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quack-quack-snacks · 4 months

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Drowning Without You By My Side

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Pairing(s): Cha Hyun-su x Fem!Reader Summary: Ever since losing everything, you felt like you were drowning. Trying to end it all wasn't successful when an unknown and unnatural force was hell-bent on stopping you, but when a near-death experience - unintended this time - causes you to tempt Death's grasp, you finally meet the force keeping you bound to the world. Warnings: Season 2 spoilers (slightly)! Slight panic attack, drowning, explicit detail of attempted suicide on the reader's part (The National Suicide and Crisis Hotline is 988. There are so many people who care about you and would love to help you. You are not alone), cutting and bleeding (during the roll calls), Ah-yi being too cute for her own good, and Hyun-su being a fond little cinnamon roll and a great big brother (even if it's only for a scene), no use of (y/n). Word Count: 6,163

Pt 2: Floating Above Those Dark Skies :)

Hyun-su!

You woke up with a start, sweat slickening your skin and causing the slightly ripped t-shirt to stick to your back. It was designed with a band of which you'd never heard the likes of before the apocalypse started. Your breathing was quickened intensely and you wiped your hands over your face, pushing your palms into your eye sockets as you fruitlessly tried to calm your heart rate. It took several minutes of doing every method you knew to stop a panic attack before you were finally able to take a deep breath without it stuttering in your lungs. You swung your legs over the edge of the hammock you had designated as your bed since you first arrived at the stadium all those months ago. To know that you hadn’t seen the boy you once called home in over half a year was a hard pill to swallow. You hated yourself for letting him go.

Hated that you didn’t try harder to follow after him.

Hated that you let the group force you onto the truck with them and head to the safety camp.

It was a never-ending cycle of self-loathing since you’d arrived at the stadium. When you’d found the secret exit leading out of the stuffy concrete walls you were trapped in, you found yourself leaving whenever possible. You couldn't handle the pitiful stares of your fellow Green Home survivors and the eyes of the citizens in the stadium who disliked the woman that protected the “murderer” of the chief’s husband. Although Eun-yoo and you did not really have any sort of relationship in terms of friendship, you had an unspoken agreement to protect and stand up for each other. If not each other, you had no one. The people you each had viewed as the closest to you of anyone had gone missing or even passed on to the next life. You both refused to admit that last thought out loud, though.

Every morning, you would wake up and attend the morning roll call before getting dressed and leaving for the day until you returned just in time for the evening roll call.

Today would be no different.

You dropped your bare feet onto the frigid concrete floor and walked towards the bathroom, suppressing a shiver. The entrance to the bathroom had been taken off after an incident inside of the stadium. It involved none other than yourself and the elder brother of one of the boys who bullied Yeong-su when the two of you got into a fight. You can remember the exact words he had spoken to you after you talked to him about the boy’s behavior.

“The little shit deserves it. Being the little brother of a murderer and the devil’s advocate,” he’d said, referring to Eun-yu and yourself. “I hope he ends up becoming a monster. I even hope I’ll be the one to have the honor of killing him.”

You remember punching him square in the nose as soon as the words left his mouth. He’d flown backward and slammed into the bathroom door, successfully knocking it off the hinges and breaking the flimsy wood in half. You were positively seething at the absolute audacity the man had. Not being satisfied with how he’d fallen, you jumped on top of him and started pounding your fist into his face. You hit him over and over again, undeterred by the few hits he managed to get in, until you were pulled off of him. You started thrashing around violently when you felt hands wrapping around you to pull you off of him until you realized it was Park Chan-young, the young soldier who had been an alibi and friend to you and the rest of the Green Home survivors since you’d first gotten on that truck. A small crowd had gathered around after hearing the commotion and yells coming from the two of you before they all parted to allow Chief Ji in. When she saw you, her confused stare deepened to a glare but she ignored you in favor of transporting the brother you had just fought to the medical room. That was a hell of a day.

The inside of the bathroom was a regular locker room. Not surprising considering it was originally used for the players of the baseball team. The only difference was one of the walls was poorly rebuilt with rocks and bricks by Chief Ji and some of the stadium's residents after it was impacted by the missiles.

Before you had started heading over to the bathroom, you had grabbed your small compact bag of hygiene supplies and brought it with you. Although toothpaste was hard to come by and you had to share the rations the soldiers found with your neighbors, you were able to find some on one of your days out. You brushed your teeth dry, not wanting to use any of the limited water on something like brushing your teeth. This had become something you were used to.

Finally returning to your sleeping space, you didn’t bother changing out of the clothes you slept in and just decided to continue wearing them. The outfit was comfortable yet simple: a pair of oversized off-white sweatpants you had to manually make a drawstring for using a shoestring, and a short-sleeved dark blue shirt. Your shoes were the same ones you wore the first day this monsterization started. They were originally a pristine white you had tried your hardest not to taint, but now they were stained beyond repair from your adventures. You consider yourself lucky you had only bought them a week before the outbreak. They held up well throughout the year you’d spent with them as your sole pair of shoes.

The morning announcement calling for roll call sounded through the silent air of the little enclosed unit you were lucky enough to be given.

Although luck may not have been the true cause. So many people were reluctant to be near you when they slept and complained enough times to the chief that she eventually just set you apart from the rest. Although it was lonely at times, you were thankful for the shred of privacy you had been granted.

Once your shoes had been put on along with your sweater, you calmly walked down the hall toward the place where your assigned group met for roll calls. You arrived just in time to see Yeong-su slap away Jin-ok’s hand when she tried to pull him back from a soldier who was grinning meanly at him. You could see the built-up tears in the boy’s eyes that he desperately was trying to push away and rushed forward. Seeing the reasoning behind his tears, despite the consequences that you knew would ensue, you roughly pushed against the soldier’s back which sent him tumbling forward and his face met the ground floor with a sickening sound. You risked a glance to look back at Yeong-su and Jin-ok. Yeong-su’s arm was bleeding rapidly, seeming obvious that the soldier who cut him too deeply hit an artery. Hopefully, it wasn't a major one. The boy’s lip was quivering as he held back his tears. You could see all the emotions in his eyes: anger, frustration, helplessness, but mainly relief. Relief from you coming in to defend him. You quickly sent a look to Jin-ok and she immediately knew what you meant. She gently took Yeong-su’s hand and this time he didn’t resist as she led them both away from the scene and to their living quarters.

You barely had time to let out a relieved smile before a fist was sent flying into your left cheek, sending your head snapping to the right and you falling back, only barely and painfully catching yourself with your elbows. You looked up at your assailant to see the officer who was tormenting Yeong-su standing above you. His nose was bleeding heavily and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was beginning the transition period to a monster. He wiped at his nose to no avail and sent you a heavy glare. He leaned down and roughly grabbed your arm, hauling you to your feet and pulling out his knife. You held eye contact even when the blade roughly slashed across your forearm, right over an already existing cut. You praised yourself internally on how you kept your face entirely neutral and how the soldier looked angry and disappointed at your lack of reaction.

You gave him a slight smirk as you held up your bleeding arm for his view, the blood gushing down and covering your bruised elbow. “Happy?” You questioned tauntingly and your smirk grew as you saw the man seething. Despite his intimidating height, you couldn’t help but think he looked like a cartoon character with the way you were sure steam would be bursting out of his ears at any second. When he made no further move to continue the fight, you swiftly turned around and walked out of the room, smiling when you heard him yell in frustration and throw something to the floor. The knife, you presumed.

You didn’t bother visiting the doctor to help you treat your wounds as you wrapped a strap of clothing around it and called it a day. Any respect you had for him instantly flew down the drain when you caught him drinking the rubbing alcohol meant for treating wounds and acting immaturely all the time. You walked in the direction of the exit, making sure to not be spotted by any soldiers as you did. When you finally got there and pushed the door open, you let out a breath of relief. The moment you stepped out the door and into the clean air of the outdoors, you felt yourself relax a little more than before. You found it odd how you felt more relaxed outside of the safe haven the stadium provided but you couldn’t help yourself. In the outdoors, you felt free. You could think without hindrance and allow yourself to feel an emotion that wasn't complete and utter despair.

The ground crunched below your feet as you walked across the gravel towards the green grass fields. You had no objective or destination in mind for today, you just wanted to escape the oppressive hands of your 'superiors.'

Walking on light feet, still making sure to keep your head focused on the area around you in case a monster appeared, you found yourself standing in front of a building. There was nothing special about this building. Half of it wasn't even attached as it lay broken in shambles around the structure. The ladder leading to the roof was rusted and had some of the metal bars sticking out awkwardly. The building in total was relatively normal and in good shape compared to those around it.

The only special thing about this building was the memories that it spurred within your head.

You climbed up the ladder, tears blocking your vision as they collected on your waterline despite your deepest efforts. You lost everyone. You lost Hyun-su; the boy you called home; the boy you called your soulmate; the boy you loved more than anyone or anything else. You lost Ji-su, the girl you decided you could call your best friend after spending so much time with her on the first floor of Green Home for those days at the beginning of this mess. You even lost Su-yeong, the little girl you’d grown so protective over… gone without a second thought. You never truly had Eun-yu so it wouldn’t hurt as much whether or not she had died. The only person you truly felt you had left was Yeong-su. You hated yourself for doing this to him but only having him wasn’t enough to stay anymore.

You felt like you were drowning. You were unable to handle the constant feeling of your emotions overpowering you. You’d heard so many times that it got easier as time went on but you never thought you would be able to overcome this. Although it might have been fitting to end your life by drowning, you just wanted a quick and painless death.

Falling solved that for you.

When you finally climbed the ladder to the roof of the building, you couldn’t help the sobs that wracked your body. You hopped up onto the edge of the building and looked up. The sky seemed to perfectly oppose how you were feeling. Soft, puffy white clouds were fluttering through the atmosphere and forming different shapes you could just barely make out. The tears slipped down the side of your face as you tried to gain some sort of peace before you followed through with your decision.

The wind was a gentle, cool breeze across your damp cheeks as you stood and glanced across the beautiful terrain below you. The grass had just barely begun to grow out of its perfect and well-maintained state, but it was still a wonderful sight to see. There were flower gardens surrounding the tall building, some crushed brutally by the falling of the walls but most were left perfectly untouched and thriving in the new world. The sight made your body calm down, the tears cascading waterfalls of sorrow down your cheeks slowly coming to a stop. You’ve heard of the acceptance of death people have when they know they’re about to die. You’d never thought you would have to face that kind of acceptance, never really thought the way you’d die would be because the world had been cruel and gave you too much pain for you to handle. You never thought that yet there you were.

There you were, standing on the edge of the tallest building you could find, one foot raised and hovering over the edge and you giving one last smile to the world before having your other foot join it.

The wind screamed in your ears and you swear you could hear voices within it. Voices calling your name. Voices that sounded too similar to one you’d lost. You let your eyes fall shut as memories flashed through your mind. Memories of reading to Su-yeong and Yeong-su; memories of playing the guitar and singing with Ji-su, laughter interrupting each word because you couldn’t take yourselves seriously; memories of Hyun-su.

Memories of shaking his hand when you first met him after he moved in across the hall from you in Green Home.

Memories of him coming to you crying for the first time and confessing how he couldn’t stand being alive anymore.

Memories of losing yourself in his eyes when he smiled at you.

Memories of his touch against your cheeks when he leaned in to leave a kiss against your forehead.

Memories of him.

A single tear drop fell from your eye and you smiled at the thought of meeting him again, whether that be in your next life or the one that comes after death. There was no doubt in your mind that he was gone, and that thought alone was more than half of your reasons for wanting to end it all.

Just as you were sure you were about to hit the bottom, a strong yet lean arm wrapped around your body and gently set you down on the ground before retreating just as quickly as it had appeared. You shot your eyes open only to be left with the blue sky above you and the intense wind that breezed over your body as whatever it was that saved you disappeared. For a few moments, you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except stare in perplexment at the sky. As you sat up, you still couldn’t think straight and allowed your body to work on autopilot as it walked you home.

It took a full week until you were finally able to come to terms with the fact that either you had imagined the whole thing or something - someone - had saved you.

A month after your first attempt, you tried again. You couldn’t handle the stares of disdain and hatred towards you after you had defended Eun-yu as others criticized her about her apparent murder of Chief Ji’s husband. Yet, just like the last time, you were saved miraculously last minute by that same strange force.

You tried a dozen more times, all ending with the same result. It was so frustrating and you could barely handle the pain knowing you couldn’t even control your death, let alone your life.

The tears streamed down your face violently as you knelt and smacked your fists angrily against the wet, coarse dirt of where you were, once again, gently placed down after another failed attempt to end your life. The shredded noose hung limp around your neck and you ripped it off aggressively. You let out an agonizing scream from the deepest part of your lungs and it ended with more sobs as you let yourself fall onto your side with your knees pulled into your chest. Your loud sobs slowly quieted down but the tears never stopped falling. You stood up from the wet ground, your hair and clothes both stained by the mud below. Water rained down from the heavens, soaking your shirt and making it cling to your chest. Your tears blurred with the raindrops that splashed against you and slowly made their way down your face, disappearing down your neck and into the collar of your shirt.

“Why are you doing this?” You yelled into the open air, receiving no answer. “Why? Why do you keep doing this? Why won’t you just let me die?” You choked on a sob at that last question and yet you still received no answer. Defeated, you decided to retreat back to the stadium and get cleaned up. When you returned, Jin-ok was the first to notice the bruising around your neck and your tired, puffy eyes. When she asked, you played dumb but you could tell she saw right through you. Luckily, she left it alone.

You ended up curled up in your hammock for hours as you sobbed your heart out.

Although the stadium might have been a better place to follow through with your plan, you refused to put your few remaining friends - if you could even really call them that - through that. Put them through the pain of seeing your dead body and knowing they might have been able to stop it. Even though you would be dead by then, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. The only way you would allow yourself to follow through was outside of the stadium.

But a certain someone, or something, wouldn’t allow that to happen.

That was the last time you tried to end your life.

You’d had many dangerous encounters since then but every time they would be cleared out by your guardian angel before you could even really call them a threat. It got to the point where you felt more safe outside the stadium compared to within its concrete walls.

Sighing, you averted your eyes from the building and walked around it, focusing instead on the plants that were just starting to bloom in the early spring. The breeze was a welcome chill that rose goosebumps along your arms. As you continued to walk, your mind blank and your feet destinationless as you wandered, you came across a large pool of water.

And a girl.

She was young, and couldn’t have been more than 5 years old. It was such a shock to see her there, especially all by herself, that you didn’t realize she was sinking until it was almost too late. Without a second of hesitation, you jumped right into the lake and swam as fast as you could towards her. Grabbing a hold of her hand, you pulled her along as you swam back up to the surface. You dragged her towards the edge of the earth where the stable ground met the water and laid her down. Lowering your head to her mouth, you tried to listen to her breathing but instead, you got a headbutt to the ear. She shot up and started coughing up water. You ignored how your ear stung at that moment and instead rubbed along her back while she breathed heavily.

