#talk of suicidal thoughts in previous chapters

[villainousshakespeare]

Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 3

Loki/OFC Rated M (may go up to E in future chapters) Trigger Warnings: Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics, mention of torture and mind control

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Loki’s plans to conquer and rule Midgard have come to a disastrous end. After being captured by the Avengers, he is being held on Earth. Odin has refused to interfere, and the outlook for the God of Mischief appear bleak. His only hope may lie in one mortal woman, a Psychiatric expert brought in to interrogate him.

Dr. Caroline Thorpe is intrigued by Loki and thinks that more lies beneath his actions than is commonly known. Can she find out the truth before he is shipped off to die for crimes against the Earth? And can Loki bring himself to care?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @mareebird @colorfulfreakstudentpizza  @szycha22 @chokemedaddyloki @queenofallhobos​ @just-the-hiddles-reads​  @alwida10

The cell felt empty once more after she left. Loki tried not to let it bother him. After all, he would not be occupying it for long. He wondered if she would bother to return. He couldn’t really blame her if she did not. At his best Loki knew he was an acquired taste, and he had hardly been his most charming self with Dr. Caroline Thorpe.

It was too formal a name for the lady in question, Loki decided. Dr. Thorpe sounded stiff and proper, not like the idiosyncratic woman who had been questioning him. Such a name belonged to someone who frowned more, who lectured him on the error of his ways. Caroline had smiled at him, the first honest, uncompelled smile he had seen in over a year directed his way. She was not what he had been expecting, not that he had been expecting anything.

A movement out of the corner of his eye had Loki spinning around towards the door to his cell. An odd feeling of hope crept up in his chest. She was back, and he did not have to face the impending dark alone.

He was wrong in that. It was not the doctor standing outside his cell, but the Midgardian bureaucrat who was so keen on seeing Loki hang. A snarl on his lips, Loki sank back onto the uncomfortable bench, making himself as uncooperative looking as possible.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” the man said with an insincere smile. “Would you kindly accompany me; I have some questions for you.”

“No,” Loki said succinctly after pretending to consider the matter for a moment. Even if he had been inclined to do so before, branding Loki with the name of the father who had abandoned him killed any flicker of desire to be accommodating.

“Well then let me rephrase that,” one of the guards grunted. “Get your alien ass off the bench and come with us.”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” he sighed in regret. “I am in the middle of a therapy session, and I believe I am about to have a breakthrough.”

“I don’t see the doctor here,” the chief official made a show of looking around, as though Caroline would be hiding under the table. “Scared her off already, did you? I told her it was useless to try and get through to you.”

“On the contrary, she just went to get us sustenance. The good doctor promised to stay with me as long as I needed, all night if it pleased me.”

He didn’t know if she would be coming back or not, but he was not about to admit as much to this loathsome human. As far as Midgardians went, Caroline was the most tolerable of those he had met, and this nuisance of a man among the least. She had at least spoken to him as a person, he realized. He had appreciated that, and enjoyed the sparring back and forth they had engaged in.

“Some people just don’t know a lost cause when they see one,” the guard sneered.

“Is that what I am? A lost cause?” he stood up, using his height once more to try and intimidate. The other man was not small, but Loki was a God.

“Well, that depends on you,” the man in charge had not lost his false smile. “As I said, I have some questions for you. About some of the alien tech we recovered.”

“Well then, might I suggest you resurrect one of the Chitari and try to get answers out of them? Although I would ask nicely if I were you. They tend to view your sort as… well, food.”

In truth, Loki despised the Chitari and all they represented, but if anyone deserved to be devoured by one it was these men.

“It’s not a Chitari weapon we have questions about. Now, are you coming, or do I have to have my men drag you there?”

“Just say the word, Secretary Pierce,” the lunking guard at his side offered.

“At ease, Rumlow, I am sure our visitor can play nice.”

Not a Chitari device? Loki did his best to keep his face impassive as his mind raced. Did these fools have the tesseract here? Could he be so lucky? The metal circling his wrists might stop his own powers, but not even Asgardian shackles could stop an infinity stone. All Loki need do was grab the cube and he was free! He could go anywhere, hide in the deepest reaches of the universe where no one could find him.

“As amusing as it would be to see your witless ape try,” Loki drawled, looking over at the guard disdainfully, “I suppose it would be good to stretch my legs a bit.”

