao dodged to the side and with a high kick, knocked the sword right out of your hand. It splattered on the sand in a spray of ink. You cursed and shook out your hand. It felt as though something had been ripped from the flesh of your hand rather than out of it. It was the strain and exhaustion, you were sure.

“Keep going, Y/N.”

“I’m trying,” you hissed under your breath, sweat dripping down your brow. You focused but the sword wouldn’t come back. Yelling in frustration, you struggled to summon the ink again but nothing came of it. As you slumped forward, out of breath, you were surprised to be grabbed roughly by your shoulder and shoved into the wall behind you. Eyes wide, you stared up at Kung Lao, only inches from you.

“What’s stopping you?”

You froze but no words came to you.

“What is stopping you? He repeated, hand relaxing on your shoulder. His eyes were daring you to fight him, to shove him, to summon your arcana and keep him from twisting you around so easily. You tried to summon it, tried to be as skilled and deft as you had been the other day but you didn’t have the strength. You really did need rest. His gaze softened and his eyes searched you and then returned to your eyes. “Y/N, you have to fight.”

Just because you couldn’t summon your arcana it didn’t mean that you were helpless. You’d fought him and Liu Kang fine before you’d managed it. You could do that now too. He was right. You were getting in your own way. This was Kung Lao, a boy you’d wrestled around with as kids. You could do this. You were good at what you did and so far, that day, you’d felt terrible at it.

Kung Lao was still close and breathing awfully heavily for a man who had extraordinarily little challenge that day. You grabbed his wrist, twisted his grip from your shoulder, ducked under his arm and elbowed him in the chest. Then you stepped further into his space and flipped him around and over your shoulder, ducking low and then stepping back. He twisted out of your grasp as you flipped him over and caught himself then gestured toward you with a proud smile.

“There you are.”

“Yeah.” You walked past him out of breath. That was it for you. You were done. You couldn’t do it anymore. Kung Lao grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him. You whined in exhaustion.

“Good job.”

You shoved his hand off of you and he grabbed your wrist again as if to test you. “Kung Lao, it’s time to listen to me. I’m exhausted. You keep pushing and pushing. I’m not myself today. You recognize that.”

“It worked though, didn’t it? Being what you are now? Being here? Having that mark on your back? You have to always be ready. You’re safe here with me but eventually we won’t be safe anymore. If you have an off day? You’re dead. I’m not going to let that happen. I have to push you.” He looked to you seriously and relaxed his grip on you but didn’t let go. “So, loosen up. And be ready for anything.”

“I must be having a stroke. You just told me to prepare for death and also to loosen up in the same breath.”

He laughed.

“Yeah, it’s going to be dangerous but all the more reason to have fun. Our lives have the potential to be short. Learn to have some fun, Y/N.” He let go of your wrist but as he did, he still towered over you. You didn’t back away, wanting to challenge his position of power over you. He had a way with doing that, with making you feel submissive but in the same breath you wanted to give him a run for his money and push your boundaries. “I never expected you to be so tightly wound.”

“You pushed me too hard.”

“I promised to push you!” He laughed as if this were obvious and leaned closer to your height. You didn’t back down in spite of the sudden closeness. You shoved at his shoulder and laughed. He was ridiculous. “There you go. That’s better.”

“You’re a pain in my side, Lao. Literally.” You smiled even so.

“You trained, Y/N, so come have some fun with me.” He tapped his chest and you watched his hand. He had to stop saying things like that. Almost everything he said was a double entendre and he knew exactly what he was doing. You could tell by that familiar smirk. He wore his confidence on his sleeve. Even when he’d stopped teasing and gotten serious on you, which was something he had a tendence to do you noticed. He would create this intense tension between you and then he’d worsen it by lowering his voice and speaking sincerely and seriously. It was emotionally exhausted but also addictive and sexy.

“Fine, Kung Lao. Let’s have some fun.” You leaned a little closer to him. You couldn’t help but tease him back every so often. He was right. It was fun. And right now, it distracted you from the exhaustion. With a flick of your wrist, you managed to summon your ink sword. Not focusing on it had made it much easier. You kicked him back and away from you and twisted the blade in your grip. Even as you held onto your arcana, it felt different than when you’d first used it. It was as though you’d lost control over it.

It could have been the exhaustion. Your grip shook on the blade but you focused instead on your form and rushed toward him and lunged forward. Kung Lao ducked around the blade and you slashed, and he rolled out of the way. He knocked the sword up and you flipped back with it, faltered on your landing stance but then jabbed toward him again and again. He flipped backwards to avoid your attacks until you had him cornered. Then he kicked the blade and while it splashed ink, it didn’t fall. You followed the momentum of his kick and he ducked behind you. As you made to slash, he stepped around it and grasped the end of the blade. You hesitated for fear of cutting him and he tore it from your grasp. It splattered on the ground.

You stumbled and held your wrist in pain. It was as if you’d lost an extension of yourself. Kung Lao knocked you back and you stumbled into the wall. He pinned your shoulder against the wall but you grasped his arm to try and force him to stay further away from you, to give your room to escape. You struggled to push him back and he held you fast. At least he’d had to try a little harder that time.

You stopped but didn’t let go of his forearm. Then you caught your breath, not having realized how hard you’d been breathing throughout. Kung Lao did the same, though why the hell he was struggling to breathe you could only guess. When you’d last fought, he had barely broken a sweat and that had been a much more intense battle. Right now, you were sloppy and exhausted. Your ears were ringing as he searched your eyes. Then he stepped away from you and with a flick of his wrist the hat that he’d rested aside returned to his hand.

“Good. That’s all for today.”

“Oh, thank god.” You hunched over, resting your hands on your knees.

“Let’s grab a drink.”

“What?” You looked up at him in surprise.

“A drink. Let’s get one. I’ve got some wine stored away for a special occasion.”

“Wine?”

“You know, wine, spirits, liquor. Drinking. Having a little fun? Loosening up? That thing you need to do.”

“That’s a bad idea.”

“Y/N, come on.”

“No, I actually have a reason.” You laughed but you were a little defensive. Drinking with Kung Lao or Liu Kang was one thousand percent off the table. That was a bad, bad idea. A mistake waiting to happen. Any chance of lowering your inhibitions was one you couldn’t take. “The blood loss thing and it being thin. Liquor is a stupid idea.”

“Well, I can’t fight with that.”

“What’s going on with you, Kung Lao?”

“What do you mean?”

You gestured to yourself, exhausted as you were and then gestured to him. He was weird today and you weren’t sure why. There had been several moments where you’d almost stopped to ask him what was going on in his head.

“Did you not have fun? I had fun. Especially those last few rounds there. Could get used to that.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes but laughed a little anyway.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t fun.”