“Are you okay?” You asked her and she suddenly snapped her head towards you, like she didn’t recognize your presence until you spoke.

Slowly, she nodded. “Yes,” she hesitated before quietly asking, “Did you save me?”

You smiled at her shy mannerisms as she played with the hem of her wet and dirtied dress. “Yeah, I did.”

She looked up at you, almost surprised with your confession, and gave you a shy smile back. “Thank you,” she whispered before averting her eyes again.

You couldn’t stop the smile growing even brighter on your face at her adorableness. You looked around, seeing nobody else in sight. Your eyebrows furrowed as you began to worry about who she was and why nobody was taking care of her. “Are you alo-”

Just as you started to speak, a wet and slimy tentacle-like appendage wrapped itself around your torso and yanked you back into the lake. You thrashed around but couldn’t unravel yourself from the monster’s grip. You saw your knife float away and sink further down the dark abyss that was the bottom of the lake. With it, the last of your newfound hope to live followed. Just as you lost the last of the reserved air in your lungs, a sudden figure dove into the water and wrapped its arm around you. Just before your eyes fluttered shut, you swore you saw the blurry face of the same boy who haunted your dreams. The boy who haunted your nightmares.

The same boy who haunted your mind as you stuttered between the line separating life and death after surrendering to the lack of oxygen.

“Hyun-su!”

You screamed as you saw the military take him away. You lay helplessly against the side of the crumbling Green Home building as the pain of moving around too much from your wounds caused you to be dead-weight in your spot.

He let out a scream of agony that ended with your name and you felt your heart shatter. He was surrounded by multiple people; doctors, scientists, and soldiers alike. Each person’s face was surrounded by a strange darkness. The only thing you could make out of their faces were their evil, wide smiles, and their eyes tainted a demonic red. The sight made you feel even more helpless and despair-ridden than before.

You could do nothing but watch as the love of your life was taken from you without a second thought.

Hyun-su gathered you in his human-form arm while the other, extended in his monstrous form, swung back and forth through the water to slice at the monstrous being that dared to harm you. He didn’t waste much more time under the water to fight the beast as he noticed your eyes had slipped shut and you weren’t releasing any more air bubbles. He surged upwards, his wing doing most of the work as he darted through the surface of the water and onto the solid ground near the same little girl you had saved before.

Lying you down on the ground gently, he lowered his head to your mouth to hear if you were breathing, cursing quietly when he realized you weren’t. It was at times like these that he thanked whatever deity existed that he allowed himself to be persuaded by his parents to be a lifeguard for a summer. That way, he learned and was certified in CPR.

Plugging your nose, he administered two breaths into your mouth before pressing his - now both fully human - hands to your chest. Just as he prepared for the first chest compression, you suddenly started coughing and turned onto your side as you continued to cough up the water from your lungs. He was so thankful there wasn’t enough water in your lungs that he would’ve had to break your ribs giving you CPR.

But he would choose broken ribs over a body that wasn’t breathing any day.

After coughing your lungs dry, you fell onto your back with your eyes closed as you took many deep breaths. Suddenly, you remembered the face you clearly remember saving you and shot up into a sitting position, your eyes wide and surprised. Your gaze immediately fell upon him.

Hyun-su.

You held your breath as your eyes met and you stared at each other for a few moments. Your hand hesitantly raised to reach out for him. His gaze didn’t stray from your own as you brought your hand to his face, a mix between a sigh and a sob leaving your throat as you felt the soft skin of his cheek touch your fingertips. He was wet and cold, but he was alive. A smile grew onto your face but it dropped just as Hyun-su’s began to form. You yanked your hand away as if his skin suddenly burned you, and it might as well have. You could see the hurt expression taking over his face but the feeling of the anger, betrayal, and grief flooding through your veins overpowered any feelings of remorse you might have felt. Taking a quick moment to look around for the child you saved, you let out a small sigh of relief when you saw her innocently watching the interaction between you and Hyun-su, breathing normally and sitting safe and sound on the grass.

“Take care of her for me, will you?” You asked him coldly, not waiting for an answer as you stood up and started speed walking in the opposite direction.

“No, wa- wait!” He scrambled to stand up, calling after you as you ignored his advances. “Stop!” He finally caught up to you and wrapped his hand around your bicep gently, turning you around to face him.

“What? What the fuck is so important that you finally feel the need to talk to me?” You let out a sob of a laugh as you ripped your arm away from him. You could slowly see the realization of why you were acting so angry and upset dawn on his face as guilt settled into his eyes. “You’ve gone this entire time being just fine as you save my life just to leave me there, alone, time and time again. So please - please - explain to me what is now so important you feel the need to reveal yourself to me.”

You looked at him expectantly as his mouth opened and closed, looking for an answer. He seemed to find it as he finally said, “I just… I really thought you died this time. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You looked at him, frustrated, for a moment before harshly scrubbing your palms over your eyes which were tearing up against your will. “So… what, after all the times you saved me, now you want to check on my safety?” Taking a deep breath, you forced your face to look calm, masking your anger for his sake so you could get out of this situation with as little hindrance as possible. You dropped your hands to your sides, your tears smeared across your face leaving it in a shiny glow. “Well thank you, Hyun-su, for your consideration,” you spoke the last word with bitterness lacing your tone that you could tell he caught as he winced softly. “But I am fine.”

You turned around, fully intent on heading back to the stadium when his hand wrapped around your bicep again. “What?” You asked angrily and turned around only to be pulled into a tight hug. You didn’t waste time in fighting his grip but he was relentless. “Let me go!” You screamed at him, although it was muffled by his shirt. “You’re such an asshole! I fucking mourned for you! I built a fucking memorial and brought a flower every single week without fail and yet you were never fucking dead! Why did you keep letting me think you were dead?” You were now pounding your fists into his chest, no longer resisting his embrace but expressing the built-up anger, sadness, grief, and self-loathing you felt every single day. It all stemmed solely from the way you hated yourself for not trying harder to save him. Not trying harder to resist Eun-hyuk when he told you and Eun-yu he would bring him back. “Was it you? Was it you every time I was stopped? Every time I was in danger, it was you who saved me, wasn’t it? What gave you the fucking right?” The crying started again. In turn, your hits became less and less powerful with each strike along with your screams gradually quieting. “Why did you have to leave me?” You sobbed out and let your head fall onto his chest as he buried his face in your hair. Your hands clutched onto his t-shirt as if trying to anchor him to you, scared that if you let him go, he would disappear again. Your knees gave out, exhausted by the emotional turmoil washing over you from the last five minutes. And so soon after death caressed you on the cheek too. Hyun-su caught you and slowly lowered the two of you to the ground, never once breaking the embrace.

You sat in silence, only broken by the sound of your sobs as they slowly subsided. When you settled down, you spoke once more.

“Did you know I was in love with you?” You didn’t feel any physical reaction from him that would express what he was feeling in that moment so you continued. “I never stopped. Loving you, I mean. I don’t think I ever will, but god, I hate you so much right now.”

There were a few silent beats where the only sound you could hear was the sound of his heartbeat against your ear until he spoke.

“I didn’t think I would be able to handle seeing you again and find you with this exact reaction. By the time I left the military’s grasp, I tried to find you but then I saw you on that ledge.”

It surprised you and calmed your nerves all the same.

“I knew I was just being a coward but I thought too much time had passed for me to just show up. Today was just a bit different.” He leaned back a bit to look at you and you did the same. He gave a small smile when he saw you again, with your wet eyes and glistening cheeks you looked wonderful. Even after sobbing your heart out, you were still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. “My love, I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you, and I never stopped either,” he leaned in slowly so your foreheads rested against each other and your noses brushed. “And if you need time to stop hating me, I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

You looked into his radiating brown eyes as the last tear slipped from your own before bringing a hand up to cup his cheek once again. You let out a small laugh which he returned with an adoring smile. Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his in a soft, unhurried kiss. He slid a hand up from where it was pulling you into his embrace to rest against the back of your neck as he held you against him. When the both of you were smiling too much to continue the kiss, you leaned back just enough to stare into each other’s eyes. The adoration and love you had for each other would be clear for anyone to see from the way you gazed at each other.

You suddenly pushed forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close and hugging him once more. He sat still for a moment as he processed what you did only to wrap his arms around your waist. He hugged you just as tight and with just as much desperation as you did.

“God, I missed you so much,” you whispered into his ear and he sighed shakily into the spot where his face was buried in your neck.

“I missed you too, so much. I’m so sorry for not coming back sooner.”

“Well, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters to me,” you reassured him and he physically relaxed, his shoulders untensing and him falling further into your embrace.

The sound of the soft pattering of footsteps interrupted the moment you two were sharing. However, it was entirely welcome when you saw the little girl you had saved before standing beside you. You pulled away from Hyun-su, but not too far as he grabbed onto one of your hands. You smiled at him slightly, he was obviously just as starved of your touch as you were his.

“Hi there,” you told her gently when you turned back to her, not wanting to scare her in any way. “What’s your name?”

She looked down shyly, not answering until Hyun-su reached out to her with his hand. “It’s okay, she’s a good one,” he reassured her as he brushed some stray wet strands of her pin-straight black hair out of her face when her small hands were unable to. He took her hand and gently pulled her closer to the two of you. It made you smile as you saw them interact. The caring and soft way Hyun-su acted with her reminded you so much of a father interacting with his daughter.

It just made you love him even more.

He gave her one more nod of reassurance before she timidly introduced herself.

“M-my name is Ah-yi,” she stuttered out and you silently cooed at her adorable little shy smile. “Thank you for saving me, Miss.”

“Of course, Ah-yi, you are very welcome,” you gave her your own smile and some of her shyness seemed to fade away. You then gave her your name and she visibly brightened up.

“You’re the princess!” You gave her a confused smile with a small laugh as she then began to explain. “Oppa’s told me stories about you! How you’re the princess of the big green castle and how he was a knight in shining armor who was saved by you, the warrior princess!” She talked animatedly with her hands swinging around wildly and her chest puffing out at the end to make her seem stronger. Your lips formed a big smile as you looked over at Hyun-su to see him lightly glaring at Ah-yi with a big blush coating his cheeks.

“Ah, so you’ve told stories about me, have you?” You teased him and he looked at you before rolling his eyes.

“Shut up,” he mumbled and you yelped as he yanked on your hand, sending you falling onto his chest with a loud laugh.

You talked a bit more with Ah-yi, somehow ending with her laying her head in your lap as you leaned against Hyun-su with your back to his chest. The three of you watched the clouds, pointing out any shapes you could find and making up stories that Ah-yi seemed to love. Every time you looked over at Hyun-su, you could see all of his attention focused on you and how you interacted with the small child.

Time seemed to fly as eventually, the sun started to fade into the distance, only leaving splotches of light shining through the leaves of the tall trees surrounding you. All three of you stood up and you glanced in the direction of the stadium with sad eyes. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Hyun-su yet. Even the thought of leaving the small girl you had grown strongly attached to in the past few hours broke your heart. Hyun-su seemed to sense your hesitation as he grabbed your hand.

You looked back at him and he looked at you so fondly you felt like your heart might burst. With his thumb gently caressing your knuckles, he looked you in the eyes and said, “Stay. Stay with me. With us. You don’t have to go yet.”

He seemed just as desperate to make up for lost time with you as you were with him. His eyes widened and that smile you loved so dearly formed on his face when you nodded with little thought put into the decision. Pulling you closer with his arm circling your shoulders and one of yours circling his waist while the other hand reached out for Ah-yi to grab. She practically leaped at the opportunity.

“You ready, princess?” Hyun-su asked you in a soft teasing voice and you looked up at him with the same passionate smile gracing your lips.