“Great. A few precautions – I’m sure you won’t mind.”

Pierce nodded to his escort and the men produced additional chains. As Loki struggled to keep his anger in check, a collar was roughly fastened around his neck by Rumlow, the larger of two guards. A second, less aggressive man hooked a chain to the cuffs binding his wrists. He endured the indignity with a snarl, hope making him less obstinate than he might otherwise have been.

When they had him bound to their satisfaction, Rumlow grabbed his chain with an unnecessary yank and they all proceeded out of the cell. It did feel good to move, and Loki strutted with all the insouciant swagger he could muster, eyes taking in every detail as he walked. Fleetingly, he spared a thought for his lovely doctor, surprised that he regretted not seeing her again. Still, freedom beckoned and he would not deny it.

“So, having difficulty, are you?" he asked cockily as they led him down a windowless hallway. "It should come as no surprise. Such lower creatures as yourselves could never dream of comprehending, much less harnessing the infinite power it contains."

He had to tread carefully, he reminded himself. He was almost there, almost to the prize that would render him free.

They stopped at a door just like all of the other, cold, metallic, and featureless. Pierce stepped forward and a small device Loki had not seen scanned his eye. As the door opened, Loki could just make out the steady blue gleam coming from within.

It was not the tesseract.

The center dropped out of Loki's stomach, and he needed all of his will power not to slump against the wall. There, in some sort of technical cradle on a table in the center of the room, was his scepter. The stone in the head of the weapon shone a beckoning blue, but Loki knew better than trust it's peaceful glow.

"We know you used this to subdue your enemies," Pierce said, giving Loki a hard stare. "Don't think you're getting your hands on it now."

Six burly guards stood around it, guns drawn, presumably to keep him away. They needn't have bothered. Loki had never been more relieved than when the thing had been taken out of his possession. A gift, the Other had told him. A precious gift to lead armies in glorious battle. He had neglected to tell him the rest.

"So, how do we use it?" Pierce demanded.

As he looked at the scepter with loathing, Loki fought the urge to lunge for it. He was surely faster than the men guarding it, and what would they do, shoot him? Others had tried, and it had done them no good. Asgardians, even counterfeit ones born Frost Giants, were made of tougher stuff than that. He could reclaim the scepter, and in a matter of moments all of them would be dead or under his control. He would enjoy coming up with ways to kill them. In his mind he could hear them howling in pain.

And then, when the soldiers and spies surrounding him were writhing in agony, he could go and find his pretty little doctor. She had promised to stay with him until the end. Well, with the scepter making her will his own, she would have no choice but to honor her word. He could enthrall her, make her will his own. That bright smile she had flashed at him, full of lies and deceit, would be made real with one touch of the tip to her heart. Oh, the things he could do to her, with her, then.

No! Loki shook his head to clear it of the seductive malice. Caroline's smiles had not been false. She had looked on him with genuine compassion, had tried to understand him. How could he think of turning that compassion into something twisted and false? It was the mind stone, warped by the venom of Thanos and his minions, planting these thoughts in his head.

"You don't," he said succinctly.

"Unacceptable."

"The scepter holds an infinity stone," he tried to explain as one would to a child, which was all these men were for all their hubris. "It is one of the foundational powers of the universe. In order to wield it, you need a highly disciplined mind, trained to bend it to your will. Even then, it would take you over slowly and inexorably."

"You used it," Rumlow scoffed.

"I am a God," he reminded them. "I have lived and studied for over a thousand years. You are a flea compared to me. For you to even attempt to use this would destroy you. Send it to Asgard and let Odin keep it safe in his vault. Anything else is death."

More so than he was even admitting. Loki knew who would be coming for the stone. These pathetic humans would be no match for the destruction that followed. They thought his invasion with the Chitari had been bad? Thanos would not stop at subjugation. He was not called the Mad Titan for nothing. Loki had heard more of his plans than he could ever wish. When the purple grape was done with them they would beg for Loki's version of mercy.

And he would be coming. There was no stopping Thanos' obsession with the infinity stones. He had only let Loki leave his domain with the Mind Stone in order to secure the second stone locked within the Tesseract, and even then, he had set certain precautions in order. The psychic link that tied Loki to his deadly minion The Other through the stone was doing all it could to reassert control over him.