He stepped closer to you again and you were instantly defensive, hands on your hips.

“Admit it, Y/N. I know you like to disagree with me for whatever reason, but you had fun. You have a good time when I’m around.”

“You’re just… being so…”

“Being what, Y/N? I’m being honest.” His tone shifted. There it was. Teasing you mercilessly so that your guard was way up and then knocking it down with sincerity. “You’ve gotten into your head, in your own way. I need you to tell yourself that this isn’t like when we were kids.” You didn’t know what to say. He took you off guard. As much as you expected these serious moments, they were still always enough to make you freeze. He was surprisingly insightful for all the joking that he did. “I had to push you. I’m sorry if it was too much. We’re learning our limits. Besides, it worked. You could barely function when we started. By the end you were fighting me back.”

Your hands were shaking, and you clenched them tightly to stop them. Was it exhaustion or Kung Lao? That was a fun new game you’d come up with in the last few hours. He took your hand, pressing his thumb to your palm to stop your trembling.

“We’re going to get it under control. It’ll be hard. It’ll be exhausting. But we’re going to do it. Together.”

“Together.” He had a way of making you defensive but in that moment, your defenses were down. It felt like, for the first time since he’d come back, that he was being truly sincere. He let go of your and then nodded behind him.

“I’m going to grab a drink. You should rest but… also think about what I said. And if you change your mind about a drink? Come find me.”

He left you alone in the fight pit. You leaned against the wall and let your head hang back, catching your breath. He’d left you with more to think about than he’d likely realized even if he had known exactly what he was doing.

#kung lao #kung lao x reader #mortal kombat movie #mortal kombat 2021 #mk kung lao #liu kang x reader #love triangle #romance #angst #action #fanfic #fanfiction #kung lao/reader #kung lao x you #liu kang/reader #liu kang x you #ludi lin #max huang

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astridncs · 3 years

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Never Let You Go

What happens if Mulder arrived on time before Scully was abducted? -- a take on what could've been in S1E6: Ascension

NOTE: Hi! I've been on my TXF rewatch and although this type of fic has been written a lot of times, I wanted to give it a try. This is probably my first attempt at writing an angsty fic lol and this is a product of my brain being in a weird state. p.s. this MIGHT have a second chapter, but we’ll see. xx

Also on ao3. Tagging @today-in-fic

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There was the light – bright and painful; and a figure up in the sky that began to hover. His heart began to pound when he saw it and he knew he had to run.

He can hear Duane Barry’s maniacal laugh from afar and it sent a chill down his spine. He was clutching Scully’s necklace in his hand so hard he can feel the cross dig into his palm. His heart continued to pound as he ran and while adrenaline rushed through his veins, it was fear that made him move fast – fear that Scully might have already been taken and he was too late.

He reached to where Duane was standing, and he could see Scully’s body on the ground. The light was still there as the ship hovered above and the next thing Mulder knew, he was running towards Scully. He can see the relief in her eyes – the tears flowed freely down her cheeks when she saw him. He was not too late. He wasn’t.

But he did not see Duane move. He didn’t see the other man walk towards him and push him off of Scully, sending him tumbling to the ground.

“No! It has to be her!” Duane screamed. “No one’s taking Duane Barry this time.”

Mulder scrambled to his feet trying to reach Scully against the wind and Duane who was pushing him away.

Anger bubbled inside Mulder, and it took him a second to ground himself and grab Duane’s shoulders.

“No, Duane. I’m sorry but they’re not getting her. Not ever.” He said and shoved the man to the ground. He was too angry and too afraid to feel mercy because if something happened to Scully, he’ll never be able to forgive himself.

Scully screamed Mulder’s name. She was being lifted off the ground and it took all of Mulder’s might pulling her down and eventually covering her with his body.

She immediately buried her face into his neck; her eyes closed, and she was whimpering beneath him. She wrapped her arms around his neck so tight as if trying to keep him there in case they would take him. It felt like an eternity for them staying in that position, but then the light was gone, the wind was calm, and it was silent – dead silent.

“Mulder,” Scully whispered, her voice shaky and scratchy. “Mulder is it- is it over?” she asked.

Mulder turned his head to see her face. Her eyes were still shut tight, but he can see tear tracks and her lips slightly wobbling as she spoke. His heart broke, but he knew he needed to stay strong for her, for both of them.

“Yes,” he says. “It’s over, Scully. It’s over.” He tells her as he slowly peeled himself off of her body.

He helped her to her feet and held her close against him. They looked around for Duane Barry, but he wasn’t there. He was nowhere to be found in the area. They looked at each other and in silence, they knew what had happened to the other man.

Sirens were heard from the distance, and they slowly trekked to the main road. Scully’s body was aching, and they had to stop a couple of times. Mulder offered to carry her, but she declined. Instead, she let him wrap an arm around her waist to steady her as they walked.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears and her heart felt like it would burst at any minute. She cannot fathom what had happened. She was in shock.

As they walked, she stole glances at Mulder and she could see the pain etched on his face, without a word, she pressed her body closer to his and he looked down at her and she felt him tighten his grip on her waist.

They were met by Skinner and although Mulder was still mad at him, he still thanked him for rescuing them. The anger was still there, but Mulder decided to focus more of his energy on Scully while the rest could wait.

Scully was brought to the hospital and while her mom was on her way, Mulder never left her side. The thought of leaving her even just for a second scared him to the bones. And Scully would not let him go either – her hand clutched his tightly during examinations and all throughout the interrogations. They weren’t going to let go of each other soon.

When Maggie arrived, Mulder was reluctant to leave Scully’s side, but he knew that mother and daughter needed some time alone, so he went and left. He wandered to the gift shop and bought items he thought would make Scully happy.

When he got back, Scully was resting, and Maggie was stroking her daughter’s hair. She looked up when he entered the room. She smiled and stood up and pulled him into a hug. Mulder’s heart constricted with the sudden comfort he felt.

“Thank you, Fox,” Maggie said. “Thank you for bringing my baby girl back.”

“I’d do anything for her, Mrs. Scully.” He responded. His eyes on Scully’s resting form and to what felt like ages, a huge weight was lifted off of his shoulders seeing Scully alive and safe.

He would do anything for her, even if it meant putting himself in danger.

#TXF #MSR #Angst #this might have a second chapter #fanfic #Hurt #Comfort #S1E6 #Ascension #astridncs #Never Let You Go

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gorochanfanclub · 3 years

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Sentiment

Majima x Unnamed Female Character

Summary: Majima and his girlfriend are watching a movie on the floor in their living room. When he reaches out to hold her, she is overcome with a feeling she can’t name.