“Lead the way, my shining knight.”

~~~

Pt 2: Floating Above Those Dark Skies :)

512 notes · View notes

quiet-onset · 6 months

Text

fever pitch

pairing: michael berzatto x reader

wc: 12.1k+, somebody sedate me

summary: an assortment of your time with michael berzatto

warnings: no use of yn, smut, so minors dni!!!, unprotected sex, sex under the influence, by ext. dubcon since reader is unaware at the time, oral (f receiving), drug use and addiction (character and reader), canonical character death/suicide mention, pregnancy mention (sorry not sorry), please do not read if any of this is triggering for you!!

a/n: beta’d by @brattylyricist bc she has no other choice than to put up with my bs!! also bc the content matter here is triggering and i have personal experience seeing the damage that addiction can do to someone you love, I’m including national hotline phone numbers here. please don’t be afraid to seek help if you need it: national suicide prevention hotline: dial/text 988, substance abuse and mental health services administration: 1-800-662-HELP. again, please do not read this if any of the warnings are triggering for you!!!

The day went by in a blur. You got up, showered, did your hair and makeup. You ate the little breakfast you could stomach. You put on an acceptable black dress and matching high heels.

You drove to the church — tried to sit in the back, but Sugar pulled you to the front pew, right next to her. You stood behind the lectern and said kind, loving words. You drove to the cemetery and watched as his casket was lowered into the cold. And you went to the repass, doing your best to stay out of Donna’s way, knowing how she gets when she’s both sad and under pressure.

But you hadn’t cried.

You sat on the stairs with your wine glass filled with water as everyone mingled, exchanging condolences about your dearly departed. You let your heart ache as you downed the glass, stories of him being told by this person and that.

But you still hadn’t cried.

Donna burst out of the kitchen, her hair a bit disheveled and eyes red from crying. “Have you seen Carmy?”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh. It must have been the seventh time she had asked. “No, Donna, I have not seen Carmy.”

“What a fuckin’ help you are.” She snapped, pulling a box of cigarettes from her apron. With her other hand, she snatched your empty wine glass and turned on her heel. “I do all this work, and I can’t even go outside to smoke.”

You followed close behind, huffing as you stood. “I thought Sugar was with you.”

“Sugar is with her.” The middle child interrupted. She gave you a weak, empathetic smile when you entered the kitchen behind Donna. A wine glass of her own in hand as she sat on the kitchen counter, she sipped on red wine. “But Sugar can’t cook.”

“Not like Carmy, you can’t. Get your ass off my fuckin’ counter, shoo!” Donna swatted at her daughter’s thigh until she hopped off the counter, snatching her half full wine glass as well. She downed the wine in a couple seconds, and you and Sugar shot each other a look. It was passing, but you both understood the meaning — Donna needed a break.

“She doesn’t have to cook, Donna. Just watch everything. Keep an eye on it, y’know?” You tried to intervene but she was having none of it.

“I don’t need an eye. I need hands! I need someone who can cook!” Donna threw the glasses into the sink, and you flinched when they shattered against the metal. “Fuck!”

“I’ll do it, Donna.” From the shakiness in her hands, you know she’s so close to losing it. To taking everything in the kitchen and throwing it on the ground, at the wall, at whoever she deemed worthy of having something thrown at them. “I know I’m not Carmy, but I’m better than Sug.”

“Hey!” Sugar sounded defensive, but you and Donna barely paid her any mind.

“You can’t fuckin’ cook, Sugar, get over it.” Her mother snapped. “I’d normally have Mikey do it, but he—”

“Ma.” You gently placed your hands on Donna’s shoulders, and a bit of the tension fell from them. You hadn’t called her that in a long time — it no longer felt right — but doing so made her recall happier times. You looked her in the eye, reassured her. “You go outside and smoke. I’ll take over for a few minutes, okay?”

Her eye twitched ever so slightly, and she was still shaking, but you could tell it grounded her a bit. “If everything else goes to shit, make sure the fish is good, alright?”

“Save the fish. Got it.”

Donna nodded, pulling a cigarette out of the box. Then she finally walked toward the exit of the kitchen, twirling it in her hand. Just before she left, she glanced at you again, her voice shaky. “You.. you would’ve been good for him. If he’d let you.”

When Donna left, there were tears in your eyes. Sugar watched to see if you’d need comfort, especially after one of those tears fell from your eye. But you were quick to wipe it away, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You turned to Sugar, gesturing toward the sink filled with broken glass. “Could you…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She was quick to do so, grabbing a paper bag to put shards in. You both worked in a comfortable silence. The only sound was the clinking of glass against each other. Sugar battled over whether she wanted to speak, but she figured if she needed kind words, then you definitely did. “Ma’s right, y’know. Michael lo—”

“Sug. Please.”

“Okay.”

There was a pause as you stirred a pot of stew, then you sighed. “I know he did. As much as he could anyway.”

—

Michael met you on a sober streak. He’d been clean for three weeks, the longest stint thus far. When Richie found out about his addiction, he dragged Michael to Narcotics Anonymous. You’re gonna die cooking at the restaurant or doing something cool, not fuckin’ OD, Richie had sneered in the car.

He sat in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest, grumbling like a child. Despite being sober for three weeks, he maintained that he didn’t need to come to these meetings. To Michael, this was just proof that he could quit whenever he wanted to. Regardless, Richie drove him to every meeting and planned to do so until he seemed ready to go on his own.

The host of the meeting, Brayden, greeted Michael with a kind smile, but he responded with a grunt. For three weeks, Michael sat silently in that circle and said absolutely nothing. He wondered what it took to get the man to speak, but of course, he’d never pressure anyone to share before they were ready.

Then you walked in. You seemed a bit more put together than others in the room, but still a bit shy. An oversized sweater wrapped around your frame, and you pulled it even closer, eyes glancing around the room. You nodded a greeting to Brayden before sitting in the circle across from Michael. When you noticed him glancing your way, you offered a friendly smile, and he returned it.

He knew then that he’d return to his weekly NA meetings.

The session started shortly after, but Michael was only half listening. He was mostly glancing back and forth from whoever was speaking to you. He liked the way you gave your full attention to every person who spoke, even when they said things you didn’t agree with — he could tell when you didn’t, a little crease would form for the briefest moment between your brows. But it always disappeared, and your attentive expression returned.

“Alright, would anyone else like to speak? Someone new maybe?” Brayden asked, quickly glancing at Michael.

He’d never admit it, but his heart was pounding at the idea of airing out his dirty laundry to a group of strangers. He took a deep, nervous breath, but then another voice spoke up.

“I’ll go.” You said, watching the relief wash over Michael’s face. You cleared your throat, pulling your sweater closer as you introduced yourself. “I was in a car accident two years ago. It, uh, it killed my son… That plus divorce plus prescribed oxy apparently equals addiction.”

The slightly playful lilt in your tone made Michael chuckle quietly, though you both knew nothing was funny. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat. Still, you continued, “I’ve been sober for two months, but my son’s birthday is coming up in a few months, so I, uh, needed a meeting. But yeah, that’s my story.”

After the meeting, you stood by the snack table, nursing a cup of coffee. Michael approached cautiously as he poured his own coffee. “Can I ask what his name was?”

You looked up from your paper cup into warm brown eyes. “Sorry?”

“Your son?”

“Oh.” You paused, and your heart sank at the reminder that your baby was gone. “His name was Benson.”

He snorted into his coffee cup, trying to hide his quiet laugh by clearing his throat. You noticed the light in his eyes, and it inexplicably made a smile pull at your lips too. “Sorry.” He said. “Benson’s a great name.”

“It’s a dorky name. Dorky first name, anyways. It’s what his father wanted.” You confirmed with a chuckle. “But it was my son’s name. So I liked it.”

“Course.” He smiled at you kindly. He was charming, and you liked it. “I’m Michael, by the way.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand. You went against your better judgment and invited him to your place. You both spent all night wrapped in your sheets, in each other’s embrace. He left for work the next morning but not before getting your phone number.

You texted Michael and arranged to meet up again that night. Then, you called your sponsor.

That was the beginning of the end.

—

“Cousin, your girlfriend’s here!”

“Not his girlfriend, Richie.”

“Not yet.”

“Send her back!” Michael’s voice floated in from the back of the kitchen.

You sidestepped Richie and walked through the kitchen, saying your hellos to everyone. “Where’s he at?” You asked.

“The office.” Tina answered, lightly nudging you in his direction. “He’s not having the best day.”

You nodded your understanding and proceeded to the small office where Michael was leaning back in his chair, hand over his face as he spoke into his cell phone. “No, I just don’t understand why we keep talking about the same shit.”

You leaned against the doorframe, giving him a small smile. He gave you the tiniest acknowledgment, a small wave, before spinning around in the chair to face the wall. You scoffed jokingly, closing the door behind you, “Well, fuck me, I guess.”

“Carmy, you’re a big shot in some fancy, five-star, European restaurant, what the fuck do you wanna be here for?” He asked exasperatedly. There’s a short pause, mumbling from the other side of the phone before Mikey throws a hand in the air. “Five star, three star, who gives a shit? Look, Carmen, you’re doing big things, good things. Stay in Europe. I gotta go.”

When Michael hung up, a long, tired sigh racked his body. “This would be a perfect time for—”

“One month.” You interrupted. You knew all too well where his mind was headed. He was spiraling into that dark, secluded state of mind you’d found him in just a few weeks after you met. He’d relapsed after a particularly hard day at the restaurant, something about finances and paying back a loan that he refused to tell you more about. But you’d helped him then. Picked him up, dusted him off, and called his sponsor — Started him back on the path of sobriety again. If you could help it, he’d never reach that lonely place again.

“One month.” He repeated to himself. Then, he spun around. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You walked over to him, standing between his spread legs. He immediately rested his forehead on your belly, groaning when you carded a hand through his hair. Your other hand rubbed circles into his back, the tense muscles a sharp contrast to his soft black locks. “I take it that was your brother?”

He grunted affirmatively. “Keeps askin’ to work here.”

“At The Beef?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, isn’t he a professional chef? Why don’t you let him?”

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re supposed to be on my side.” He grumbled, pulling you down to sit on his thigh.

“I am on your side.” You chuckled. You took your thumb and rubbed gently at the spot between his eyes until the frustrated crease disappeared. “‘M just saying, he’s a trained chef, this is a restaurant. I don’t get what’s not adding up for you, baby.”

Michael sighed, looking up at you. He brushed a stray hair from your face and smiled up at you. You smiled back encouragingly, patiently waiting until he found the right words. “Carm doesn’t know.” He admitted.

“Carm doesn’t know…?”

“About the painkillers. And I don’t know if I’m ready to tell him.” His brow furrowed once more, making you frown. “I mean, he’s got three Michelin stars. The kid’s a fuckin’ genius in the kitchen — he doesn’t need to be around all this shit, all my shit.”

You let his words sink in, deep in thought as you stroked his hair. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you thought about all the stories Mikey and Richie told you about the youngest Berzatto. How he could be quiet and unassuming, but, with a little encouragement, always came out of his shell around family and friends. Maybe, for Carmen, it wasn’t about the restaurant.

“Maybe he just wants to see you.” You said pensively. “I mean it’s been how long since he’s been home?”

A scoff passed Michael’s lips. “A long fuckin’ time.”

“Maybe the restaurant is a pretense. I mean, he would come work at The Beef and stuff, but maybe he just wants to see you again. Hang out with his big brother like he used to.”

His thumb stroked your thigh as he looked at you, silently admired the way you seem to come in and make all his problems melt away with a single thought, a word, a smile. “What about the whole bein’ an addict part?” He asked.

“You don’t have to tell him right away.” You suggested. “Baby steps.”

“You are too fuckin’ good to me, y’know that?” He grinned back at you. When you rolled your eyes playfully, he pinched your side, making you jolt and laugh.

You pulled his arm around your waist, settling your hands at the nape of his neck. “So, you’re letting your brother work at the restaurant?”

“How ‘bout we just start with a visit, hm? I’ll tell him to come home for a week or somethin’, stay at mine.” He compromised. “Baby steps.”

“Oh, I’m so proud of you.” You cooed playfully, pinching his stubbly cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He swatted your hands away, leaning forward to press wet kisses to the column of your neck. He smirked as you suddenly ceased your pinching, bracing your hands on his shoulders. “You should let me return the favor, sweetheart.”

“Not in your office!” You gasped when he bit down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder before soothing it with his tongue.

“Why not?” He chuckled, lifting you onto his desk. He probably should have been a little more worried about his records and papers getting folded under the swell of your ass, but all he could focus on was the small strip of fabric covering the part of you he wanted to devour. “Wouldn’t you prefer I be addicted to my girl than painkillers?”

“That’s not, ah,” You jolted above him, the sensation of his thumb pressing into your sensitive clit knocking you back to your elbows, “That’s not funny, Mikey.”

“What’s Brayden say?” He muttered, pulling your panties to the side. His fingers expertly tugs your lips apart, and he pressed a soft teasing kiss to your hood-covered button. “Humor’s my coping mechanic.”

“M-mechanism.” The correction came out in a soft moan. Just then, his words hit you — his girl. He’d never said that before. All the times you’d kissed, made out, had sex, he’d never called you his girl. You liked the way it sounded, the way it rolled off his tongue effortlessly. “Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He pulled away, his hands finding your calves as he looked at you. His brown irises held the tiniest bit of vulnerability in them, an emotion reserved for you and you only. “I mean, if you wanna be. Do you?”

You smiled and encircled his wrists, tenderly stroking his skin with your thumbs. It was a simple touch, but it made the hairs on his arm stand at attention. Strange how you always managed to do that. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” He exhaled. His large hands slid up your inner thighs, pausing at your core. With a gentle touch, he tugged your folds apart, watching the way your entrance fluttered. His mouth dropped open, and he let his saliva drip down onto your pussy, rubbing it into your clit with the pad of his thumb. “Now, get comfy, sweetheart, ‘cause I missed this pretty little pussy.”

—

“Where is it? Where is it? Where the fuck is it?”

You’d torn your apartment apart. Old storage boxes that gathered dust were now open and emptied. Your clothes were thrown all over the place. You managed to push the couch and check the floor, but you found nothing but crumbs and linty hair ties.

Tears started to blur your vision, and your chest felt heavy, like the entire world sat directly on your lungs. Your breath was just as shaky as your hands that tugged at the roots of your hair. You ran to your mess of a kitchen and scrambled for your phone, typing the familiar number from memory.

Your ex-husband answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Where’s Eli?” You heard him call your name, but his confusion was the last thing on your mind. “Benson’s stuffed cow, Eli. Where is it? I can’t find it.”

He sighed, his voice lower and more scratchy than you remembered. He must’ve been crying, too, you thought. “How am I supposed to know?”

“You helped me move out. Did you take it? I swear to god—”

“I didn’t take the damn cow.” He snapped. “Do you think I’m that selfish that I would keep it from you?”

“I didn’t call to rehash our marriage, alright? I need Eli, okay? I need him.”

The line went silent. You both knew you weren’t talking about the stuffed animal anymore. He let out a deep breath. “Have you tried therapy?”

“I don’t need to pay a bunch of money to have someone tell me I need to get over the death of our child.” You hissed, scrunching your nose at the suggestion.

“Have you been to his grave?”

You wiped your tears away, thinking about the cold, unfeeling stone that solidified your son’s death. You hadn’t seen it since the funeral. You took a shaky breath, “Do you have Eli or not?”