You wielded power before, the thought in his brain was not his, not originally. You could do so again! Take the scepter! Strike down your enemies. You know you want to. You were born to rule. The scepter can help you do it!

"Alright, let me put it to you this way," Pierce said, smile gone from his face. "Tell me how to access its power, or I will make sure your final days are nothing but pain."

You could cause pain. They are set on making you suffer. Why wait when you can make them suffer first. The power is here for the taking. Grab it! Fulfill your purpose!

"For the love of Valhalla, what are you doing letting my brother in the same room with that thing?"

Seldom in his life had Loki been so happy to hear his brother's voice break into his thoughts. His face was covered in a cold sweat, and his hands shook. Just a few moments more, and he would have done it. The scepter would be in his hands - chains or no, these mortals could not hold him if he truly desired to break free - and everyone else would be dead.

"I'm sorry, Odinson, but this is none of your concern," Pierce told him coldly.

"Not my concern? Loki is my brother and a citizen of Asgard! I clearly heard you threatening him while he is in your custody. On top of that, you put the whole compound in jeopardy by letting him near the scepter."

"It seems you have conflicting narratives there," Pierce replied as Loki caught his breath. "Is your brother a helpless little kitten who needs protection, or a deadly threat who needs to be kept under strict guard?"

"How dare you?" Loki hissed, offense crackling.

"While Loki is hardly an innocent kitten, he is still your prisoner," Thor remonstrated, "and as such entitled to basic humane treatment."

"And more to the point," another voice chimed in as Dr. Thorpe stepped out from behind Thor and glared at Pierce, "he is my patient. I don't appreciate you hauling him off in the middle of an examination."

"Don't forget, Dr., you work for me," Pierce growled.

"No, I don't," Caroline fought back. "I was hired by Director Fury to conduct this debriefing on behalf of Shield. His orders came directly from the President. Now, until I receive word from the White House or the Director, I am going to continue treating my patient in the hopes that we may get to the bottom of why our planet was invaded."

"That's easy," Rumlow sneered, pointing at Loki. "It was invaded because that man has a God complex."

"I am a God, you sniveling worm!"

"Enough!" Thor boomed, lightning flashing about his fingers. "Dr. Thorpe has stated her case. She has been ordered to treat Loki and will continue to do so until that order is belayed by the one who gave it. If any of you need help understanding this, I will gladly explain it to you again, with the assistance of my hammer."

"Fine, take him back to his cell," Pierce said at last, after a long moment of tension. "But we are not done with this, Laufyson. I'll be speaking to you again."

"Oh, I look forward to it," Loki assured him.

"Come on Loki, I am brining you and Dr. Thorpe back to your cell."

With a last smug look around the room, Loki pulled his chain out of Rumlow's grasp and chuckled as the man staggered towards the floor. Holding it himself, he allowed Thor and Caroline to lead him back to the cell, away from the seductive lure of the Mind Stone.

***

Rarely had Caroline felt like such a coward as she did when she fled Loki's cell. She had barely made it halfway to the mess when she began mentally chastising herself for her behavior. Yes, he was being deliberately provocative, flirting so outrageously with her, but that just meant she was on the right track, working her way to whatever it was he was hiding from himself and her. She should have stayed and pressed further. With any other patient she would have. It was just with Loki...

Shaking her head, Caroline smiled wryly. What was it about Loki? He was attractive, that went without saying. In fact, calling him attractive was a gross understatement. The man... the GOD was far and away the most attractive man she had ever met, and that included the blond Adonis who called himself his brother. Still, the good looks were only a piece of the reason she felt so drawn to him. There was a yearning she sensed inside the alien prince. A longing to be loved, to belong, and to have someone see him for who he truly was rather than who he pretended to be. His wit, his charm, his arrogance, all of that combined into a defensive wall designed to keep others from seeing how lost he was beneath it. She desperately wanted to break down that wall, but feared that when she did she would loose all objectivity. Already, she wanted to find and punish all of those others who had hurt him.

By the time she returned to his cell with two plates of food, she had strengthened her resolve. She might not be neutral in this case, but that did not have to be a fault. The patient obviously needed affection, and she could give that to him and still maintain a professional manner. She would show him that kindness was not something he had forfeit with his completely understandable tumble from reason upon learning his life was a lie.