Contains: fluff, a bit of angst (maybe), hinted depression, Majima being the secret softie he is

A/N: My first time writing a fic for Majima. Hope you guys like it! Wrote this with a specific person in mind (one of my OCs lmao) but left it purposefully extremely vague who the woman was so anyone reading this can imagine whatever they want. Comment below if you figure out what movie they’re watching!! It is indeed a real movie and I made sure to hint at it pretty hard lol, it’s one of my own personal favorites I think Majima actually would like. Also think it’s worth noting I wrote this entire thing while listening to 1984 by Junko Yagami on loop lmao. Was inspired by an edit on Instagram using this song. (edit was by eyeglassez on there)

She nearly had drifted off to sleep when it happened. The comfortable weight of him on top of her, his heat warming her, the feeling of his hannya patterned ink under her sleep heavy hand, even the low, humming voices on the TV illuminating the dark room, all threatened to carry her away to a land of peaceful dreams.

As she lay on the bedroll in the living room, the soft cotton sheets cradling her like an infant, her left hand rest on Majima’s shoulder blade, the other next to her face. His right hand rest under her head, beneath the plush pillow she placed it on. His other rest dangerously close to her right, fingers mere millimeters apart.

This wasn’t an uncommon position for the two to be in. She enjoyed his warmth, the cold of this world being soothed by his soft body heat. He reveled in the feeling of a body pressed to his, often coming up with the excuse, ‘fat tits like yers are better ‘n any pillow out there.’

She couldn’t even remember what was happening in the film Majima had insisted they watch together. It was a Hong Kong made film, one of those kung fu type movies Majima couldn’t seem to get enough of. Her eyelids get heavy as she tries to stay lucid enough to listen, knowing Majima would want to talk about it later, probably referencing lines from the movie for weeks to come.

Straining them open, she sees a little girl on the screen, getting harassed by a group of boys just a few years older than her. They tug at the rainbow lollipop in her hand, attempting to rip it from her small hands. Suddenly, another boy, much too small to fight even one of the bullies, comes running in her defense, leaving the group to abandon the girl and fight the young hero instead.

The screen then flashes to the same couple, grown adults now, yet the same hero and the same girl who never go to thank her savior. From a small box, the girl produces the swirly confectionary, handing it to the now adult man who had rescued her all those years ago.

She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next after that. Her drowsiness clouded her mind too much to even think about the intimacy of such a scene on the television.

Perhaps Majima had felt touched by the story that unfolded before him, or perhaps he just wanted more to feel. Gently, his fingers stretch to hers, lacing their hands together next to her head. His usually gloved thumb, now lying naked in an embrace with another hand, gracefully rubbed the back of her palm.

It was so soft, so feather light, she might not have noticed it had she been anyone else. Yet, she was her, and in an instant, all sleep that threatened to take her over was gone, full lucidity coming back to her as she nearly gasped.

She stayed as still as a statue, hoping Majima wouldn’t notice the change in her breathing. Luckily he didn’t, his eye stayed glued to the screen, mindlessly holding onto her as he continued his action.

Heart beating in her chest, she didn’t know how to react. He was being so�� gentle. What did she do to be deserving of any of this kindness?

Her eyes dilate, losing focus of the television and staring at nothing in particular. She feels her mind wander, the feeling of his warm skin on hers flooding her thoughts, the voices on the screen just in front of her being replaced with his.

***

The night air breezed past them as they walked. It whipped through his bowl cut, blowing delicate strands into his one good eye, shielding it from her view.

She could watch him forever. He was like a piece of fine art to her; all rigid and strong with the softest curves on his face. The neon lights seemed to illuminate his skin, making it shine with a heavenly glow from within. The snakeskin leather on his shoulder glittered in the night, each scale gleaming in turn.

When he noticed her eyes boring holes into him, he turned his head with a smirk, “Ya keep staring like that, I got somethin’ on my face?”

His eye twinkled as he joked, the brown of it turning to blue, then green, then purple as the street passed him by, its light forming a colorful kaleidoscope on his features.

She was completely starstruck, the ability to form words long gone from her, her entire brain focused on taking him in. Her lips parted, trying to muster a response to his question, only awed breaths falling from them.

As he smiled back, chuckling at her silence, she felt the heat rise to her cheeks, warming her face in the cold. The blush on her skin made his heart swell, though she would never know that. His smile falls for a second, his typically harsh features softening as they walk side by side, eyes never leaving one another.

Not looking where she was going, her foot catches on something sticking up from the ground. She wasn’t sure what it could have been; perhaps it was an uneven paving stone, a discarded paper coffee cup, or even just her own clumsiness. Though, whatever it was, it had her falling to the ground fast.

Long before she could recognize what was happening to her, a warm, leather gloved hand was gripping her forearm, halting her descent to the concrete beneath her feet.

If she had been starstruck before, her head was spinning now, every nerve in her body feeling fuzzy in the proximity of the man looking down at her. At this angle, he looked ethereal, the moon above glowing on the back of his head like a halo. For just a moment, she felt he might sprout wings and fly her up to heaven.

Swallowing, she feels him pull her up, standing her flush against him. The open hem of her jacket tickled his chest, sending a fluttering inside him. They were so close, almost close enough to feel his heart beat against hers.

He scoffed cockily, his breath creating a misty cloud around him. When the fog cleared, he spoke, “Better watch where yer goin’, missy. Can’t have ya getting hurt on me, now can I?”

The tenderness in his tone said more than his words had. What he meant to say was, ‘Please be careful, I want you safe,’ but the meaning got lost in translation from heartbeat to Japanese.

Yet, she felt herself nodding, understanding perfectly what his original intention had been.

***

His stirring on her chest brought her to the present. Hopefully he wasn’t getting up, she needed him there, weighing her down, keeping her grounded while her thoughts were anywhere but this Earth.

Fortunately, Majima only sighs, his torso rising then falling under her still hand. He shifts slightly, his long legs moving against hers as he finds a new position atop her to lay. His head even shifts, hair rubbing against her chest, and nose gracing her night shirt.

Staying still became harder and harder the more Majima moved. Every muscle in her body wanted to both tense and melt at the same time. Her heart beat so loudly against her chest, she could hear it in her ears.

Looking down to the hand inside his, she bites her lip, trying to keep the quivering of it to a minimum. His grip on it tightens ever so slightly, and she is sure he knows she was staring at him. However, when she looks back to the screen, she sees fists flying and tensions rising, a sign that his grasp was only due to the suspense on screen.

At this she relaxes, feeling safe from his teasing for even just a moment. The last thing she wanted was for him to notice her nerves and have this moment end.

Rotating her head gently, she looks up. The darkness of the ceiling seemed to reflect on her, reminding her that that was life before Majima; dark, bleak, flat, and devoid of all color and warmth.