“I don’t.”

He tried to speak once more, but you already hung up. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe without this one piece of your son. Tears dropped onto your phone screen as you scrolled and scrolled through your contacts, finding the name you were looking for. The line rang three times before a deep voice greeted you. “What’s up?”

“I need to see you. Where can we meet?”

Hours later, Michael was walking toward his apartment building with Carmy. He’d been purposefully avoiding bringing up The Beef, and luckily Carmy didn’t push. Instead, his little brother decided to bring up the little stuffed animal that Michael had pushed into his jacket pocket. “So,” Carmy started quietly, “You startin’ a collection with that thing or…?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael laughed. He pulled the stuffed cow out of his pocket. “It’s my girl’s. Remember I told you about her son?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes she likes to talk to me about him. She brought this over to my place a few weeks ago to show me. Apparently, the kid was obsessed with cows.”

“No shit. Look at you, bein’ vulnerable.” Carmy chuckled in amazement, admiring his brother’s new relationship.

“Yeah, whatever. The, uh, anniversary of his death is coming up, and she’ll probably be wanting this, so you can meet her while you’re here if she’s feeling up to it. Sound good?”

“‘F course.”

When Michael unlocked the front door, he was met with chaos. The front door banged into the coat closet door, somehow left open with coats strewn across the floor. The rug in his living room was flipped over, and the couch was now far from the wall. Michael was only brought back to reality by the stunned woah that passed through Carmy’s lips.

Somehow, Michael knew. He wasn’t a mind reader, but he remembered that feeling. A feeling that bubbled in the pit of his stomach, traveling throughout his body until it pounded at his head. It was dread, hopelessness, not knowing how he’d find the strength to take another breath. He knew, and he needed to help you.

“Di-Did someone break into your house or something?” Carmy asked, closing the door behind him.

“Just stay here for a second, little brother, okay?” Michael’s voice was dismissive, preoccupied, as he followed the trail of despair into the kitchen.

And there you sat. Red eyes, swollen from crying. Head lulling from side to side and your heart almost numb enough to keep the darkness from creeping in and making a home, uninvited, in the hole of your chest. Your arms circled around your knees that you’d drawn up to your chest, hugging them close. Maybe, if you squeezed hard enough, you could stop grieving and move on.

Michael approached slowly, like you were a wounded animal. “Baby?”

“I couldn’t stop myself.”

“We don’t have to—”

“Please don’t hate me.”

He crouched down in front of you, steadied your head with a firm hand on your cheek. His warm, calloused skin helped to ground the thoughts in your fuzzy head. He looked you in the eyes, bold and sincere, just as you had when he relapsed. “I could never hate you. Never, you hear me?”

You paused for a moment before trying to explain. “I couldn’t find Eli, and I just- I started going fucking crazy—”

“Eli?” He asked, pulling the stuffed cow from his pocket. “Sweetheart, I have Eli. You left him the time you came over a couple weeks ago, and I was gonna take him back to yours.”

Michael thought the knowledge would console you, warm your heart enough to give him just the tiniest hint of a smile. But you just threw your head back frustratedly, the impact against the wall causing a dull pain to crash through the back of your skull. “Fuck.”

“Baby, why—”

“I’m so stupid.”

“You’re no—”

Tears gathered once more. “If I had just called you… I’m an idiot.”

“Hey,” He regained your attention, this time with both hands holding your face steady. “You’re not stupid. You’re not an idiot. You just made a mistake, ‘s all.”

“I fucking relapsed, Michael.”

“I’ve relapsed, and look at me, huh? Picture of a healthy, law-abiding citizen.”

“Michael.”

“You’ll start over. Just like I did. Here, give me your phone.” You dug around in your pocket and pulled out your phone, handing it to him. He turned the screen toward you so you could watch as he scrolled through your contacts until he found your dealer’s name. Then, with zero hesitation, he blocked the number. “See? Good as new, yeah?”

If tears could show your appreciation, you’d have cried an ocean’s worth. But the most you could do was throw your heavy arms around his shoulders and press a chaste kiss to the base of his neck. To you, nothing you could ever do or say would be enough, but to Mikey? If he could take your burdens and make them his own, carry the weight of your world on his back, he’d do it without a second thought. Your appreciation wasn’t needed — only your love. And he knew he had that.

“Uh, Mikey?” Carmen’s voice called from the living room. “What the fuck is this?”

Michael reluctantly untangled himself from you for a moment, signaling for you to stay quiet. But you knew what was in there — you’d left the needle on his coffee table. Immediately, you could hear Mikey try to calm his brother down. “Carmen, it’s not what you think.”

“You sure? ‘Cause that looks like a fuckin’ needle. Jesus Christ, are you—”

“I’m not high, Carm, just listen for a second.”

“Listen to what?” His voice got louder, more angry. “Michael, are you fuckin’ serious? You know this family has… issues and this is what you do? Fucking shit!”

“Hey, relax, alright? You’re making a big deal out of nothin’.”

“Nothing? If you’re getting high, it is a big deal. A huge fuckin’ deal.” Carm pushed his brother on the chest, hoping it’ll knock some sense into him. And Michael, he just curled his fists, restraining himself. The last thing he wanted was to lose control on his own brother. Carmen took a step toward, pointing one accusatory finger.

But before he could get a word out, a small voice, your voice, stopped him. “It’s not his.”

Icy blue eyes met yours as he took in your disheveled frame. You stood in the entrance of the living room, leaning against the threshold to hold yourself up. The high was starting to wear off a little, but you still felt the lingering effects. You tried to give him a smile, but a weary sigh passed through your lips. “Hi Carmen. I’m sorry, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

Carmen looked back and forth from you to Michael. His eyes narrowed as his breath started to even out, confusion replacing anger. “You’re the girlfriend, yeah?” He finally asked, confirming your name.

You nodded, gauging his reaction as he let it all sink in. “I had been sober for a while, so I asked your brother not to say anything. But today was- today was hard.”

“Right,” The younger brother nodded, finally taking a step back and pushing his hands deep into his pockets. “Uh, sorry for your loss, by the way.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“So, Michael isn’t… he’s not using…?” He knew the words, knew the question he wanted to ask. But he was so afraid, so terrified of what the answer might be.

You knew the answer. It would have been less than savory, admitting that Michael was also an addict and had relapsed more than once since you met. The truth was potentially earth-shattering for Carmen and Michael alike. You glanced over at Michael, at how he hid the fear from his eyes. Still, you see it. In the way his hand flexed at his side, and how he refused to look in your direction. It’s almost like he knew what was coming if you told the truth, that he might have lost his brother for good.

That fear broke your heart. So, you lied. Took your blame and a little on the side. “No. No, just me.”

You excused yourself back to the kitchen to hide your tears. You hugged Eli close, burying the stuffed animal under your nose.

It smelled like Michael.

—

That fucking fork.

Fuck forks. Fuck Christmas dinner. Fuck all seven fishes. Fuck Pete’s eighth fish. And, above all, fuck Michael.

Chaos ensued after Michael gave in to his self-destructive tendencies. He all but flipped the table over in an effort to fight. Fak was making sure Sugar and Pete got out unscathed. Carmy practically begged his mother to stay out of it, and she only relented when her eldest son started making taunting braying noises — she retreated to the kitchen with a cigarette and the bottle of merlot in hand.

You gave up trying to help Michael calm down when he wretched himself from your grip, nearly knocking you into a wall in the process. Richie rushed over to help steady you, and Carmy, over all the chaos, called your name, “Yo, are you alright?”

“Peachy.” You called back sarcastically, rubbing your sore arm.

Carmen then turned his attention to his brother. “Michael, shut the fuck up for two seconds, for fuck’s sake! If you don’t calm down, you’re gonna hurt someone!”

“Kinda the point, little brother.” Michael’s eye twitched as he glared at Lee. He tried once more to push past Jimmy to no avail.

“Yeah? Was hurting your girl part of the point, smartass?”

Michael turned to you, the anger in his eyes slowly overtaken with concern. He hadn’t meant to push you; he didn’t even know you were one of the people trying to hold him back. But that didn’t take back his actions. Your gaze went cold as you pulled away from Richie, pushing Michael hard on the chest. “I’m not his fucking girl anymore.”

Then, you hightailed it out of the house. Everyone went silent as you peeled out of the driveway, rubber squealing against pavement.

Richie watched Michael carefully, noticing how his brow furrowed and his chest heaved. He took a step toward him and dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Mikey,” Richie warned, “Don’t do anything stupid.” Michael pulled away and stomped his way up the stairs, leaving Richie to call after his best friend from the dining room.

Over Richie’s voice, Carmen could hear his mother sobbing in the kitchen followed by the soft glug of wine as she turned the bottle up. And immediately, he followed after his older brother. Richie tried to stop him, “Cousin, he just needs a minute.”

“Yeah, just a minute?” Carmen replied dismissively. “Fuck off, cousin, he’s not a baby.”

He pushed open every door looking for Mikey. Finally, he came upon one door that wouldn’t budge, locked from the inside. Carmy pounded on the bathroom door. “Yo, what the fuck was that?”

“Go away, Carmen.” Mikey paced the bathroom floor, hands pulling at the roots of his hair. He wished he had an answer for his brother, but he came up short. Maybe it was pride, or ego, or his innate tendency to self-destruct, he couldn’t choose. So he just paced the floor, avoiding the sight of his own reflection.

“Mikey, you need to go downstairs and fix this shit, alright?” Carmy continued. “Ma’s drinking herself stupid, Sug’s a mess, your girl just fuckin’ left, c’mon man.”

“Hey, you think I don’t know that?” The older brother hissed.

He braced himself on the sink, finally looking up into the mirror. He looked disheveled, angry. His hair was messy from pulling at it, and the whites of his eyes had a red tint to them. One prominent vein pulsed in his forehead, and suddenly, the need set in.

His head is fuzzy, brain pounding at his skull. So many thoughts, too many, clouding his head. He lifted his hand to push away a few strands of his hair, limp with sweat, and he realized that his hand was shaking. Even as he closed his fingers into a fist, it trembled like an earthquake. He blinked hard, eyes scrambling as he tried to think of a quick solution, a way to gather himself before he faced his little brother again.

Carmy was quiet as he started to think maybe he should have listened to Richie. “Mikey?”

No answer.

“Mikey, look, I’m sorry—”

The door flung open, and Carmy studied him. His hair was pushed back. His eyes were red, but Carmy assumed Mikey must’ve been crying. Everything seemed right, but there was something he couldn’t place. Something about his big brother that was very wrong. “Nothing to be sorry for, Carm.” Michael told him, one big hand on his shoulder. “I gotta go.”

When Michael started booking it downstairs, Carmy was quick on his trail. “Wait, go? Go where?”

Michael responded with a call of your name, “Gotta make sure she’s good.”

Carmy ran a hand through his golden brown locks as he followed his older brother out the front door. Their sister noticed the argument and followed them out the door, “Whoa, hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, Sug, go back inside.” Michael stopped for the briefest moment to turn around and place a kiss on his sister’s forehead.

“He’s leavin’.” Carmy sighed frustratedly.

“He’s leaving?” Sugar turned to Michael. “You’re leaving?”

“Fuckin’ snitch.” Michael mumbled under his breath. He squeezed Sug’s arm with a tight smile, “I’m just goin’ to find my girl, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

“How are you even going to find her?” Carm scoffed.

“You know her password, right?” Sug asked her eldest brother. “I wouldn’t normally say this, but you could track her phone. Here, give me yours.”

“What about Ma?” Carmy threw his arms up in defeat. Michael was the one who started all that mess, and now that it was time to pick up the pieces, where did he go? Chasing you. Like always, Carm thought to himself. “You’re the only one who can get through to her when she’s all…” He waved his hands around as if the devastating words he was looking for would magically appear.

“Well, you’re home, ain’t you? She missed you — just sit with her till I get back, alright? I gotta go.”

And just as quickly Mikey was off too, running toward the closest train station.

If there were ever a time for oxy, that would’ve been it. But instead, you drove and drove and drove until the tank was damn near empty. You pulled into a parking lot and called your sponsor. She talked you down, persuading you to delete your dealer’s contact information in your phone. When the long conversation was over, you were still angry, furious even, but you’d at least lost interest in relapsing.

Knock knock knock.

You jumped in the driver’s seat when calloused knuckles tapped on the car window. Michael wasted no time in starting an argument. “What the hell were you thinkin’, leavin’ like that?” He yelled, voice only slightly muffled by the barrier.

“How did you even find me?”

“Sugar showed me how to track your phone.”

“You tracked my phone?”

“Open the fuckin’ door.”

You pushed the door open and got out of the car, deciding your best course of action would be to walk away from him. “Leave me alone, Michael.”

“Where are you goin’?” He was quick to follow you as you walked down the street, just a few strides behind.

“Leave me alone.”

“What’s the plan here, huh?” He asked. “You just gonna keep walkin’ till your feet fall off?”

“No, just till I’m away from you, Michael.” You retorted coldly.

“Hey, stop calling me that.”

“That’s your name!”

“Not to you! To you it’s Mikey, or baby, or my love, not fuckin’ Michael!”

“Fuck you, Michael!” You caught him off guard when you spun around, poking your index finger into his chest. “You couldn’t just let it be. You had to ruin Christmas for the whole fucking family!”

“Why do you care so much, huh?”

“Why do I— Jesus, do you even hear yourself? You do nothing but ruin shit for yourself for no goddamn reason! No one forced you to throw that fork!”

Michael scoffed and ran his hand over his lips, his warm breath evaporating into the cold air as he raised his voice again. “So we’re gonna pretend that’s why you’re upset? Because of the fork?”

“I’m upset because you ruined any chance at having a good Christmas with our family!”

“They’re not our fuckin’ family.” He laughed, though no traces of humor could be found in his eyes. “They’re mine! Okay? I’m the fuckin’ Berzatto, not you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. You parted your lips to retort, but he just kept going, slicing your heart in two with expert precision.

“You wanna act like the- the chaos bothers you, but you thrive on that shit — You’re just in a shitty mood because you miss your own family, and now that you can’t replace them with mine, you want some fuckin’ oxy to ease the pain, ain’t that right?”

Smack!

You’d never hit Michael before, never wanted to. Like any couple, you had your share of fights and passive aggressive comments. One thing you two never did, though, was weaponize your addictions against each other. It was an unsaid invisible line that had never been crossed until now. Michael Berzatto, the man you loved more than life itself, had never been so mean. At least not to you.

It happened faster than you expected, your small hand reaching up and slapping across his stubbly cheek. He just stood there, eyes dark and slightly angry, but you weren’t afraid. You were furious, hot tears filling your eyes. “Fuck you.”

You slapped him again. And again. Then, you beat on his chest with your fists. Michael started trying to swat your hands away, but when that proved ineffective, he caught your wrists in his hands, yanking you into a nearby alley, away from the night’s few prying eyes.

“Stop, stop.” He grunted when you landed another smack to his head, finally pinning you up against the nearby brick wall by your wrists. “Stop.”

“I hate you.” You spat.

“No, you don’t.”

You continued to fight against his grip, but he was strong and steady, keeping you in place as you continued to tell him how much you despise him. He knew he was wrong, but he refused to say it. After all the shit that went down that night with his family, with you, he felt like he was going crazy. It was like he was abandoned in the middle of the ocean in a boat with a tiny hole. And even though the hole was small, it was so methodically cut that water was pouring in like a faucet, and the boat was sinking. So he grabbed onto the only lifeline he was certain would be there: you.

You, with the most beautiful eyes that were now filled with angry tears. You, the hero of all his dreams and the victim in all his nightmares. You, whose heart was so broken, so crumbled when he met you, yet still managed to love him with all your being.

He loved you.