He was not in the cell. The moment she saw it standing empty, guards all missing, Caroline feared the worst. It was possible that he had escaped, but she didn't think so. He was too resigned to his fate, showed no sign that he was invested enough in his own survival to fight. Had Pierce defied his orders and taken him to the raft already? Could Loki, even now, be flying towards his mock trial and certain death?

Tossing aside the food trays, Caroline raced to find the one other person who might care if Loki died. Her hunch was correct, and she found Thor quickly on the deck where troops were practicing combat. Not waiting for a lull, she had thrown herself into the makeshift circle where he and a group of three soldiers were facing off in a sparring match. His reaction was comical, if she had been in the mood for humor, throwing himself between her and the advancing men, acting as a living shield as he quickly and without finesse punched all three of them to the ground.

"Doctor Thorpe," he asked, looking at her with grave concern, "what has caused you to so disregard your own safety? Has Loki done something to upset you?"

"No!" she replied, breathless from her mad dash. "Loki is missing!"

"What? He escaped?"

"I don't think so. I just went to his cell and it is empty. I think they might be taking him to the raft, and I haven't had time..."

"Come with me," he ordered, voice stern with anger. "We will find him."

"Thank you!"

As she ran to keep up, Thor marched down the hallway, interrogating everyone they passed on the whereabouts of both his brother and Pierce.

"I was promised that if I turned him over to the authorities here, he would be afforded a thorough examination before being taken to trial," Thor growled as they walked. "If I find out they have broken their word, I will free him myself!"

"Thank you," she panted, jogging along. "I just went to get food and he was gone when I came back."

"Pierce? Where?" he snarled at an unfortunate scientist who happened to be in their path.

"Down the hall," the man said, wincing back from the towering fury. "Room 506."

When they reached the room in question, the door was open. Inside, Loki stood wrapped in a ridiculous number of chains. Secretary Pierce and a number of men were all there as well, and in the middle of the room was a glowing scepter that she had seen Loki carrying in numerous photos and videos from his invasion. His eyes as he looked at the weapon betrayed unspeakable horror. It looked as though he was alone in the room with the spear, all of his energy directed its way. His lips were twisted into a menacing sneer, and a sheen of perspiration coated his handsome face.

"For the love of Valhalla, what are you doing letting my brother in the same room with that thing?"

A wave of relief washed over Loki's face as Thor's voice boomed into the silence, and it was as if a malevolent cloud lifted from him. Caroline watched him as Thor and Pierce traded words, and it seemed to her that he was almost ready to collapse. Siezing control in this room full of trained men who could kill her in a moment, Caroline put on her most professional voice and demanded that Loki be returned to her care. She didn't know how she had the nerve to stare all of them down, but when laid in the balance against whatever obvious trauma her patient was currently experiencing, she would allow nothing and no one to stand in her way.

It was with gratifying speed that she soon had Loki back into the glass room, seated on his bench and looking like a lost little boy. Now that the hostile men were all behind the soundproof barrier, his shoulders were slumped and his eyes sunken. She did not know what it was that had just happened to him, but she would be damned if she let them take him away before she found out.

#Loki #Loki Fan Fic #Loki/OFC #Therapy #Trauma #Loki needs a hug #post Avengers Assemble #Angst #talk of suicidal thoughts in previous chapters #Mention of torture #mention of mind control #eventual romance #infinity stones #someone help him please

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter two ⭐︎ I want you to notice, when I'm not around

Warnings: angst! mean!Steve, unrequited feelings, one sided feelings, mentions of Steve being in love with Nancy, mentions of death, allusions to suicidal thoughts, mentions of weed and alcohol

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

Author's note: I promise, it's gonna get so much better soon, get ready for some much more angst in the next chapter, it's gonna hurt. @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me as always, you're the bestest!!!

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next chapter

♡

The living room is crowded, at least it seems that way to you. You aren’t used to being around so many people. You didn’t want to come here, but you had no choice when both Eddie and Robin had showed up at your house earlier today and practically forced you out of the house.