***

On days like these, she wanted nothing more than to just crawl up into a ball and fade away, her own existence crushing her like the heaviest burden there could be. It felt even hard to breathe, her lungs squeezing with sorrow.

Yet, she trugged the streets, walking to the place she had promised to meet him. He wasn’t one for planning things but today was an exception he had said. Nishida told her he was feeling ‘uncharacteristically structured.’ So despite her aching being, she marched to meet him.

He sat in the cafe, idly scrolling through his phone when she arrived. Meekly, she walked up to his table, feeling like being around him might be enough to soothe her soul.

It wasn’t until she sat down that he looked up. All it took was that one glance from his right eye to bring light to her vision. Like stepping out of a tunnel, he showered her in sunlight.

His lips turned up into a smile when he noticed her presence in front of him. He winked, shoving his phone into his pocket absentmindedly, right now, his only focus was on her. “Hey, darlin’,” he flirted, “it took ya long enough. Thought I might have t’ go lookin’ fer ya.”

She mustered the strongest grin she could, forcing all her energy into imitating him, hiding whatever pain lingered just beneath the surface. Her own face felt so heavy though, and even just that simple action hurt, exhausting her to the bone.

Even the most subtle change on her face was noticed by Majima. A lot of the time, she felt he could read her mind, see her soul. He always seemed to know what she was feeling, even when she didn’t know it herself.

Her whole life, people only ever bothered to take her at face value, none dared to look beyond her mask; until him. He seemed to be the only person who could feel her, see her, and hear her the way she so desperately wanted to be felt, seen, and heard.

Catching the pained expression she held, his smile fell, being replaced with one of almost shocking concern. “Wait, what’s wrong with ya? Ya look like half dead, sweetheart.” His brows furrowed as he studied her, eyes pushing back the veil to take a closer look.

She only shakes her head, looking down in embarrassment. She never wanted to make him worry, to take away that smile she loved seeing. The guilt of his emotion pressed on her.

He sighs, smacking the table with both gloved hands. “Well I can’t have ya sittin’ around all mopey like this,” he teases, sing song in his voice being exaggerated more than usual, like hands trying to lift her up.

“Let’s get outta here,” he gestures with a thumb over his back. He takes a look around, scrunching up his face, “This place is a dump anyway.”

He stands, looking down to her with soft eyes and a half smile. The sympathy in his features nearly broke her. He was so tender in the way he looked at her, trying to tell her ‘You’ll be okay, I’m right here,’ without speaking.

A black hand extends to her, fingers spread wide open, awaiting her to place her own inside it. Shaking with anticipation and anxiety, she gives the hand what it wants. Gently, his glove closes around her skin, leading her to follow him into the street.

Alone on the sidewalk and away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears, his voice lowers, losing all semblance of its usual insincerity, “How about I treat you to some takoyaki? You like yours with extra sauce, don’t you?”

***

The loud music of the film’s end credits snap her from her thoughts. Glancing back to the television, she watches the white letters roll up on a black screen. The names of the actors and production team stare back at her, reminding her she hadn’t been paying attention.

As the music fades, and the credits finish out, the screen goes black, casting the room in a peaceful darkness. Only peaceful because he was here with her, shielding her from its harsh cold and uncertainty.

She feels him chuckle on her chest, muttering more to himself than her, “Shit, that was pretty damn good. Can’t believe that punk was some natural born kung fu master, never saw that one coming.”

With a sigh, he goes to unwrap his hand from hers and grab the remote to turn the TV off. He removes his arm from under her pillow to push off her and get up. Feeling his grasp on her hand loosen, she instinctively tightens her own, her other hand pushing his shoulder back down onto her chest.

Majima huffs, falling back onto her. Craning his head to try and look at her, he grumbles, “Jeez, lady, what’re you doin’?”

Her grip on him only tightens more, fingers digging into him, scared he might leave her grasp and disappear into the night. Not able to contain herself anymore, her muscles tense under him.

Her skin felt like it was on fire, every sensation of him on her burning hot with a feeling she couldn’t describe. Feeling her heart swelling to almost burst, she breathes deep, a stinging in her eyes becoming more and more prevalent.

She wasn’t sure what was happening to her, why all of the sudden she felt like a dam had broken inside her, emotion gushing through the cracks and drowning her on dry land.

Yet, of course he could tell. He always did. Squeezing her hand in his, he mutters to her, voice barely above a whisper. “You okay?” he asks tenderly, “I know it kinda got sappy there fer a minute but that ain’t no reason t’ cry.” Repeating his action from earlier, his thumb ghosts across her knuckles.

It could have been his physical touch or the way his words touched her soul but either way, that was the last crack in the dam. A sob erupted from her throat- hot, almost steamy tears cascading down her cheeks and onto the pillow.

She only grips him tighter, near to drawing blood with her nails on his back. Her head finds itself leaning against his silky black hair, cheek pressing firmly onto his skull. Nose buried in his dark locks, she chokes, tears still flowing like a waterfall, “I love you, Goro…”

The words fell from her lips like a prayer. Like it was the only important thing she would ever say. It felt like a confession, though the time for all that had long gone by.

In her moment of frail weakness, Majima is finally able to push off her, just enough to look her in the eye. Her vision of him was not as clear as usual, the water blurring him and barring her from seeking refuge in his eye. Had she not been crying, she would have seen the change in his face. It faded slowly from concern to ardor, plush lips pressing together.

Lifting his hand, he reaches it to touch her cheek, hot and wet from her overflow. Wiping some of the tears off her, he whispers, “I love you too, babe. More than ya know…”

Leaning in and capturing her lips on his, he seals his promise.

#majima goro x reader #goro majima x reader #majima x reader #goro majima #majima goro

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iamnotawomanimagod · 2 years

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(drug abuse/use talk under the cut)

god I just wish I had access to my OWN adderall. I just wish I had a prescription!

I can't imagine feeling like this every day, that seems like a dream. like an unattainable, total impossibility of an option. like the idea that other people get to feel like this every day without chemical assistance is mind-boggling to me.

I'm just so worried about coming across as drug-seeking. My psychiatrist is already wary because of my drug abuse with marijuana, and I previously told her I "liked xanax too much" (it turns out she personally does not prescribe it anyway as she thinks it's not the right solution, which works for me since I can't take it.)

although looking back I didn't like xanax so much as I appreciated the fact that it turned the volume down on my meltdowns. being on the right bipolar meds has just generally helped my meltdowns so much that even if I could take xanax, I don't think I'd elect to.

but adderall, man. I fucking love adderall.

I get so much done. I feel so much better. I feel like an actual person with energy and motivation and the ability to execute my plans. I get things done. I don't feel the overpowering urge to pass out in the middle of the afternoon - an urge high amounts of caffeine barely even scratches the surface of fixing.

like I started my period today and usually that means I'd be in bed for most of the day. it exhausts me to the point of no return. but with the adderall I barely even remember that I'm on it. this time last month I was curled up in bed sobbing and on the verge of going to the hospital. this month I am 100% fine.