It all hit him at once, and he gently pressed his lips to yours. You turned your head away from him, rasping out your hatred once more. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.” His voice was deep and rough, but the tone was soft. Was he even talking to you?

“Yes, I fucking do.”

His lips trailed across your jawline, wet kisses placed on his path. “No, you don’t.”

You hated how easily he was able to do this to you, like pushing a button. You were supposed to be angry with him. You were angry with him. But your body didn’t care about the argument. Your body slowly gave up the fight against his grip, wanting the heat that his touch produced, your emotions be damned. A few tears fell from your eyes just as a soft moan slipped past your lips, an instinctive response to the way Michael’s body pressed yours against the wall, his growing length pressed into your hip.

He slipped a leg between yours, pushing his denim-covered thigh into your pussy. You could feel a wave of arousal soaking your panties. “You’re mean, Michael.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He admitted quietly.

He used his grip on your wrists to gently pull your hands to your breasts. He pressed your hands in before covering them with his own, helping you knead the sensitive flesh. Even beneath your layers, you could feel his touch, and it made you whimper. His deft thumb ran over your hardening nipples, and a soft groan tumbled from his lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you noted his acknowledgement. And his lack of apology.

He kept up his movements, moving your hands to squeeze your breasts, pressing his thigh into your weeping pussy. Somewhere along the way, your hips began to rock back and forth on him. His brown eyes never left yours, even as you cried. It was strange, how your heart hurt so badly that tears fell freely down your face, but your body was pushed closer and closer to the edge.

Still, you gasped for breath as the pleasure began to creep out of your core. “Mi- Mikey,” You moaned. “Please!”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. Let it all out.”

And it all came out at once, sobs pushing past your lips as euphoria crashed over your body in waves. You clenched around nothing, head tipping back to hit the brick wall. But you never felt the cold brick — one of Michael’s hands left your breast to cup the back of your head, the protective gesture juxtaposing the unending push of his thigh into your pussy to help ride out your orgasm.

Even as your orgasm faded away, your hips continued to buck against him. Your hands found a new home on his broad chest, trailing down, down, down until you felt the leather of his brown belt. You wasted no time in unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, sliding the zipper down so you could easily reach into his briefs and pull his cock out. He moaned at your firm grasp, hips bucking into your touch.

Everything moved much quicker now, more desperate than before. You stroked his cock, spreading his precum along the shaft. His forehead pressed against yours as he stared at the way your smaller hand worked him over, twisting over the head on every downward stroke. “Fuck, that’s good.” He groaned.

“Help me.” You whined needily as you thrust your hips against his thigh once more, hoping he’d get the message.

He nodded quickly, kneeling down in front of you. His big hands slide up your thighs under your jean skirt, flipping the rough fabric up over your belly. Your legs were covered by sheer black stockings, a layer of protection from the cold winter chill. But neither of you could bear to wait, to take them off properly. He tore a large hole in the crotch and pushed your panties to the side, muttering curses at how your arousal shone in the moonlight.

“Perfect fuckin’ cunt, sweetheart.” He pushed his index finger through your swollen lips, collecting your juices before slipping into your twitching hole. “Can you take two for me?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He pushed his middle finger in on the second thrust, curving them to press on that spongy spot on your upper wall that you can never reach yourself. You cried out his name, and your back arched off the wall. His fingers were bigger than yours, thicker too, but they still didn’t fill you the way that you needed.

You whimpered when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking firm and hard. “Want your cock, Mikey. Want- oh shit!”

Your orgasm was hard and unexpected, pulling you under before you could even tell him to fuck you. Your legs buckled, and you buried your hands in his thick, black hair to ground yourself. A muffled moan came from between your legs when you tugged on the roots, trying to pull him off your sensitive clit.

He finally relented, pulling away from you and pushing his fingers, soaked in you, into his mouth. He licked them clean without hesitation, only stopping when you tugged on his wrist. You pulled him in by his shirt, kissing him. It was deep and passionate, proving what you both knew to be true.

You didn’t hate him. Maybe you wanted to, but you didn’t. Or maybe couldn’t is the better word.

He cupped your face with both his large hands, wiping away any remnants of tears from your earlier sobs. His tongue licked into your mouth as you moaned, tasting the sweet tang of your juices in his saliva. You reached down to stroke his cock again, and he crowded you closer to the wall. “Want you inside.” You whispered.

“I know, baby.”

His open jeans impeded his efforts to get closer to you, buttons, zipper, and belt now in the way. His hands hurried to push the waistband of his open jeans down and out, ignoring how the frosty air raised goosebumps on his skin. His belt buckle jingled loudly, and something clattered to the pavement, but you could only focus on getting him inside you. His hands returned to your face, making you keep your gaze on his.

You pushed his cock through your pussy lips, let your arousal messily coat his shaft until it was all over your inner thighs. Both your panting was the only thing you could hear over the wet sounds of his length sliding between your swollen lips. You whined when the head of his dick bumped against your clit.

“Guide me in, sweetheart.” He told you, eyes locked on yours. “Take what you want.”

His head, already weeping with precum, nudged at your entrance, and you canted your hips up until the first few inches sunk inside. You lifted your leg around his hip in an attempt to take more of him, but it wasn’t enough on your own. Finally, he pressed forward, fully sheathing his cock within your soft walls. All the while, Michael held your face between his hands, gazing deep into your eyes as you whimpered. “There you are.” He groaned softly. “My girl.”

Your heart twisted at his words. How could he even say that? After saying the most vile things to you, what made him believe that you’d still be his? He nudged his hips forward a bit, and the tip just barely kissed your cervix, shooting a strange blend of pain and pleasure up your spine. You shook your head, hands grasping at his arms to steady yourself. “No, I… I- fuck, Mikey, I hate you so much.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” You moaned pathetically, still seething, angry enough to lie through your teeth just to give him a glimpse of the pain he caused you. Your nails dug into the thick fabric of his coat as he began to move, thrusting in and out of your cunt. The alley practically echoed with squelching sounds, and anyone walking by would know what was going on in those shadows. But neither of you could bring yourselves to care, lips falling apart as your sensitive walls clamped down on his length.

“You don’t fuckin’ say that to me.” He repeated with a grunt, leaving the tiniest pat on your cheek to regain the attention of your eyes rolling in pleasure. “You love me. Know you do. ‘S — shit, you’re so tight — ‘s the only thing I’m goddamn sure of, you hear me?”

One hand left your cheek to wrap around your thigh, pulling your leg higher around his hip. He thrusted again with renewed strength before looking down to where you both connected. The sight made the pit of his stomach flip deliciously: the slightly tanned base of his cock coated with a creamy white ring, little strands of your wetness dangling between you both when he dared to pull his hips away. “Fuckin’ takin’ my dick so well, baby.” He bit his lip, his voice sounding almost entranced. “Squeezin’ like you don’t want me to leave.”

“Good thing I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He continued, groaning when your hands slid up his back and into his hair. You pulled hard, and his thrusts faltered ever so slightly. His other hand left your cheek to brace himself against the wall, and his head fell into the crook of your neck, puffs of his hot breath warming your skin.

“You can’t keep doing this shit, M-Mikey. Can’t take your shit out on me.” You mewled as he adjusted his grip on you, pushing you closer to the wall. He left you no space to squirm when his hips started to move faster, his cock bullying its way in and out of your soft, puffy folds to nudge against the spongy spot on your upper wall. You cried out as that unique sensation shot pleasure to every nerve ending in your body, “Fuck, right there!”

“I got you, sweetheart, that’s it.” He responded in kind, adjusting his stance just right so he could drag the notch of his cockhead along your G-spot with every thrust. “Right there, yeah?”

“Oh my god, don’t stop. You’re gonna make me come!”

Michael lifted his head from your neck, meeting your eyes again. They were dark, glazed over, as he slowed his hips, still moving but not enough to finish you off. You felt his cock twitch inside you, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he flooded your insides with his release, but he wanted to hear you say it: he wanted you to take back your words. “Say you don’t mean it.”

Your pussy fluttered around him in tandem with the whine spilling past your lips. “Mikey—”

“You don’t hate me. You love me. Say it.” He punctuated each sentence with a nudge against your G-spot, soft and tempting.

“N-no, you,” You heaved out a shuddering breath when his fingertips met your swollen clit, rubbing in tight, slow, torturous circles. “You’re being unfair. You- oh my god, yes - you can’t be n-nasty to me and—”

“Just say it for me, baby.” He mumbled against your lips. He was practically begging you to take it back, but, of course, Michael Berzatto would never stoop to such lengths. So, he kept rubbing your clit and nudging your G-spot, punching the breath out of you with his thick cock. “Promise I’ll make you come. I’ll make it so fuckin’ good for you. Just need to hear it.”

And, of course, as you always did, you gave in. “I didn’t mean it.” You admitted breathlessly. “I love you.”

The tension visibly rolled off his shoulders as his head dropped to your breasts, pounding your cunt as you moaned beneath him. “Fuck, I love you, too, baby. Love you so fuckin’ much, it hurts.” He groaned into your skin.

“Mikey, ‘m close!” You gasped, the assault on your cunt and clit too much to bear.

“Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, sweetheart.” He huffed, nails digging into your thighs, your stockings providing no refuge from the dull pain. “Show me how much you love me, c’mon.”

And then, white-hot, earth-shattering pleasure. You nearly blacked out as you clenched around him, stars burning into supernovas behind your eyelids. Your fluttering walls begged him to stay buried deep inside you. Back arched against the wall, your breasts pushed closer to his face, and he didn’t bother lifting up, resting his cheek on the soft fabric that covered your warm flesh as he fell over the edge with you. He groaned out your name as he shot thick spurts of his warm, sticky come inside you. He knew he’d never come so much in his life, only lifting his head when he heard louder squelching noises from where you both connected.

As he thrusted, slow and deep, the white creamy juices that once only circled the base of his cock dribbled out of your pussy, around the sides of his length. A bit slid down your thigh, and his eyes rolled back, reveling in how his balls pulsed with pleasure at the sight.

His whole body relaxed as you both rode out the waves of pleasure. As you came down from your orgasm, your head lolled to the side. Your eyes fluttered closed as you cherished his weight on top of you. When your eyes opened, your vision was still a tad blurry, but you blinked through the fog.

There was something bright on the ground. It was small, cylindrical, and… red? No — it was orange.

“What’s that?”

Michael hummed in response, his speech a bit slurred. “What’s what?”

He lifted his head from your breasts, following your gaze. And he froze, eyes stuck on the tiny bottle of painkillers he’d swiped from his mother’s medicine cabinet after you left. It must have fallen from his pocket when he opened his jeans.

“Are you high right now?”

Michael almost cringed at your whisper. It was different from all your yelling and slapping and arguing before. You were just mad then, and he knew that he could win you over like he had a million times before. This time, it was sad. Cold. Disappointed.

He wasn’t sure if he could come back from that.

You wriggled beneath him until you could push him away, watching him stumble a bit. He was no longer standing tall, a bit slouched, and he swayed aimlessly from side to side. With the way he was fucking you, his blood was pumping, so they must just now be kicking in at full force. You knew — you were certain of the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Michael. Are you high?”

He had just enough of his wits left to take a step toward you with remorse in his voice, “Baby, I—”

You held up a hand, taking a step away from him. “I… I’ll call Richie. You can stay with him tonight. Or your mother, I don’t….” He called your name again as you fixed your panties and pulled your skirt back down over your ass. “I can’t do this with you right now, Michael.”

You waited for a moment. For what, you weren’t sure. An apology? An explanation? An unremorseful tirade? Part of you would have even been okay with a fight.

But he just leaned against the brick wall, unable to support himself on his own any longer. He clumsily tucked his softening length back into his pants and mumbled his short reply, a correction. “‘S Mikey.”

Snow began to fall in time with your tears. You drew your coat closer, and turned your back to him. “I’m going home.”

—

“Besides work, how’ve you been feeling?”

“I don’t know, just extremely tired all the time. But what else is new, y’know?”

“And how’s your love life?”

“This is your way of asking if I’m still sleeping with Michael.”

“Well, are you?”

You let out a scoff as you adjusted your position on the couch. Your therapist, Deborah, watched you with knowing eyes as you sat against the arm of the couch, offhandedly pulling a throw pillow into your lap. Your index finger wrapped endlessly around the fringe as you carefully mulled over your words. “Well, I haven’t relapsed in almost a year and a half.”

“That’s good.” She smiled. “Also not what I asked.”

“Okay, I’m still seeing him. Or, sleeping with him.”

“So, it’s not a relationship?”

“No.”

“Do you want it to be?”

You paused. You thought about the possibilities of what could have been — of what once had been. Dates, family dinners, shared apartment. Maybe you’d have gotten married and had kids. You’d have brought them up to be better, to break the cycle of whatever crazy shit made you both the way you were. But you also had to accept who he was.

You replied, “No.” It was a lie, and Deborah knew that, but you played it off anyway.

She leaned forward, setting her notepad down and resting her elbows on her knees. “Is he still using?”

You nodded reluctantly, “He says he’s not. And he hasn't been high around me since the, uh, Christmas dinner thing last year. But I’ve seen it… pill bottles lying around. Prescriptions that aren’t his.”

You trail off, once again running through what might have been. Would Michael still be sober if you stayed with him? Were you the only thing keeping him from losing his mind? Were you to blame? Your finger slowed around the fringe, heart aching in your chest.

Deborah gave you a cautionary look, like she could read your mind. “Stop it.”

You sighed, “But what if—”

“Michael is a grown man. His sobriety is his responsibility, and his alone. Just like yours.” She repeated the same words that she did almost every session, reminding you that you were not at fault. “I know it hurts, and it’s okay to let it, but you cannot blame yourself for his decisions.”

“I just- I miss him. How he used to be. But if this is all I can get…” You feel pathetic for even admitting it, but it was the truth.

Deborah watched you carefully, knowing that there wasn’t much she could do but advise you. You were going to see Michael whether it was a good idea or not. So she figured you should know what you’re really getting into. She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “Do you know what codependency is?”

Your brow furrowed, “No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“It’s when two people depend on each other in an unhealthy way. Usually, one person learns to placate the other, keep them calm, while the other person continues unhealthy behaviors because they know their partner will be there to help them when it gets too bad.”

“Okay, I see where you’re going here. It’s not healthy for me—”

“It’s not healthy for either of you.” She clarified. “I know you love Michael. And I’m sure he loves you as much as he can. But I think the best way for you to help him and yourself — if that’s what you want to do — is to stop enabling him.”

Stop enabling him.

That’s all you could think about for the rest of the session. Those three words terrified you. How would he react if you put your foot down, if you said this needed to stop? What if he never spoke to you again? You loved him, the man that put your heart back together when it was in a million shattered pieces. You were lost, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Twenty minutes later, when you left your therapist’s office, your phone dinged with a text. It was Michael, as usual;

u busy tonight? wanna see u.

And of course, you gave in. But not without thinking up a plan. You took a deep breath and typed out your reply:

meet me in the parking lot off fourth street at 7:30. wanna take u somewhere.

And you tried to hold out, you really did. But no sooner than you arrived, Michael’s lips were on your neck, sucking and licking, making it hard to think. Before you could even remember Deborah’s warning, you were in the backseat of his car, fogging up the windows as you bounced up and down on his cock. “‘M gonna come!” You warned him.

“Go on, sweetheart.” He encouraged with a groan, strong hands plastered flat against your sweaty back. “Tight cunt’s gonna pull the come right outta me.”

“Fuck, ‘m coming, Mikey!” You whimpered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. His hands gripped your hips, grinding you down on his cock to ride out your orgasm. Your clit bumped deliciously against his pubic bone, and your walls clamped down even tighter, throwing Michael headfirst into his own orgasm.

“Holy- oh my god, don’t fuckin’ stop, baby.” He moaned, throwing his head back. His hips pushed up of their own accord, his thick cock twitching inside you as he shot his come as deep as he could go. He brought one hand down on your ass as you thrusted weakly against him. “That’s it, sweetheart, get every drop.”

You rested your weight on him, your sweaty forehead against the leather headrest. You both took a silent moment to catch your breath, regroup after the explosive sex you always seem to have. Turns out, even with all your disagreements, the attraction never stopped. His hands rubbed up and down your back, almost lulling you to sleep until he pressed his fingertips a little harder, and a moan passed through your lips, eyes shooting open. Michael chuckled deeply and kneaded at that spot, “What was that?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” You admitted, tension rolling away as he worked at the knot. “My back has been killing me lately.”

“Work?”

“Maybe, but ‘m not sure. Just hurts sometimes.”

“Lucky for you, you got your own personal masseuse.”

You snorted, “My hero.”

His hand smacked against your backside playfully, making you jolt on his lap with a giggle. He laughed along with you, “Watch that tone, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, laughter dying down as your eyes haphazardly scanned the ledge of the back window. And next to an empty cup, you saw a piece of paper. A prescription made for Natalie Berzatto.

And it hit you like a train. You couldn’t keep doing this. It wasn’t fair to either of you. You couldn’t keep taking the best parts of him and ignoring the fact that he needed help. And he couldn’t expect you to be around at his beck and call forever. The time for playing pretend was over — you needed to take a real step for the both of you.

You swung your leg over his lap and sat next to him, scanning the car floor for your panties. “Get dressed. I still have somewhere to take you.”

“You kidnappin’ me, baby?”

“It’s only kidnapping if you don’t go willingly.”

Minutes later, you were walking into a nearby building. The entire walk, he asked and asked where you were taking him, but you never answered, merely saying it was a surprise. When he walked in, and his eyes fell on the folded chairs set in a circle, his smile dropped. Without another word, he turned around and walked out.

“Michael, wait!” You were close behind, following him back outside into the hot, sticky summer night. “Just listen to me, okay?”

“So- so you think ‘cause you’re sober now you can do whatever the fuck you want, is that it?” He asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“I’m just trying to help—”

“I told you I wasn’t fuckin’ using anymore!” He yelled at you.

“And I know that you are!” You snapped back. “I’ve seen the empty pill bottles, Michael. All the prescriptions that are never in your own fucking name. I’m not stupid!”

“Stupid enough to keep comin’ back!” He spat at you. “W-what changed, huh? Is it the therapist? ‘Cause before her, you were happy to just fuck me and leave, pills be damned.”

“Oh, fuck that, Michael.” You laughed humorlessly, pushing at his chest. “You are not doing that anymore, being a dick to me because you can’t accept the truth.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what would the truth be, sweetheart? Fuckin’ enlighten me.”

“That you’re gonna fucking destroy yourself if you don’t get help!” You shouted. Tears were filling your eyes at the thought, and you realized you weren’t even angry. You were desperate — desperate for him to do something, anything to help himself. “You- you push everyone that loves you away! Me, Richie, Carm—”

“You leave Carmen outta this.” He grumbled, looking away to avoid seeing the tears that fell down your face.

“Everyone that cares, everyone that tries to help, you just treat them like complete and utter shit because you don’t know how to ask for help! But you don’t have to fucking ask, Mikey — we’re offering! You just have to take it and do something before it’s too late!”

Michael was quiet, eerily so. There was a time when you would’ve been able to read him like a book, to say exactly what he needed to hear. But you couldn’t anymore. And that scared you.

You stepped forward with a sniffle, placing your hands on his biceps. You rubbed up and down in a way that you hoped was comforting. “Just one meeting. That’s all I’m asking.”

When he finally looked back at you, his chest tightened at the sight. Your beautiful eyes, filled with tears and a shimmer of hope that he might agree. And part of him wanted to. Some inkling deep down inside of him wanted to wipe your tears, take your hand, and march into that meeting determined to stay sober for the rest of his life. If only to settle down and make a life with you, one that he could be proud of.

But, as always, something stopped him. A small doubt creeping in, telling him he couldn’t do it. That he wasn’t capable of normality, that it wasn’t in his blood. He was drowning in sorrow and pity, and he was willing to accept that darkness — welcomed it, even. But what kind of man would he be if he dragged you under with him? He cupped your face in his hands, shaking his head. Your hands slid up his forearms and stopped on his wrists with a desperate iron grip. His voice was barely a whisper, “I’m not going to that meeting, baby.”

“Mikey, please.” You begged. “I love you.”

“You can’t fix me.” He hoped you heard what he meant to say: I love you, too.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and responded in kind. It was gentle, melancholic, but it was his way of saying goodbye. His way of expressing the love that he could never quite show you in the way you deserved. But the love was there nonetheless, tearing at his heart until his chest was hollow, nothing left but the memory of you.

When he pulled away, he had to pry your hands off him and take a step back. He gave you a sad smile, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Enjoy your meeting, sweetheart.”

He turned around and walked away. A few tears escaped his eyes when he heard a heart-wrenching sob pass through your lips. He wiped them away quickly and tried to walk faster.

He was gone the next month.

—

“We’re closed!”

“Maybe you should lock the door then.”

You were still in your black dress and heels when you arrived at The Beef. No one knew where Carmy was, but you’d had an idea in the back of your head. You weren’t sure if you were right, but it only made sense that he’d be at his brother’s restaurant.

Well, at the restaurant his brother left him.

When Carmy emerged from the back, he stared, his eyes red from crying. “How’d you know I was here?”

You shrugged, “This is usually where I’d find him too.”

“Yo, please, please don’t come in here with that sentimental bullshit, alright?” He said, his tone sharp and mean. “If I wanted to hear about how great he was, I would’ve gone to the funeral.”

“You should’ve been there anyway. He was your brother.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, Carmen, I didn’t come here to pick a fight.”

He turned on his heel, stomping back to the kitchen, and you followed close behind. “What did you come for then?”

“We’re going to a meeting.”

Carmy kneeled on the floor, next to a bucket of soapy water and a wet rag. He picked it up and wrung it out with a grunt. “What are you talking about?”

“Would you prefer NA or AA?”

He was scrubbing at the same dirty spot that he had for the last hour and a half, but your question made him pause. He looked up at you in disbelief, letting out a scoff. “Excuse me?”

“There are two NA groups I know of, but only one AA, and it starts soon so—”

“Y’know, you’re the addict here, not me.”

“Which is exactly how I know you need to go to a meeting.”

He was seething, an angry red steadily creeping from his neck to his face, one prominent vein bulging in his forehead as he shouted at you. “Goddamnit, I don’t need to go to a fuckin’ Al-Anon meeting! I’m just grieving, alright?!”

“Carm—”

“No, fuck that. The whole reason I didn’t go to the funeral is so I wouldn’t be around that bullshit! You know how Ma gets, and without Mikey here to fix it…”

“Michael was never gonna fix your mother.”

“Right, ‘cause he was too busy trying to fix you.” Carmen let out a harsh chuckle. “‘I’ll call you back, my girl needs me. Hold on, my girl is on the other line.’ Instead of fixing his restaurant, or-or helping his mother, he was making sure you were on the right track. Making sure you don’t relapse.”

Your heart stopped. Your blood burned. You wanted to let loose on him then and there. Yell and shout and cry about how Michael could barely fix himself, let alone you. You wanted to tell Carmen that it was you who desperately tried to fix Michael, make him sober, turn him into the man you knew he could be. Or at least, the one you believed he could be. The man Carm thought he was.

It baffled you how the entire family managed to hide the fact that Michael was an addict from Carmy. But it was a group effort, a last ditch effort to give him the big brother he’d always wanted, the one he remembered from his childhood. He was truly blind to Michael’s true nature, but you knew it was partially because Carmy had his own thing going on. You could see it behind his eyes — it was the same look Michael got before he did something self-destructive.

Instead of yelling or screaming like you wanted to, tears filled your eyes. You knew from experience the Berzatto men could be mean, especially under pressure, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Unlike earlier in the day, you couldn’t hold them back. Tears fell freely down your cheeks.

But unlike when his older brother spat unkind words your way, Carmy didn’t try to distract you from it or talk his way out of it. No, his face dropped when he realized the severity of his words. He watched as your knees buckled beneath you, moving across the floor to catch you once an ugly sob wretched its way past your lips. He held you as your body shook with the emotions that you’d been ignoring all day. One of his hands rested on the back of your head, stroking your hair with his thumb. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, okay?”

You don’t know how long you cried. You just sobbed and sobbed until there was nothing left, until you felt completely and utterly empty. Luckily, Carmy helped you sit on the floor. He sat next to you, both your backs against the dishwasher. It creaked loudly under your combined weight, and you sat up. “Sorry,” You croaked out. “Should I not lean on that?”

Carmy chuckled quietly and drew his knees up, resting his forearms atop them. “Piece of shit doesn’t work, don’t worry about it.”

The tiniest smile tugged at your lips as you leaned back and wiped away your tears. “Good. For me, I mean. Sucks for business though.”

His smile faded away as he watched you wipe your tears. His stomach turned uncomfortably at the fact that he’d been so mean, that he’d made you cry. He knew, of course, that he wasn’t the only reason you broke down, but he didn’t like that he piled on. He called your name softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Carm, it’s ok—”

“It’s not.” He shook his head, blue eyes piercing into yours. “You were right. Michael couldn’t fix Ma’s problems. And you didn’t need him to fix yours. He was lucky to have you.”

A sigh passed through your lips, and for the first time in a long time, tension rolled off your shoulders. “He loved you, Carmen.”

He fought back a sad smile, “He loved you, too.”

You paused, tears of grief filling your eyes before you remembered what you came for. You took a deep breath and wiped at your cheeks. “I need to show you something.”

His brow furrowed, turning a bit to face you, resting one leg on the ground. “What?”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and pulled off the case. You lifted the strip of film from your rubber case, handing it to him. “This is why I need to go to an NA meeting tonight. Figured you could go with me.”

A hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes, Carmy let out a single quiet sob as he stared at the two black and white ultrasounds. “Is it…?”

You nodded, “They are.”

“They?”

“Turns out, you can’t forget to take birth control for even one day. I thought taking two the next day might help, but here we are.” Chuckling quietly, you wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall once more. “I’m not… I’m not asking you to replace Mikey or be their dad or anything. It would… y’know, just be nice not to do this by my—”

“Woah, hey,” He stopped you with a shake of his head, not even wanting you to think like that. “You’re family, period. Have been since Michael brought you home. And always will be. Alright?”

Finally, a sliver of hope. You smiled, “Yeah.”

“Good.” He handed the photos back to you gently, as if one wrong move would ruin them. Then, he stood on his feet, wiping a hand over his face and taking a deep breath. He offered his hand. “Now, come on. I’m taking you to your meeting.”

#michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fx #the bear smut #sorry in advance for this one lol

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ghostincorrectinternetedition · 1 year

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Secondo: Suicide is NEVER the answer! You have to outlive those who have wronged you. Stay alive purely out of spite if need be.

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chilschuck · 4 days

Note

Not sure how to put this into words (again) but... Chilchuck with a very affectionate reader, one that's always wanting to hug him and hold his hand. Hopeless romantic falls in love with divorced man in his midlife???

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WAHHH ANOTHER ADORABLE REQUEST FROM YOU ANON!!! i hope i did it justice!! i wrote this cozy in bed half asleep so it may be more sappy than usual…. Hshkshsjshksj. i hope you enjoy!! <333

— INTERTWINED: chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none, fluffy + sfw!!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 988. short but sweet!

✦ decided to give you a drabble instead of hcs this time, hope that’s okay!! this was super fun and i would love to elaborate more on the idea, hehe. <333

Physical touch was your love language, that much was clear. With the other party members, you found yourself patting their shoulder or back as you passed. Maybe even offering a hug here and there when you felt it was needed. Yet, with Chilchuck, you discovered your love language really stood out.

When he offered a hand to you to help with your balance, you would take it, giving it a light squeeze in return. Even when you were fine on your feet again, you still didn’t want to let go. You craved his touch so much that even in darker parts of the dungeon, you intertwined your fingers with his. The first time you did it, you could practically hear the sound of his head turning to give you a look. If he was uncomfortable with your touch, he didn’t verbalize it. Instead, he understood what you were seeking, and helped to give you a bit of that comfort.

Hand holding was easy to hide your true intent with, but you began craving even more. Your bravery would shine through when you’d feel his hand in yours long enough, and pretty soon you were setting up your bedroll beside his.

Chilchuck blinked, looking up from situating under his blanket to raise a brow towards you. “What are you doing?”

Biting back a laugh at his oblivious question, you decided to give a light grin instead. “Wanted to sleep beside you tonight. Heard you were warm.” That caused his face to heat up, as he fussed and grumbled about Izutsumi under his breath. Not able to hold back that laugh any longer, you giggled at his behavior before getting cozy in your own covers.

“Goodnight, Chilchuck.” You spoke softly, reaching out a hand to rub his back for a moment. Your touch was soft, cautious, and full of a need to feel him under your palms. Instead of complaining about your affections, you noticed his eyes begin to grow heavy. Stifling a yawn, he ran his fingers through his hair before saying your name. “‘Night.”

You’d willingly call yourself a hopeless romantic. Enjoying the time you spent by his side and the small touches you managed to give, of course you’d begin to crave more. It was no longer enough just to give his hand an occasional squeeze or a reassuring pat on his shoulder. You noticed you’d often daydream about what it’d be like to hold him, and soon enough, you couldn’t take it anymore.

One night, the half-foot seemed to be lost in thought. He stared at his hands in his lap, tuning out any voices chatting around him. Except, of course, your own.

“Chilchuck?” You called in that sweet tune that always made an appearance when it came to him. “You okay? You seem preoccupied.”

Sitting beside him, you waited until he gave a reply in that tired tone you had grown used to. “Just thinking.”

Before you could stop yourself, you wrapped an arm around him, pulling him gently to you. The hug was brief, but enough to knock him out of his stupor and widen his eyes. When you let him go, you made sure that every little detail of his chest pressed against yours would remain in your memory.

“You looked like you needed a hug.”