Now you sit here, sinking deeper and deeper into Steve Harrington’s couch, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. You’re playing with the loose string on the hem of your shirt as you look around the room. Robin is snacking on the m&m’s Eddie had brought as she’s looking through the pictures Jonathan had taken of her and Nancy just now. Eddie is out on the patio, smoking a cigarette and talking to Argyle who will leave for California in two days. Jonathan is staring at the screen watching some music video that is playing on the MTV channel, his pupils are blown and his eyes seem heavy, he is high out of his mind and for once, Nancy doesn’t seem to care, with her legs thrown over his thigh, she’s sipping on the beer that Steve handed to her a few minutes back, she is talking to Robin, unaware of the set of eyes on her. 

You restrain the eye roll as you look at him. 

Steve is sitting on the same couch you do, though with a big distance, you sit at one end and he on the other, far far away from you. You know he doesn’t want you here, you saw the look on his face when Eddie had dragged you into his house, a wave of something had washed over his face, something unpleasant, like he wanted to scrunch his face up in disgust at the sight of you – his mind had already erased your little moment at the Sinclair house, last week. Now you are back to normal. He made a comment, you made a comment and now you both sit there, avoiding each other like the plague. 

Secretly, you watch him though. 

Like you always do. 

And what you are seeing now, only fuels your annoyance and your wish to go home. 

The smile on his face that could never be directed at you, is directed at her. The love and the longing in his eyes that always lingers when she is around. She who had stolen his heart from the very first moment they saw each other. She who had always kept his heart even when she left him for the one she is smiling at now. She who will always be the one he will look at. 

You thought that he was over it, you thought that he was over her. But you were a little blind and maybe he was too when he told Robin that he was over her. He never was, he never will be. You saw the way he looked at her when she patched him up after he was attacked. You saw the way he looked at her in the RV. You heard the things he said to her, how he talked about his dreams that he surely saw her in by his side. 

You also heard the things he said about you when he thought that you were sleeping. You still remember how gut wrenching it felt to hear him say things about you to his ex-girlfriend. 

You huff in silence when his lips curl into a smile and his eyes light up when Nancy throws her head back in laughter. 

God, why are you even here? 

Eddie falls into the seat next to you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. It feels as though a cloud of smoke had followed him because suddenly, the smell of snacks, fresh air and beer is replaced by it, along with the smell of his cologne.

Right. You’re here because of him. You don’t know why he feels the urge to drag you along to every group hang out. No one wants you around, you don’t even think that Robin wants you here, she barely talked to you since you came here. And the longer you sit in Steve’s living room, with an untouched can of coke on the table in front of you, surrounded by people who most likely cannot stand you or your presence, you wish more and more that Jason should have dragged you down with him. 

You don’t belong here, you don’t belong anywhere. 

Eddie takes a look around before he turns to you, the smile still lingering, though turning into a softer one when he notices the frown on your face. 

“What’s wrong, sweets?” 

You shake your head a little, trying to give him a smile, “nothing.” 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, whispering. 

You wonder if that is the reason why he always wants you around, so he can keep checking up on you, so he can make sure that you are okay, that you are still alive and not lying in some ditch after pushing yourself a little too hard while still recovering from surgery. 

Does he care so much because he knows that no one else would? 

Or does he feel like he owes you something because you helped him when it wasn’t even asked of you? 

You nod, “yeah, I just don’t know why I’m here,” you whisper to him, subtly gesturing to this tight friend group that you don’t fit into. 

Eddie is new to this as well, but unlike you, he’s open and friendly with everyone. He surely isn’t as cheerful as he was weeks back. Just like you, he is still recovering, hiding his inner scars from the face of the earth but still, he is trying. Trying to fit into this, and for him, it’s working, for you? Not so much. 

“Well, you’re here because of me,” he grins, tapping your shoulder. 

You huff but smile, looking down at your hands. 

Yeah, you wouldn’t be here otherwise. 

Had you not gone on a walk that one afternoon a few weeks back, you would have never ran into him. Eddie who had been a wanted man at that time, Eddie who was hiding at skull rock, in drenched clothes and with clattering teeth as he shivered like crazy. You remember how scared he looked when you saw him, how he thought that you would rat him out because at that time, you were nothing but acquaintances to each other. – You bought from him a few times but that was all. He always tried to make small talk, throw a few jokes at you, but at that time, he barely got you to laugh. 

You didn’t believe the rumors on the news, not even for a second, not even when Chrissy used to be a close friend of yours. 