I also took pain medication at the first sign of trouble which almost certainly helped, but still. even with minimal cramps my exhaustion is usually much worse, especially when I'm on my period.

I do want to talk to my psychiatrist about this. I don't know how to broach the subject. I suppose I should just be honest. but the fact that I've been taking them without a prescription is a big red flag and I know she won't like that.

plus I am 99.9% sure she will want me to quit smoking weed before she even considers it.

I need to quit anyway. if I can focus on things well enough to complete them, maybe I won't feel the urge to smoke weed just to keep myself from dying of boredom. maybe I can get and keep a job. like I feel like I could handle a job when I'm on adderall. I feel like I could handle socializing and being responsible and staying on top of things.

but I also know that there's a lot of danger here and a lot of red flags. like I am intimately acquainted with what addiction and addictive behavior looks like. it's so hard to get a read on yourself though. addicts aren't exactly known for honest self-awareness, denial is more the name of the game for them (for us, if I'm being 100% real. see I just did it.)

I can also tell that I did take too much today. my brain is buzzing and I feel hyperactive. Idk that's probably a sign it doesn't do what it should do, right? but dosage is important. when I limit myself to 10mg I feel productive but not wired.

I both want advice and don't want advice, lol.

it's such a touchy subject for me because addiction absolutely runs in the family, it's ruined more lives for my loved ones than I can really count and in ways that are hard to quantify. but trust me when I say that suffering because of addicts and addiction is a very old reality for me. I know I'm both extremely susceptible to addiction and perhaps a bit too hyper-vigilant about it.

jesus fuck look how much I just wrote lol.

at least I can look back on this tomorrow and decide how nuts I seem right now lmao.

whether I need it or could benefit from it or not, I did take too much today. I can't do this again.

if I take it to be more productive, I can't do that more than twice a month, at MOST, and I can't take more than two per day.

that's the limit, that's how I manage this. and if I can handle that and keep myself under control but I also notice a significant increase in my quality of life when I do responsibly take it, then I'll feel better about approaching my psychiatrist.

I still don't know how to though, without admitting that I've been taking my husband's 'script. (with his permission.)

problem for a future day. it's not like I can do anything about it at 7:45 on a Tuesday evening lol.

#if you reblog this I'll find you and steal your favorite article of clothing and I'll use it as a loincloth #and then I'll send you a selfie that will haunt your dreams #so D O N ' T #no but seriously as cute as that reblog hex is pls don't #rambling about my life #I have new followers recently so I'm even wary to post this lol #wish there was a way to limit post viewability to mutuals alone

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joyandthephantoms · 3 years

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26. "I know you don't feel great, so let's stay home today, okay?" for the ship of your choice! (Cause i have a type lol)

um. yeah so when you said "ship of your choice" I really didn't think I was gonna land on Nick and Carrie and then write something four times longer than any of my other jatp fics but! here we are!! I'm really really happy with how this turned out though <3

5k, T, Nick/Carrie

Content warnings: discussion of possession-related trauma/loss of autonomy, brief reference to suicidal ideation, general unhealthy relationships

ao3 link

Nick didn’t expect to find himself back at the Wilson house this quickly. He didn’t really expect to ever come back here at all; he was serious about not getting back together with Carrie.

And they’re not back together, but they’re . . . Nick doesn’t know what they are.

Things have been . . . beyond weird for Nick. How could they not be? A power-hungry ghost decided that Nick was the best way to get to Julie Molina because of his stupid crush, and decided to steal his body for a month while Nick watched everything and alternated between trying to figure out how to scream and trying to figure out how to stop existing at all. By now, Caleb's been gone longer than he was here, but it's not like the days when he's not in control just cancel out the ones when he was.

So after Caleb left and Nick managed to accomplish the initial goal of “stop violently shaking all the time” (it took hours to stop at first, a week for the tremors to stop constantly coming back—Nick has never seen his dads so terrified), he’s had to focus all his energy on regaining his presence in his own body and his sense of control and sense of self and confidence that he still gets to decide the kind of person he’ll be.

And he’s trying to do that as alone as possible, because he’s not who he wants to be yet, and he can’t stand to keep hurting anyone while he figures out how to be a person.

He still spends most of his time paralyzed by the fear that Caleb will come back, that he’ll blink and find that he’s not alone in his head anymore and all of his choices have been snatched out of his hands again.

Sometimes Nick convinces himself that Caleb has come back—he forgets to move and he panics thinking he can’t; someone smiles at him and Caleb’s supercilious satisfaction at having manipulated them curls in his stomach; he catches a glance of Julie and all of Caleb’s plans to ruin her life and take control of her band’s magic cut straight to the front of his mind—and he has to spend hours methodically tapping his fingers against each other or writing down every thought he has until the shape of them looks more like him and less like Caleb, or sitting pressed against Willie and listening to him softly talk about anything he can think of, until he’s sure again that he’s just Nick. That there’s nothing behind those thoughts and feelings but his own brain.

And that’s just it, isn’t it? He doesn’t need Caleb to come back in order to be fucked up like this, he can do it all on his own. Even if the ghost is gone for good, Nick is still too haunted to be anything but a helpless wreck, too lost and scared and hurt to be good to anyone right now.

So he does his best to be alone, and he’s succeeded, mostly.

He didn’t have to try very hard; as it turns out, acting like a major creep and getting hostile with all the people who get worried or suspicious is a great way to lose all your friends. And anyone who didn’t give up on him during the Caleb thing eventually decided it wasn’t worth trying after Nick kept brushing off and avoiding everyone. He tries not to be hurt by them reacting in the exact way he was aiming for.

He still spends time with Willie, because they’re the only person Nick is actually convinced would be hurt more by Nick leaving than by him staying, and Luke keeps following him around like someone just informed him ghosts are supposed to haunt people and he’s making up for lost time. But everyone else keeps their distance, and Nick lets them.

Everyone except for Carrie, apparently.

The thing about losing all his friends is it means there’s no shame in gossiping about him anymore. He’s never been immune to it—he dated Carrie Wilson on and off for more than a year, people were bound to talk about him sometimes. The difference is that back then, almost everybody liked Nick, so there were always enough people uncomfortable with being mean about him, enough acquaintances willing to go I don’t know, Nick’s a really good guy that the rumors always stayed quiet and mild and boring.

With that safety net thoroughly slashed to pieces, and with Nick being a much more interesting topic of conversation now, especially with how closely the whole mess is tied to Julie and her increasingly popular band, there’s nothing to stop Nick from hearing all the harshest takes about him his classmates are trading around.