And he did. He always did when it came to you. It was strange, but he began waiting for your touches, your hands intertwining with his, your gentle caresses when he struggled to sleep. Chilchuck cleared his throat, trying once again to ignore the slight feeling of pink rising in his cheeks. “…Thanks.”

It was strange just how much you were doing to him. It was obvious what your intentions were, yet he couldn’t seem to make himself turn you down. He wondered, with a small smile, just what you’d pull him into next.

“You seem to let them do anything, huh?” Marcille questioned him one day, the two of them walking ahead of the rest of the party. Chilchuck gave a light scoff in response, his hands resting behind his head as they usually did. At least, when they weren’t intertwined with yours.

“That’s not true and you know it.” It was Marcille’s turn to make a sound, a huff of unconvinced laughter leaving her lips. Rolling her eyes, she thought about all she could throw in his face to tell him otherwise.

The constant hand holding, the sleeping next to each other, the soft hugs you would give him anytime you could. You’d even offer to rub his back for him to help him get sleepy again, something he was growing more and more tempted to accept. Counting on her fingers as she listed all the offenses, Chilchuck grew increasingly more embarrassed. He managed to somehow hide into his neckwarmer, before barking out, “Ok, ok, enough! Alright, I get it. No need to be a smartass.”

Marcille was definitely proud of herself, wondering just how much of this would end up like one of her romance novels. Maybe what he needed was someone much more romantic then he was, a foil to his cynical character.

She felt herself grin.

Chilchuck could deny it, but many things about you made him soft. Your smile, the way it crinkled your eyes, the way it lit up a room like some sort of magic. It was almost too much to bear, yet like a moth to a flame, he couldn’t help but gravitate towards it.

Maybe your hopeless romanticism was beginning to rub off on him or something. Especially, as he finally tucked himself in for the night next to you, he still longed for your affection. You had somehow managed to captivate a man who felt he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, seek love again. You proved him wrong on countless occasions, and even as he felt his eyes begin to succumb to sleep, your voice called him home.

“Goodnight, Chilchuck.”

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <33

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#୨ chilchuck my beloved ୧ #this turned out really sappy #hope you like it anon!!!!#sorry it’s so short ;;;#thought it’d be cute to end it there!!#chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader #dunmeshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader

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aanoia · 11 months

Text

Dying

Poly!marauders x reader, James Potter x reader, Remus Lupin x reader, Sirius Black x reader

Summary; the marauders had known their girlfriend smoked to dissipate the pain from her abusive family. They just didn't know how bad it could, and would get

Words; 1,400+

Warnings; serious TW, mentions of abuse, toxic asf family, drug abuse, weed, alcohol, whiskey, underage drinking and smoking, substance abuse, self harm, cuts, abuse (ish?), depression (not mentioned but apparent), seriously bad mental health

If you are easily triggered I advise you do not read this as it covers very serious topics.

I will be making a part 2 with a happy ending, because they exist and you deserve one, no matter how deep you've dug yourself into a hole.

Pt. 2

If you are struggling with mental health issues and need help call or text 988 to get in touch with the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. If you are struggling with substance abuse and or mental health and need help call 1-800-662-4357 to get on the phone with an employee of SAMHSA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. If you are being abused or neglecting by family members or someone else and need help call 800-799-7233 to get on the phone with some from the National Domestic Violence Hotline.

If you need help please reach out. Whether it be to one of the resources above, a trusted adult or friend, or me. I cannot speak for others around you but I can for me and I am here for every single one of you. You can talk to me no matter how small, large, serious, "dumb" ("" bc no problem is actually dumb), no matter what. I will sit and listen to you for hours. Almost everything mentioned in this story are things I have experienced. Abuse. Self harm. Substance abuse (smoking and drinking). And pushing away the people who want to help. I understand and will listen. You matter, and you are loved. It will get better, I promise. You can take my word for it. I love all of you, no matter who you are, and I beg you to reach out of you need someone to help bare the weight the world has given you. I'm here for you, and I'm proud of you for being here today, no matter how hard to was.

You are not alone.

When James, Sirius, and Remus first found out their girlfriend was a borderline stoner, they seemed fine with it for the most part. James was indifferent, believing she wasn’t consuming a dangerous amount. Sirius was impressed and baffled, he spent weeks trying to figure out how she snuck the drug into Hogwarts, which had a strict policy against the use of substances. Every once in a while Sirius even joined Y/n in a smoking session. Remus, however, seemed to be the only one who was slightly worried, he knew all about unhealthy coping mechanisms and how addictive they are, but he chose to trust his girlfriend and left it alone, something he felt very guilty about later on.

Everything changed after the summer before sixth year. The four had kept in frequent touch, mourning over the fact that they couldn’t find a time to get together. Mid August Y/n had stopped responding to letters sent by her boyfriends, which worried them immensely. And when she arrived at platform 9 ¾, looking sickly pale and high out of her mind, they knew something was wrong.

Stubborn as usual, Y/n proclaimed she was fine. Having lied and said that this was her first time doing any illegal substances, which includes alcohol and other drugs, in weeks, and she was just enjoying it. Each of the boys had a pit in their stomach, their girlfriends usually cheerful aura completely gone, seeming to have faded over the summer.

Sirius was the first to notice the problem with your smoking. He took into account the changes in your stash when he would join you every once in a while, the amount you had from one session into another completely decimating your lie about only smoking once or twice a week.

Remus was the one who noticed your drinking problem. He had invited you on a study date with just him, James and Sirius being busy with quidditch practice, and you had showed up late. He didn’t mind, knowing you weren’t the most punctual person, but what he did mind was the strong scent of alcohol you had attempted to cover up with a spell. It hadn’t worked.

Now, poor oblivious James was the one to uncover the self harm scars on his beautiful girlfriend's body. It had been a rare time where you had decided to hang out with the boy, as you had been pulling away from the three at an alarming rate. So, James decided to make the most of it, not knowing the next time this would happen. His way of making the most of it was laying down in bed, bodies pressed up against each other and your chest steadily rose and fell. He had fallen into a light sleep before he was woken up as you adjusted your position, throwing your arm out to the side. He looked at you with a tired smile, grateful for this moment as his gaze traveled up your arm. His smile fell as his heart dropped. When you had stretched your arm out the sleeves of your jumper had ridden up your wrist, revealing the angry red cuts protruding from your skin. James felt tears prick his eyes, not knowing what to do.

Today was a particularly rough day for Y/n. She had received a letter from her parents, informing her that they wish she was never their daughter, and that she would find some creative way to die to rid them of their burden of a disgraceful daughter. It was no exaggeration to say she was out of it. Anyone with any common sense could tell as she stumbled through the Great Hall, smelling greatly of whiskey and weed, and anyone with a good nose (Remus, due to his furry problem, and Sirius, due to his furry gift) could sense the metallic smell of blood coating her skin.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” Remus mumbled, standing up from his spot at the table, James and Sirius looking up quizzically. “I’m over this. We need to talk to her. Now.” He said and the boys nodded, standing up with him and walking to the girl. Sirius gently touched her shoulder, leading her out as she made a face of disgust at his closeness, causing his heart to twang.

She had been so mean lately, and it was slowly shattering the boys’ heart, however, it was affecting Sirius the most. He missed his girl. The one who always cheered him up and provided him bucket loads of support when he was thrown to the curb and disowned.

They carefully led the girl into the boys’ empty dorm, and the three were thankful Peter decided to eat breakfast this morning instead of sleeping in. Y/n sat on the bed, reaching into her cloak and pulling out a shiny silver flask.

Remus scoffed and grabbed the flask from her hands, “Fucking no, Y/n.”

Anger flashed across the girls face, “The fuck is your problem?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

He waved the flask in front of her face angrily, “This shit is! And the weed! And, baby,” His voice softened. “We know you’ve been cutting. Why won’t you let us in?”

She scoffed and stood up, snatching the flask from the boys hand, “Because it’s my fucking mind and you guys have no right to pretend you deserve to know what’s going on in it.” It was Sirius’ turn to scoff and Y/n looked over with raised eyebrows. “What, got a problem, Black?” She asked again.

“Yeah, I’ve got a fucking problem. You’re being a bitch.” He said angrily.

“Excuse you? I’m being a bitch?” She took a step closer. “Says fucking you, Sirius. The only bitch here is you. With your endless manipulation and fucking lies!”

“Okay, you need to calm down.” Remus said before Sirius could speak.

The only sound that could be heard was Y/n’s loud laughter. It lasted a moment before abruptly stopping as she threw the flask down and neared Remus.

She placed her hands on his chest, smoothing down a wrinkle, “You guys are the ones freaking out when I’m.” She pushed him back, his eyes widened. “Fucking.” Push. “Fine.” His back hit the wall and James, who had been silent the entire time finally stepped in between the two, anger covering his features.

“Back off. We have done nothing but love you! We don’t deserve this shit, Y/n. You don’t have to tell us everything but a simple fucking explanation is due! Even if you won’t give us that you have no right, no right, to lay your hands on us, and I will not put up with this bullshit.” He said and it was silent. The boys held their breaths, hoping James’ speech got through to the Y/n as her and James had a staring contest.

Y/n smirked, “Look at you. The little bitch finally comes out of his shell, and spews utter bullshit.” She said flatly, moving to grab her flask and her bag which she had previously set on the bed. She walked to the door and paused, “We’re over, by the way. I’m leaving your sorry asses.” And she walked out.

The moment the door shut James' body shook with silent sobs and Remus wrapped his arms around the boy, resting his head in between his shoulder blades. Sirius joined the hug, squeezing tightly as a few stray tears of his own left his eyes.

The three stood there, hugging each other tightly as they cried in each other's arms. They had no choice now but to watch the girl they loved most slowly kill herself, for a reason unknown to them.

Unbeknownst to them, the girl slid down the backside of the door, hand covering her mouth to silence her sobs. She knew it was getting bad and she knew those boys cared about her and wanted to help and she fucking pushed them away, afraid they would turn out to be like her parents. Cruel and abusive. She regretted leaving the moment the door slammed shut, her mind immediately sobering up as she realized what she had done. She just lost the three most important people in her life, people who loved her, if they still could after her cruel words. In that moment she realized the most terrifying thing. The thing that haunted her nightmares and fueled her addictions. In all her attempts to cut her parents from her life and forget about them. She had become them.

#aanoia #romance #the marauders #marauders map #james & peter & remus & sirius #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus loves sirius #sirius x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #poly marauders #poly marauders angst #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders angst #poly!marauders #angst

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abellmunsonmovie · 2 months

Text

Tears and Pancakes

Wordcount: 988 words

Warning: Reader is depressed, Eddie comforts Reader, no mention of Reader's race/gender, use of Y/N, pet names (Sweets, Baby, Sweetheart)

Eddie hasn’t seen you in two weeks, normally you can’t go an hour without seeing each other. Eddie tried to call you several times every week, he thought he had done something, he finally decides to call Steve and Robin to see if they knew anything.

“Hey this is Family Video, I’m Steve how-”, “Steve” Eddie interrupts, “Oh hey man, whats up?”, “Have you seen Y/N, I haven’t seen them in weeks” Eddie says clearly panicked, “Uh, no um…I’m gonna ask Robin maybe she has”, Eddie can hear Steve and Robin talking through the phone, then Steve goes back to Eddie, “Listen man, neither of us have seen Y/N, but I’m sure they’re okay…Have you called Nance?”, Eddie rubs his face in frustration, “No, I-i’ll try her…thanks”. Eddie hangs up the phone and calls Nancy, “Wheeler-”, “Nancy?”, “Eddie? No it’s Mike,” Mike says in a confused tone, “I need to talk to Nancy…I think Y/N might be mad at me”, “Oh um… okay hold on” Mike still has that confused tone, “NANCY”, “WHAT”, Eddie rolls his eyes hearing them yelling at each other. “Hey Eddie?” Nancy says worriedly, “Nancy…have you seen Y/N”, “I haven’t seen them in 2 weeks”, Eddie scoffs “Do you know anyone else I can call, I called Steve and Robin, I called you…If they’re mad at me I wanna give them space”, Nancy tries to reassure Eddie, “Y/N’s not mad at you, they-…”, “They what?” Eddie asks, “Sometimes they go off the radar for a little bit…it happens every now and then and then they come back fine…”, Eddie's eyebrows pinch together, “And why?”, “They never say…maybe you should go over there”, Eddie nods “Thanks Nancy, bye” he hangs up the phone and hurriedly puts on his shoes.

He gets to your place and unlocks the door with a spare key, the TV is on, the kitchen is messy, dishes towering in the sink, he walks to your bedroom, and through a crack in the door, he can see you curled up under the blankets, crying. He opens the door slowly and crouches down to your level, “Baby” he says softly, your head shoots up and your face goes red in embarrassment, he shouldn’t be seeing you like this, no one should. You haven’t showered in days, “Shit…Eddie why- how did you even get in?”, “You left a spare at my place…now come on…tell me whats going on”, your lip trembles, “Please just go” you squeak out, Eddies heart breaks a little more and his eyes start to sting, “Baby…I can help”, you shake your head, “I’m not a fucking kid Eddie”, Eddie holds your hand “No, your love of my fucking life and you need help…Nancy told me you’ve done this before…whats going on baby?”, you start to cry agin and you wrap your arms around Eddie, pulling him towards you, Eddie pulls you close and shushes you, “I got you baby…it’s okay, you’re alright…”, you snap, “I’m so fucking tired if this shit!”, he rubs your back, “You’ll get through it baby…”, “Why can’t I just be okay?! What did I do to feel like this?!” you say pulling away and looking at Eddie, he shakes his head and holds your hands, “You didn’t do anything…you just…you are you okay? And I know, trust me, I know…how fucking tiring it is…but you are not alone in this…you have me, you’ll always have me”, he holds your face in his hands, wiping your tears off his cheeks, “I don’t wanna burden you” you say, Eddie looks in your eyes, “Y/N…you are the best fucking thing thats ever happened to me in my entire god damn life…you could never be a burden”, you feel your eyes tear up more, “I don’t know why I get like this…”, Eddie kisses your cheeks, “It’s okay…just let me help you feel better…”, you smile weakly and nod.

Eddie goes and starts a bubble bath and calls take out, once you get in the bath he knocks on the door, “Baby…can I come in?”, “Yeah”, he walks in, “Here let me wash your hair,” he says softly, you smile, “You sure?” you ask, he nods and kisses your head before starting to massage your hair with the shampoo, “Y’know, you can come to me when you get like this?”, you sigh and nod looking down, “I just don’t wanna bring people down with my shit…especially you…you make it all less shitty…” you smile weakly, Eddie kisses your lips gently, “Well you aren’t gonna bring my down, I’m your fucking boyfriend…I want to help”, you nod and he finishes cleaning you.

After you get out of the bath and get changed into a big t-shirt and shorts, you walk out to Eddie finishing the dishes, “Eddie, you didn’t have to do that” you say smiling, Eddie laughs softly “I wanted to”, you walk behind Eddie and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his back, Eddie finishes the dishes and dries off his hands, he turns around and rubs your back while kissing your head, “How you feeling, sweets?”, you shrug, “Little better…”, he nods and kisses your head, “It’ll get better, baby…”, you hear a knock at the door, it’s the pizza guy.