You decided to help him, not knowing what else you were getting yourself into, not knowing that it wasn’t just him involved in a world you hadn’t known of yet, at that time. You got him dry clothes, food and the walkie talkie he had begged you for. 

You never expected Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson to show up moments later, though. And least of all, you hadn’t expected Max there. It felt like a surreal dream the moment they started explaining everything to you. The moment you found out the truth about Starcourt, about all the deaths in this town, about the lab, about Henry. 

You had only been allowed to be a part of it because of Max, because of your friendship with the girl you had grown protective of, because she let you help. 

The night in the upside down, the night at the Creel house led you here, into this friend group, into Steve’s house where you certainly don’t belong. 

You don’t know what that nagging yet empty feeling in your chest is, if it’s the trauma that is slowly catching up to you or if it’s from watching him watch her, or if you’re just simply having a bad day but it’s making you feel sick and restless, you want the ground to swallow you up. 

You muster up your greatest smile and flash it at Eddie, “yeah, cause you’re my very best friend.”

He snorts at you, hearing the sarcasm in your voice. 

“Your only best friend is Red.” 

You smile at his nickname for Max. 

“Hey Chica, do you wanna smoke this with me?” 

You don’t even pay attention or look up, not until Eddie chuckles and nudges your shoulder, raising his eyebrows at you to look up and when you do, you find Argyle looking at you with a dopey smile on his face as he holds up a blunt to you. 

Without thinking, you get up with a smile on your lips, “is that even a question?” 

It’s been a long time since you have had anything other than medication in your system, you are in dire need of something that will ease your mind and make you feel more than what you are feeling today. 

You fail to notice the disapproving look on Steve’s face, the way he tensely straightens up, slowly getting up as his brows knit together, more and more, watching in disbelief how you make your way over to Argyle. 

“What the hell, Blondie!?” 

His raised voice startles everyone in the room. Robin looks up from the polaroids in her hands, glancing up at her best friend who is staring at you with angry eyes. Nancy and Jonathan turn to look at Steve before they turn to look at what he is glaring at – or who he is glaring at. 

Argyle and Eddie turn to Steve with confusion on their faces. 

And you, you halt in your tracks, and turn back slowly. Caught off guard by the intense look on his face, you freeze. 

“Are you crazy?” 

You open your mouth to speak, though you shut your mouth again when you realize that these words aren’t directed at you, they’re directed at Argyle. 

“She can’t smoke or drink! Her doctor said it loud and clear, and I warned you before!” He points at him. 

You’re taken aback by his anger, by his words. The fact that he remembered when even you, yourself have forgotten about it. You hate the way your heart flutters at that, you hate the way it makes your stomach feel all tingly. You know that it doesn’t mean anything, just because he remembered. 

You see the way Argyle’s face drops and the way he smacks himself on his forehead, “I forgot, I’m sorry, man,” he looks at you, pulling away the blunt he was just about to give to you. “Sorry, he told me… I wasn’t thinking.” He whispers, a little uncomfortably as a funny look takes over his face. 

Steve warned him? 

“Dude, I forgot too, don’t worry about it,” you pat his arm, giving him an apologetic smile. “Don’t mind mother hen over there, he’s overreacting as always.” You say as though you don’t feel your heart racing over Steve’s outburst. 

“And you.” 

You instantly turn to face him, just like everyone else in the room who watches the scene unfold with curiosity and confusion on their faces. 

You meet his hazel eyes, the ones that are still raging. 

“Stop being so fucking careless!” He snaps, pointing his finger at you now. “You’re getting on my goddamn nerves.” 

He places his hands back on his hips, huffing loudly. 

Your cheeks flush under his gaze, you can feel them burning, your heart beating faster and faster. You don’t know how to feel but all you can think about now is the look in his eyes when he realized that he hurt you back at Lucas’s place the other day, the words he had said to you. 

Despite the giddiness inside of you, you hide your feelings behind a smirk. 

“Wow, you do worry about me, Harrington. You weren’t lying.” 

He squints his eyes at you, nodding at your words with another huff. He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. 

Everyone is looking between the two of you, waiting for the bickering to start, the way it always does, but Steve manages to bite his tongue. 

And you surprise the others by holding back your little remarks. 

“And fucking relax, leave Argyle alone, he isn’t responsible for me and neither are you, Lego head. Go and get high, you need to calm down.” 