He didn’t expect Carrie to come to his defense, but she did, and she was vicious, taking every opportunity to jump down the throat of anyone who even looked at Nick wrong and firing back the worst things she could think to say about them and being sure to complain conspicuously to her friends about how fucking pathetic it was, the way people were going after Nick.

It didn’t help. Like, at all. It definitely made it all worse, because the whispers about Nick mixed with whispers about Carrie, and about Nick and Carrie and what was going on between them and didn’t he hate her now? and was she really that desperate to get back with him, after everything? and a reprise of the awful chorus of did you hear about her dad? At that Panic! concert?

When people were just talking about him, all it did was exhaust Nick, but this made him furious.

Holding his temper, before, never felt much like holding anything. It was more like settling—settling the tight feeling in his chest and making a decision to find space to sort through it all and come back to address things if he needed to, or settling into a decision to let it go and forget about it.

These days, though, it feels like tightly clutching the leash of a fighting animal, like trying to hold back a tidal wave with a wall that’s only as thick as his skin. It feels like a battle stacked against him, and he doesn’t really want to know what happens if he loses.

So he didn’t stick up for Carrie like she stuck up for him, as bad as he feels about it. But he’s always believed firmly in saying thank you, and even though none of what Carrie did helped, it still meant something that she tried at all, and he told her as much.

And it was easy, from there, to start accepting her invitations to hang out, to keep answering all her questions about the ghosts, to fall into something sort of like friendship.

He didn’t push her away like he did everyone else, because she’s stubborn and he’s tired, because it’s easy and familiar to slip back into some kind of relationship with Carrie that doesn’t feel quite right, because . . . because there’s a difference between thinking something and feeling it, and as much as he feels it, Nick doesn’t think that Caleb is coming back, or that he’s going to hurt Carrie in some major, devastating, tangible way.

And if he hurts her in smaller ways . . . well, maybe he cares a little less with Carrie than he would with anyone else, because she hurt him first.

Which is terrible. It’s a terrible way for Nick to look at another person.

He’s not even sure it’s true. The she-hurt-me-first defense is always there, thrown up like a shield every time he gets too close to his feelings about all of this, but really? Carrie hurt other people, and that bothered Nick. She got on his nerves; she exhausted him; he really didn’t like her much by the end. He’s not sure any of that is the same as hurting.

And he knows he hurt her, even if he never meant to. He knows he wasn’t the best boyfriend in the world. He’s not an asshole, and he never stopped trying to be kind, but somewhere along the way, he stopped trying to like her, and that feels like a betrayal in itself.

Of course, that’s how he feels now, but in an hour or so she’ll do something that annoys him again and he’ll go off on a whole new spiral about how much their relationship sucked for him, and he’ll be mad at her all over again and twice as confused.

He wants to be able to break this down into something he can make sense of and learn from and move on from, but every time he tries he ends up feeling exhausted and frustrated and just as tangled up as ever.

It’s for the best that they broke up. It’s a good idea to give each other space, to spend their time separately with people who they haven’t made such a mess with yet.

It’s probably not good that he’s waking up in her guest bedroom.

He didn’t mean to stay as long as he did. He thought he’d hang out with her for a few hours after school, maybe call her later in the night; that’s nothing out of the ordinary for them these days.

And then the hours slipped by and they kept talking, and they ended up at her house and they kept talking, and Nick’s text to his dads telling them he’d miss dinner became a text telling them he was spending the night at Carrie’s, and they kept talking.

Mostly about the ghosts, because it’s always mostly about the ghosts.

Every once in a while their conversations wind over to her telling him about how her dad is keeping things from her (he always is, but sometimes he’s so obvious about it) and it drives her insane (“like actually insane, Nick, I don’t know how to think when he does this”) and she knows he loves her but she can’t remember the last time he really looked at her, and she thinks she loved Julie but one day she just stopped and now Julie hates her for it and she’s not sure she ever started again for anyone, and everyone else feels everything so much more and so much less than her and she doesn’t know what to do with that. But confessions like that from Carrie are more the exception than the rule.

More often, what happens is Nick strays away from explaining the facts of what happened and speculating about how all the ghost stuff works and he starts staring up at her ceiling and rambling about how he feels utterly lost and the only thing that feels his anymore is the guilt that’s trying to turn his skin inside out.

He’s still getting used to having conversations with Carrie that don’t all revolve around her. Which isn’t as stupid and sad as it sounds.

Because he liked listening to Carrie talk, okay? She’s a good storyteller, and he liked the rising and falling of her voice, and he liked that the longer she talked, the more she sounded like herself, like there were layers of her image she was willing to drop one by one just for him.

He liked that it was the closest he got to behind-the-scenes Carrie. Because it’s always a performance with her—she puts every choice on display for anyone who will look, treats every interaction like it’s an audition for a part in her own life. Like she’s afraid if she misses a cue, she’ll be fired from the role of Carrie Wilson. Like she’s trying to prove that no one can ever afford to replace her.

It was one of the harder things about dating her, the way she would get all indignant and scornful and disappointed when Nick didn’t play his part the way she’d expected, even though she’d never given him a script.

And then when they were alone . . . it wasn’t that she let go of all of that and let him see behind the curtain (he thinks he has, but only a few times, and he’s not sure she let him on purpose), but more that when they hung out alone, it was like she let him sit in on rehearsal, when all anyone else ever got to see was the final polished show.

He thinks a lot about how lonely she’s got to be, going through life like that. He recognized it back when they were dating, too, and it always made his chest hurt with a mixture of smugness and anxiety and awe, to be the one person she trusted like that, even if “like that” usually meant still buried under a few layers of performance, and guarded by pre-emptive biting defenses, and without any real effort to know Nick in the same way.

He wonders sometimes if he’s messed her up forever now by letting her give him so much more of herself than anyone else got, and then giving up on her anyway. Carrie is better—is amazing and fun and captivating and brilliant—when she's more herself. He'd hate to think he ruined the chances of other people getting to see that by not being gentle enough with the chance he got. He'd hate to think he made her want to hide more.

He tries not to feel like an asshole for breaking up with her, because even if his stomach turns thinking about how it hurt her, he wasn't wrong to end a relationship that wasn't good for either of them. He wasn't wrong to end a relationship that wasn't good for him, regardless of what it was for Carrie.

But he is an asshole for pretending that every nice thing he did for Carrie was about her, and for letting her and everyone else think it was just because he loved her and wanted to be good to her, when really it had just as much to do with wanting to prove people right when they said he was a saint for putting up with her.

At his most cynical, he found himself thinking she didn’t actually care about him at all, that he was just there to be her nice, supportive, well-liked athlete boyfriend to round out the Carrie Wilson Story she was trying to sell.