After you both eat and decide to go to bed, he makes sure you brush your teeth and starts a load of laundry before you both get into bed. Eddie holds your hand while resting the two if your hands on his chest as he rubs your head, “I’m so proud of you…you did really so good today sweetheart” he whispers, you smile softly “Thank you Eddie…for everything”, he smiles and kisses your head, “Get some sleep, sweet baby…what you want me to make in the morning?”, you shake your head, “Eddie…you don’t have to make anything”, “Y/N…what do you want?”, you laugh “Fine…Pancakes”, he kisses your lips, “Pancakes it is”.

Hey guys, sorry I literally haven't wrote an Eddie blurb in like a week, I have been so busy, but I decided to write a blurb where Eddie comforts depressed reader, and as a person who has depression I know how it can be, i'm sure it's different for everyone, so I just wrote from my experience, I hope you guys enjoy. -Bella<3

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie stranger things #eddie munson headcanon #eddie blurb #eddie munson angst #abellmunsonmovie writes

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unveilandresist · 2 months

Text

A scathing critique of how Aaron Bucknell's self immolation is being portrayed by US media.

In Bushnell’s case, the US political-media establishment appears to be doing its best to not only decontextualise but also posthumously discredit him. Time Magazine’s write-up, for example, admonishes that the US “Defence Department policy states that service members on active duty should ‘not engage in partisan political activity’” – as though actively abetting a genocide weren’t politically “partisan”. Furthermore, the magazine specifies, US military regulations “prohibit wearing the uniform during ‘unofficial public speeches, interviews’”, and other activities. Perhaps Bushnell’s ashes can be tried in military court.

At the bottom of the Time article, readers are charitably given the following instructions: “If you or someone you know may be experiencing a mental-health crisis or contemplating suicide, call or text 988” – which naturally implies that Bushnell was simply the victim of a “mental-health crisis” rather than someone making a most cogent and defiant political point in response to an extremely mentally disturbing political reality.

At the end of the day, anyone who is not experiencing a serious “mental-health crisis” over the genocide going down in Gaza with full US backing can be safely filed under the category of psychologically disturbed.

...

while we journalists are supposed to be the ones speaking truth to power, suffice it to say that Bushnell has put Western corporate media to shame.

Rest in power, Aaron Bushnell.

#aaron bushnell #palestine #free palestine #anti imperialism #gaza #west bank #from the river to the sea palestine will be free

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soberscientistlife · 2 months

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If you or someone else is thinking about harming themselves others, Text or call 988 and speak to a counselor. It is open 24/7 in the US

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jungkookslipring · 4 months

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I Will Never Make You Lonely: CH 1

Summary: When your life is falling apart, your 8 best friends are there to lift you up

TW: mentions of de&th, su!c!de, su!c!de tendencies, su!c!dal ideologies, depress!on, anxiety, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, crying. If this is in any way triggering I’d steer towards more of my happier works.

If you or someone you love has thought of or acted on suicide, there is help and there is hope

Call or text 988

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, non idol AU

PSA: this is no way represents the artists. While their birth names are used in this story, this is in no way a reflection of the artist or artists in real life.

Ch 1

The next day, Saturday, you were in your bedroom getting ready to paint your nails while the other guys were either out and about or in the apartments just doing their own thing.

“Y/n?! Can I borrow some of your coffee grounds?” Shouted Seungmin from the other side of the apartment. You laughed before you shouted back.

“Check the bag behind mine!” There was silence and shuffling until you heard “YOU’RE THE BEST!” You giggled to yourself. You got the younger one his own bag of ground coffee because he always borrowed yours. You didn’t mind sharing your coffee but Seungmin loved it so much you decided he needed his own; it was only fair since you used his coffee machine.

“Would you like me to make you a cup?” Seungmin yelled from the kitchen.

“Yes, please! Can you add vanilla too?” You ask.

“French or Bean?” He shouts back.

“Bean!!” You answer before going back to your task. You were going through your colors when your phone started ringing. It was Carter’s sister, Peyton. You put down your nail polish and answered the phone.

“Hey, what's up?” you ask putting the phone in between your ear and shoulder so you could proceed to paint your nails.

“Umm…w-what are you doing right now?” Peyton asked. You froze with the brush hovering above your nail bed. She was crying.

“I’m just about to paint my nails, why?” you ask, screwing the nail polish wand back into the tiny glass container. You grabbed the phone and held it firmly pressed to your ear. You heard your friend trying to control her breathing.

“Peyton? What’s going on?” You ask urgently.

“Carter was in a car accident early this morning…her car went off the road and hit a tree,” she choked out. Your heart stopped. There was no way.

“Is she okay?” you asked with every hope in the world that she was okay. There was silence.

No.

Please god no.

There was a ringing in your ear that wouldn’t allow you to process what your friend was saying over the phone. While staring straight ahead you saw the picture frame that held a photo of you and Carter smiling together at the lake. You shook your head.

“I’m so sorry…” Peyton cried out.

No.

You slowly set your phone on the floor as you stared at the picture. You could hear the faint voice of Peyton on the other line calling your name. You shook your head as you scooted backward until your back hit the bed frame. You press the heel of your hands to your eyes.

“No No No..no this isn’t…this isn’t real,” you grit out between your teeth. After you moved to Seoul, you were only able to meet your best friend, Carter, once a year for a couple of days before returning to school. Little did you know that the last time you spent time with Carter would be the final time. You remained seated, hugging your legs, and rocking back and forth. Suddenly, you heard two pairs of footsteps coming to a sudden stop outside your door, before entering your room and starting to speak.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Chris asked calmly but slightly frantic. He scanned you making sure you weren’t physically hurt. You open your eyes and look up. Standing in front of you were Chris and Seungmin. How does one relay this type of information without completely shattering?

“Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay, yeah?” Chris whispered, squatting to your level. You shook your head again. It wasn’t okay.

“Carter-” you whispered.

“Carter’s dead,” you finally say. They audibly gasped, Seungmin immediately squatting down to your level by Chris.

“Oh my god…” Seungmin breathed out. Chris crawled up next to you and gathered you in his arms.

“Oh, my goodness y/n…I’m so sorry,” he said, arms circling your frame. You barely registered the movements until you were breathing in his scent. Seungmin had a hand on your back, rubbing it in soothing motions. He turned around when he heard your friend calling your name over the phone. He picked it up and held it to his ear.

“Hi…yeah Y/n is still here, Chris has her right now,” Seungmin said gently in English. Peyton asked you to call her back when you could. She hung up and Seungmin put the phone down. When Seungmin turned back to Chris, he was still holding you in his arms.

“Peyton asked if you could call her back when you get the chance,” he said gently as he rubbed your knee. You nodded as your eyes shook. Their comfort was the one thing keeping you grounded and preventing you from going catatonic. After maybe 5 minutes, you lifted your head from Chris’s shoulder.

“I think, I think I’m going to call Peyton back, check in on her” you whisper. Seungmin rubbed a thumb over your hand.

“Would you like us to stay?” He asked. Your friends were just so kind. You shook your head, giving them a tight-lined reassuring smile.

“I think I’ll be okay, thank you though.”

Chris squeezed you once more before hesitantly moving to stand up.

“If you need absolutely anything at all, come get us okay?” He said with so much sincerity in his tone. You made eye contact with them and wordlessly nodded before the two walked out and closed the door. They made their way into the living room and found Minho and Han. The duo smiled at them until they saw the sad looks Chris and Seungmin had painted on their faces.

“You guys okay?” Minho asked. Chris let out a small sigh and guided the boys further into the living room. They all sat down on the couch and the two listened intently.

“Y/n’s best friend Carter passed away,” Chris said looking at his hands. Minho and Han’s breaths hitched.

“Oh my gosh…” Han whispered. Minho put a hand on Han’s knee.

“How?” Minho asked. Seungmin shook his head.

“We don’t know…we didn’t ask,” said Seungmin. They realized it had to have been a freak accident or something; Carter was young.

“Should we tell the others?” Minho asked.

“Eventually yeah, just so they know what’s going on,” Chris said quietly. After 30 minutes, Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin finally got home from their classes. Chris quietly called them into the living room. They all quickly took off their shoes and sat down nervously.

“No one’s in trouble, I just have some news,” Chris said sadly. Everyone’s hearts started racing, even the ones who already knew.

“We don’t know how…but Y/n’s best friend Carter died,” Chris said sadly. Everyone’s eyes went huge.

“Oh no…” Changbin said quietly, shaking his head. He couldn’t even imagine the look on your face when you found out.

“How is she?” Jeongin asked quietly. Chris gave Jeongin a sad smile and patted his leg.

“I think she’s in shock,” he whispered, remembering how he and Seungmin found you. They all sat in silence, not knowing what to say until Seungmin spoke up. “She’s on the phone with Carter’s sister,” he said quietly. They all nodded, and all that could be heard were the cars outside. Back in your room, you picked up your phone and went to your recent phone calls. You clicked on Peyton’s contact and hit the soeaker button.

“Hey,” she croaked out. She’s been crying for a while.

“Hey,” you whispered.

“How are you doing?” Peyton asked. You shook your head.

“I don’t know….”

There was silence for a while until Peyton spoke up.

“Do you think you would be able to fly down here next month?” she asked. You shrugged while rubbing your temple. You only flew down for the holidays and usually, you had enough saved for those flights only. Tickets weren’t cheap.

“Yeah I think I can make it,” you say before Peyton lets out a sigh.

“Okay…I can pick you up from the airport if you’d like,” she offered.

“Sure, yeah that works.”

This was not happening.

“Okay, I’ll keep you posted,” Peyton said thickly as she hung up. You let your arm fall to the side as you stared at the ceiling. You inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh. You decided to get out of bed and get that coffee that was probably lukewarm by now. The guys all whipped their heads around when they heard your door click. You slowly walked out of your room into the hallway, stopping in the entryway when you saw 8 pairs of eyes looking at you with so much concern. The sight of you was just so sad. You were wearing one of Hyunjin’s sweatpants and Chris’s black hoodie, which wasn’t new, but you looked so small and so lost, something they weren’t used to seeing. Your face had lost all of its color, like you had just seen a ghost. You suddenly felt so vulnerable, scratching your neck.

“I uh *clears throat* thanks for the coffee, Seungmin,” you say, giving him a shaky smile.

“No problem…” he says just as quietly. Everyone was still unsure how to approach this situation. Do they mention Carter? Do they act like nothing is wrong? Your hands were shaky, still in a state of shock from the phone call you got not even an hour ago. Minho and Changbin both stood up quickly when they watched you almost drop your mug. At this stage, the boys were nervous you were either going to drop the mug on your foot, spill the hot liquid on your skin, or all of the above. That fear came true when you took a shaky sip of your coffee, the hot liquid spilling out from the sides and hitting your wrists. You made a pained noise as you put the mug down. Minho swiftly walked into the kitchen calmly placed hands on your shoulders and led you to the sink, immediately turning on the cold water.

Everyone knew you were headstrong, so they weren’t used to seeing you like this. Within your friend group, you were the third oldest, and in times when they needed someone to lean on, it came naturally to you to care for them. Only on a couple of occasions have they seen you upset, like during a sad drama or when you’d laugh so hard tears would spring to your eyes, or when COVID happened and so much was happening, but even then you remained strong for them, and right now you looked like you were on the brink of an anxiety attack.

“Come here,” Minho whispered after turning off the faucet. He walked you into the living room where everyone else was and pulled you into a hug. Your arms hung by your side and your breathing became uneven, but you refused to cry, cause once you cried then it was real.

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to love, but what happened?” Minho asked carefully.

“Um…car accident?” you said almost as a question but more in disbelief. You heard someone make a pained noise while you stared at the wall.

“I don’t know how…maybe an animal ran out or maybe she was on her phone, I don’t know….but her car ran off the road…and she hit a tree.” No one knew what to say.

“Y/n…were so sorry,” Hyunjin said sadly. As much as you wanted to stay in someone’s embrace, you needed a distraction, something to take your mind off of things. You lifted your head and took a deep breath.

“I’m gonna try to get ahead on my reading, so I can get further in my research paper,” you said as you slowly pulled away from Minho, putting on your best attempt of a smile. Everyone nodded, not sure if they wanted you to be by yourself, but they respected your wishes and watched you retreat to your room. You flipped back and forth between reading and writing for a few more hours until your eyes hurt from staring at the screen for so long. You didn’t know how you were going to sleep. You tossed and turned in your bed for an hour, the phone call on replay in your mind. Well shit if you can’t sleep might as well study even more, right? You pulled out your laptop, the bright screen irritating your eyes even further as you started typing when all of a sudden there was a knock at your door.

‘Great, I woke one of the kids up’ you thought to yourself. You went to open the door and there stood the literal sun.

“Hey y/n,” he said sweetly. You gave him a small smile.

“Hey Lixie, what’s up?” you asked.

"Can't sleep...can I stay with you tonight?" he asked playing with his sleeve. You grinned and pulled him into the room. You got under the blankets, Felix following close behind. You saved your work and put your laptop on your nightstand. You pulled the sweet boy into your arms and closed your eyes.

“Y/n?” He asked quietly. You hummed in response.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered. You ran your fingers through his hair.

“Thanks, Lixie.” He smiled and snuggled even deeper into your side. Felix dozed off in your hold, but you were wide awake.

At around 7 am, Felix woke up. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He stared into your eyes, and by the looks of it, you hadn’t slept a wink.

“Did you sleep at all?” He asked. You shook your head.

“My brain wouldn’t let me,” you slightly chuckle. Felix pouted.

“I’m sorry,” he said in his low voice. You gave him a small smile.

“Thanks for the cuddles Lixie,” you thank Felix as you pat his hand. He smiled and gave you a side hug.

“Anytime,” he said as he squeezed you.

“Do you want to come to breakfast?” He asked. He figured you probably didn’t have the biggest appetite but he still wanted to ask. You shook your head.

“I’m not hungry, but maybe I’ll come out at some point, I’m gonna keep working on this,” you say, rubbing your eyes and pointing towards your laptop. Felix and patted your shoulder before getting out of bed and leaving your room. In the kitchen, Changbin and Seungmin were cooking. They both turned around when they heard footsteps.

“Morning Lix,” Changbin smiled. Felix gave Changbin the best smile he could, but the older one knew what was going through his head.

“How is she?” he asked quietly. Felix shrugged.

“She didn’t sleep at all, which I get…I just feel so bad for her,” Felix sighed. They both nodded.

“I don’t know if she’s still in shock or trying to numb herself but…I mean I know it hasn’t even been 24 hours yet so maybe she is just in shock but *sigh* I don’t know, it’s just hard seeing her that way,” Felix added. Seungmin shook his head.

“I’m sure she was very grateful you stayed with her last night, honey,” Changbin whispered as Felix hid his face further into the older’s neck, Seungmin walking up behind him and scratching his back. If Changbin felt wetness on his skin, he wouldn’t say a word.

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ahhhhhh nerve wracking! I promise chapter 2 will be more lighthearted. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!❤️

taglist: @felixmainacc @felixburneracc @myforevermelody143 @dunno-wut-to-do @itzsana-kiddingmenow

#stray kids #stray kids x stay #stray kids fluff #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids hurt/comfort #stray kids x reader #non idol au #skz au #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #hurt/comfort

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