Jonathan snorts at the nickname, he throws his head back, chuckling loudly as he mumbles ‘Lego head’. Argyle, who already had one too many drags of the blunt he passed around before, is barely holding himself together, threatening to burst into laughter too. 

Steve shoots Jonathan a glare, pointing at him to shut up. 

Nancy looks down, pressing her lips together with an amused look in her eyes. 

Eddie drinks his beer, hiding the smirk behind the can, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Sit your ass down, Blondie and drink your goddamn coke, don’t even think about weed or–”

“No weed, no beer, just fucking coca cola, got it, mom,” you roll your eyes at him and slump back in your previous seat, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He sighs loudly, sitting back down as well, he crosses his legs, giving you the side eye. 

“Goddamn brat,” he mumbles under his breath. 

“I heard that.” 

“Good,” he snaps at you. 

There is no tension in the room, not even awkwardness after this weird moment. If anything, everyone is still amused. 

“Always bickering like an old married couple,” Eddie snickers. 

Steve glares at him, and you, you would have dug your elbow into his side, but he is wounded and still healing. The band aids on his neck are the evidence that they are still bad. He is hiding him, and you wonder if he always will, you ask yourself if he will hide his pain the way you hide yours. 

You don’t even notice that Robin left the room, only when everyone moves on from what just happened and chatter fills the space again, do you take a look around. You furrow your brows when you find her spot empty. 

Argyle and Jonathan leave the room, stepping out into the garden with Nancy following close behind. 

“Are you still in for tomorrow?” You hear Eddie, directing his question at Steve. 

“Yeah, sure.”

You don’t bother to ask and find out what their plans are. 

Robin walks back into her room, with something in her hand. Her eyes are aimed at you, a smile on her lips when she walks towards you. She hands you a drink, a diet pepsi. 

“Here.” 

Your lips part as you stare at the can for a long moment, blinking. You tilt your chin up, looking up at her with big eyes. 

Her smile falls and a frown takes over, “shit, I thought you liked diet pepsi? Was it original?” 

You shake your head at her, taking the can from her hand, “n-no, it’s diet pepsi.” 

She paid attention to you. 

She smiles at you. 

She felt bad watching you sit there and being unable to drink beer or smoke weed with the others. And she remembers that you always asked for pepsi when you were still in the hospital, you hated the teas there and despised the fact that you were only allowed water. 

“I thought you liked coke, Blondie.”

Robin rolls her eyes at Steve. 

“It’s not my favorite,” you shrug, turning to look at him. “I prefer pepsi.” 

He squints his eyes at you, “so when you stole my coke the other day, you did it just to–”

“Get back at you, yeah. Cause you stole my coffee.” 

“When did he steal your coffee?” Robin asks. 

“When I came to family video to rent a movie–”

“Oh, you little liar,” Steve scoffs at you, “she did not rent a movie, she didn’t even come to look for one.”

A smirk tugs at your lips, if there’s something that you love more than the drink in your hand, it’s to get on his nerves. 

“Says who? I really wanted one but the customer service sucks when this one isn’t around,” you point at Robin. 

Eddie chuckles, turning to look at Steve who is glaring at you, before a smirk appears on his face, his hazel eyes twinkling with smugness. 

“You and I both know that you didn’t want to rent a movie, honey. You were there because you wanted to see me,” he says, cockily as he lets his eyes move from your face, down to your body and back up to meet your eyes. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the way he just looked at you. You don’t squirm in your seat, but you surely would if the others weren’t around. You grow flustered beneath his stare but you have come to learn how to hide it – Steve Harrington will never see you blushing over him. 

Maybe he was right, maybe you did just want to see him, because you always do, you always want to see him. No matter how much he hates you, no matter how much he despises you, you can’t help but want him, even if you continue to lie about it to yourself to stay sane. 

Steve Harrington had always been your demise – from the first glance. 

You couldn’t help but grow fascinated with him, watching him from afar with eyes the shape of your favorite sunglasses. You couldn’t help but care for him, even when he couldn’t stand you. 

Sometimes you feel like a creep, watching him and adoring everything about him, from his sun kissed skin, to his beautiful eyes, to his perfect hair, to that one smile that he blesses only those around him that he cares about – something that you will never get. 