But he can’t pretend he didn’t do the exact same thing to her, using her as a prop in the story he was telling himself (and letting his friends tell) about what a good, nice, patient person he was, about how much better he was compared to Carrie and compared to everyone who didn’t get to see her the way he did, about how little she deserved him.

He wanted her to be happy, sure, but he also wanted to feel superior and martyred and noble for providing that happiness.

He’s pretty sure that spending time together now doesn’t make her feel happy or make him feel like a good person. Which isn’t the point.

The point is that maybe it’s fitting that now, no matter how much Carrie asks him questions about himself and gives him the space he needs to feel things and pays attention to him more than she ever did, it still never quite feels like it’s about him as much as it’s about how it affects her.

Because there’s obviously something at the heart of her deep investment in figuring out all of the ghost stuff. She has all her history with Julie, and all her history with Nick, and the whole thing is connected to a bunch of stuff about her dad and his past that she never knew about, and she was suspicious of the hologram excuse from the start. Nick knows all of this, and he’s sure it all factors in, but he still feels like he’s missing some critical piece of it.

(He doesn’t mean to imply she defended him and sought him out and started talking to him again just because he has information she wants. She does genuinely care about him; she can do things for more than one reason; she’s just as entitled to complicated, mixed-up feelings as he is.)

Regardless of her motives, all of this does affect her; it’s obvious if you know how to look. Carrie and Nick are opposites when they’re not doing well—where he pulls back and drops responsibilities and can’t keep up with anything, she commits twice as hard to everything, pours extra energy into maintaining her image, gets an insane amount of work done. Where he starts to crumble, she builds her walls higher.

So the fact that she’s been trying out a bunch of new strategies for engagement on her social media, doubling Dirty Candy rehearsals and tripling her intensity at them, and still finding a ton of time to dig into Sunset Curve’s past and learn every documented fact about Caleb Covington and listen to Nick dump all of his ghost-related trauma, all without letting a single hair fall out of place, is . . . cause for concern.

He’s pretty sure she’s okay, but like, okay in the way that he and Willie promise each other they’re okay on bad days, when they mean there are things that scare me more than what I’m feeling right now and I promise if you let go of my hand I won’t forget how to breathe.

So, only okay if you bend the definition, and maybe if Nick were a better person he’d do something about the way he knows she feels. But this is just how they operate now, and it goes both ways—they have all this intimate knowledge of each other’s feelings mostly absent of any responsibility for them.

He wouldn’t know what to do or how, anyway; he doesn’t know how to do anything for her when they won’t cut through the bullshit and actually connect with each other. There’s so much between them, a jumbled mess of things left unsaid and feelings left unexamined and love and resentment and hurt and regret, and trying to pull it apart—trying to even look at it—makes Nick feel like everything inside him has been set on fire and then dunked underwater, and he’s sure it’s not any easier on Carrie’s end.

So they leave it all sitting between them and cross their fingers that time will heal the wounds instead of letting them fester, and they stay locked in this fragile balance of being stubbornly separate and carelessly close, and it’s less like they’re carrying a weight together and more like they’re volleying it back and forth over the wall that divides them, and they talk about everything but there’s still so much they can’t and won’t say to each other.

And, God, whatever time it is, it’s way too fucking early to be thinking about this.

The clock on the wall tells him it’s 7:06. First period doesn’t start until 8:30, and Carrie’s house is 20 minutes from school at worst, so Nick isn’t in any rush, but he can tell he’s not going to fall back asleep, and Carrie hates being late, so he may as well get up now.

He’s got a morning ritual, now, of taking a couple minutes to check in with his body and emotions and surroundings before he tries to do anything else. Therapy can only do so much when he can’t talk about the trauma that made him need it, but he can at least learn some strategies like this one, which . . . mostly works. Every once in a while it backfires and makes him panic, but mostly it helps him feel grounded and as ready for a new day as he can be.

His body is . . . fine. He’s tired, but not so tired that it hurts, and he’ll be hungry once he’s more awake, but he’s fine. He shakes his arms out and runs a hand through his hair, and the sensation feels real, and he thinks that’s about the best he can hope for.

As far as emotions go: he’s tired. Spacey, angry in the way he always is now, a little jittery. Guilty on at least three different levels, but he can’t handle looking closely at all of them. There’s guilt that goes straight to the center of his chest, that feels locked into him, and maybe ignoring that defeats the whole purpose of this kind of self-awareness exercise, but he can’t function if he thinks about it, so he’s not. There’s guilt that’s more like regret, almost soft, that floats somewhere around his head, deceptively light for something thick enough to choke on. And, right now, a kind of nervous guilt that pools in his stomach, a sense of wrongness about whatever this thing is with Carrie.

All in all, it’s not the worst cocktail of feelings he’s ever woken up to.

Which just leaves his surroundings. The guest room at Nick's house is a double bed stuck into a playroom he and his sisters grew out of, but this part of the Wilson mansion was clearly intended from the start just to host guests (although whatever kind of guests Trevor Wilson was expecting when his mansion was designed, his teenage daughter's ex-boyfriend was probably not among them).

It feels like a hotel room, or like part of a rented beach house, with the sea-green and coral color scheme and floaty curtains and seashell decorations everywhere. And it's huge—high ceiling, an empty walk-in closet, an on suite bathroom with a whole Jacuzzi.

It makes Nick feel small. But so do a lot of things.

It should only take him 10 or 15 minutes to get through this self check in thing and get his teeth brushed and face washed, but he has to work extra hard when he’s somewhere that isn’t home, and he’s just a little out of it today in general, so instead it takes him until 7:40 to properly get up and out of this room.

He expects to find Carrie waiting for him in the den, ready and impatient to head out the door, or at the kitchen island with a smoothie and a protein bar, but she’s not either of those places, or anywhere downstairs, so after a few minutes of wandering he comes back up and knocks on her bedroom door.

“Come in.” Her voice is raspy and tight enough that he can’t reasonably chalk it up just to the fact that she hasn’t been up long.

He steps into her room, and his suspicions are confirmed—she looks terrible. Her hair is limp and flat, her whole face flushed, her eyes heavy and distant. The way she holds herself makes her look stiff and weak at the same time, and her makeup is spread out on her vanity in front of her, but it doesn’t look like she’s touched any of it.

Nick’s presence seems to snap her back to action a little bit; she blinks quickly and reaches for her concealer, but her hand shakes, and she knocks a couple of things over in the process.

“We’re going to be late,” she whispers.

Nick could tell last night that Carrie was probably coming down with something—her voice didn’t sound quite right then, either, and she just seemed tired. But he didn’t push it, because Carrie hates being sick, and especially hates acknowledging that she’s sick, and Nick just really didn’t feel like dealing with it unless he had to.

They’ve definitely crossed into “have to” territory now, so he says, as carefully as he can, “I know you don’t feel great, so let’s stay home today, okay?”

She scoffs, and even though she’s turned away from him, he’s sure she rolls her eyes too. He hates when she does this, like it’s not even worth it to tell him what he’s done wrong.

“Come on, Carrie, I don’t want to deal with school today either.”

She sets down her tube of concealer and twists around to look him in the eye. For a second, he thinks she's going to start crying, and he almost wants her to—not because he wants her to be hurt, but just because he wants something to break the tension between them; he wants permission to step in and comfort her in a way he understands.

She doesn't cry. She says, “You’re a terrible liar.”

She’s . . . not wrong. Nick isn’t totally lying—he really doesn’t want to deal with trying to block out all of his classmates, and trying to not block out his teachers and actually absorb at least a fraction of his lessons, and checking over his shoulder for ghosts all day long because even if he could convince himself there's absolutely no way Caleb is following him (he can't), he's sure he'll find Luke lurking around at least one corner. But he’s even less interested in dealing with himself if he doesn’t go.

Sometimes he thinks he’s got this backwards, that he should want to rebel against any structure presented to him just to prove he can fight back against something . But Caleb never cared much about class attendance or lacrosse practice or having Nick home for dinner, so now Nick holds onto those things as tight as he can. Disrupting his routine runs the risk of setting him spiraling about why he’s not where he’s supposed to be. Spending the night in a room that isn’t his was bad enough.

He's not used to Carrie knowing him well enough to call him on this.

But anyway, as much as Nick doesn't want to throw off his routine even more, Carrie definitely shouldn't be going anywhere—she’s always at her best in the morning, so if she’s too worn out at 8 am to hide how bad she feels, there’s no way she’s healthy enough for school.

“Please," he says. "I don’t want to fight right now.” She can’t accuse him of lying about that. She doesn't respond, and she doesn't look at him again, so he adds, “I can call your dad and get him to tell the school so we don’t have to worry about it, can we please just—"

“God, yes, fine, we’ll stay here if you’re going to make such a big deal about it," she snaps, and for a moment Nick catches a glimpse of this image he has of Carrie as someone on the cusp of something, like she's realized she doesn't want to be the person she's been anymore but she hasn't figured out how to be anything else yet.

Or maybe Nick is just projecting.

He stares at her for a beat too long, then shakes himself out of it, says, “Okay. Okay, good, thank you, I'm gonna—I'll be back in a minute, just don't go anywhere."

She rolls her eyes again, and he leaves.

Nick honestly has no clue what Trevor Wilson does these days, because he hasn’t been actively rockstar-ing in years, but he’s busy enough with something that he’s been out of the house for an hour and he’s not picking up his phone.

Nick leaves a voicemail, and sends a text too for good measure, and calls it good enough. He'll try again if he doesn't hear back in the next 30 minutes.

The novelty of having Trevor's personal number has mostly worn off—he got it a couple months into dating Carrie the first time, "in case of emergencies; your friends wanting autographed merch isn't an emergency," and he's never had reason to use it before now—but every once in a while it hits him again. He can just . . . text Trevor Wilson.

And he's been in this house more times than he can count, and he knows Carrie better than anyone, and he's never felt more grateful that hurting the Wilsons was never a priority of Caleb's.

He could have done so much damage. A lot of it would have involved violating a few nondisclosure agreements, which, yeah, would have definitely stopped Caleb, because he's just so well known for his respect for boundaries and consideration for the consequences incurred on Nick's life by his choices.

It doesn't matter. Nothing happened there, and Nick has more pressing things to take care of than freaking out about things Caleb didn't do.

He calls home, which goes about like he expected—his dad seems a little skeptical about Carrie actually being sick, and Nick's already sort of on thin ice because technically he's supposed to ask his dads before spending the night with someone else and not just tell them, but it's all fine; his dad agrees to call the school, and Nick won't get in any real trouble as long as he keeps trying to communicate with them, because they're all about rewarding progress and this is undeniably an improvement over how he acted when he was literally fucking possessed.

Before he goes back upstairs, he thinks for a minute about texting Carrie to see if she wants him to make tea, but he knows that if he does she’ll start stressing about her voice and make him bring her something with lemon and drink all of it even though she hates it, and Nick is really not in the mood for that right now.

So he comes back to Carrie's room with just a water bottle, which he hands to her, and a thermometer, which he sets down on her nightstand and doesn't say a word about, because the second he's sharing space with her again, the idea of checking her temperature feels way too intimate. It's stupid—he can stay up all night spilling his secrets to her, sleep in her house, make her stay home, put away all her makeup because he remembers how she likes it organized, but seeing whether or not she's got a fever, that's too much. For some reason.

Carrie’s back in her bed, which is good, but she’s got her laptop out in front of her and she’s frowning intently at it, which is less good. Nick is positive that if he leaves her alone she’ll fall down some rabbit hole that’ll stress her out to hell and back, and if he just tells her that she should rest she’ll stay awake all day out of spite. So he sits down beside her, and once he’s confident she’s not going to try to jedi-force him off the bed with a glare, he says, “We never finished Love is Blind, did we?”

It was just a thing they did, watching dating shows together, but only the stupidest ones, and making fun of them the whole time. They'd only gotten through a few episodes of this one, and part of Nick expects Carrie to be mad at the reminder of something left unfinished because of their breakup, but she doesn’t seem to be.

They've barely been up an hour and the tally for her rolling her eyes at him is up to at least four, but this one is accompanied by a slight smile, and he’s more proud of that than is reasonable. It’s just . . . it's been a long time since he’s made her smile. Or made anyone smile.

She grumbles something about how he's not subtle and she knows what he's doing, Nicholas, but she closes whatever she was looking at on her laptop and pulls up the show instead.

He starts to wrap an arm around her, then hesitates. A few months ago it would have been as natural as breathing, as greeting his lacrosse buddies with smiles and high fives, but as weirdly emotionally close as they are, Nick doesn't think he's touched Carrie once since they broke up. So he checks: "This okay?"

“Mhm.” She barely looks away from the screen, and with anyone else he’d wonder if she’d even heard the question, but she’s Carrie. If she was upset about this, she’d be laser-focused on him.

He settles his arm across her shoulders, and she leans over to rest her head against him, and they watch their stupid show, and it all feels so normal and so bizarre and unreal at once that his brain short-circuits.

She feels really warm. He hopes he made the right call on not making her take her temperature.

And Nick is definitely going to catch whatever she's got, but if an aching throat and burning skin make it harder to forget that he lives in his body, he'll take it.

Besides, it's not as if he could leave Carrie to suffer alone.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #my writing #nick x carrie #Lilly tag

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