Sometimes it’s hard to look into his eyes because every time you do look for a little too long, you feel like dying because suddenly, you see the world with different eyes, you see something beautiful, because he is in it and when you look away, when he is gone, it feels anything but.

Steve wouldn’t even bat an eye if you were gone. He wouldn’t even notice if you weren’t around. 

Suddenly, you feel overwhelmed by the way he looks at you, by his presence, by all of this. You are in his space, you are invading, his home, his friend group, his safe place. The reminder of it, that you don’t belong here, lies heavy on your heart and you feel the urge to run away but you cannot give yourself away so easily, knowing that it would be awfully noticeable if you suddenly left after what he just said. 

So you put on a mask, the way you always do. 

“If that helps you sleep at night,” you smirk, tilting your head at him, “I mean no one else would come to see you, I took pity on you.” 

He clenches his jaw, his smirk falling into a frown. 

“Keep your pity to yourself, Blondie. I’d rather never see you again than see you when I don’t have to.”

You know how he feels about you, you know what he thinks of you, yet every single insult, every jab at you feels like a punch to your gut. But this, this was a punch to your heart. 

You know he wouldn’t grieve you if you died at the Creel house, but to know that he might have felt relieved to never having to see you again, hurts you more than you want to admit. 

“What the hell, man?” Eddie snaps at him as his brown eyes fill with anger at his words. 

Robin rolls her eyes, shaking her head at Steve in disappointment. 

But he keeps his eyes on you, struggling to read you, struggling to look past that smirk that is still going strong. 

“Well, I’ll put you out of your misery, Lego head,” you say as you place the drink on the table before you get up. 

Robin furrows her brows, looking you up and down, “what are you doing?” 

“I’m leaving.” You try not to sound bitter or hurt. “I’m getting tired and I forgot my meds at home.” 

Steve looks away from you, feeling a rush of guilt. 

“I’ll drive you–”

You cut Eddie off, shaking your head at him, “no, I’m gonna walk, I need some fresh air.”

Eddie looks at you worriedly, “sweets, I don’t want you to walk by yourself.”

“Eddie, I’m okay, I don’t get dizzy anymore,” you say, trying to smile at him. “I promise, I’ll call you later tonight.” 

He still looks unsure, not wanting to let you go like this. 

But he can tell that you want to be alone, right now, so despite his worry, he leans back again and nods begrudgingly. 

“Okay..” 

You walk out of the room, biting back the bitterness on your tongue, trying to swallow down the pain. You rush through the hallway and open the door, you only manage to take one step out before you hear footsteps behind you. 

You roll your eyes, knowing that Eddie being the stubborn guy that he is will try to convince you to stay, but when you turn around, it’s not Eddie’s brown eyes that you find yourself looking into, it’s Steve’s and it catches you off guard a little. 

He stops in front of you, his eyes scan your face and he huffs a little when he runs his fingers through his hair. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’s guilt and worry in his eyes. 

You hold onto the door, ready to escape whatever pain he will put you through again.

“Listen uh, that was mean,” he starts, now struggling to look into your eyes. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, tugging at his hair. “I shouldn’t have said that.” 

You blink.

You swallow as you keep on looking at him with smugness, to hide the pain. 

“It’s okay, no need to hide the truth from me, you were just saying what you were feeling, right?” 

He opens his eyes and when he faces you again, he looks at you, really looks at you. He tries to find a hint of pain in your features or hurt in your eyes, but there is nothing. All he can see is the coldness in them. 

Nothing he could ever do or say would hurt you – at least, that is what he believes, what he always believed. 

“Right.” 

You bite the insides of your cheeks. 

“Good,” you nod and you tear your eyes away from him, unable to look at him any longer as you feel your heart cracking more and more.

“Y-You don’t have to go, Blondie.” He stops you once again, holding himself back from taking your hand. 

You slowly turn around and he still struggles to read you, even when you stop smirking, even when you only look at him with a straight face, not saying anything back. 

“But if you want to leave, no one’s gonna stop you.”

You see the indifference in his eyes, the coldness that is only there when he looks at you. 

Yeah, you know no one would. 

How can you care so much about someone that cares so little about you? 

How can you want him so bad when all he wants for you is to disappear? 

How can he worry one second and hate you in the other? 

How can you long for him after every hurtful thing that he said to you? 

You take a step away from him, blinking as you feel your eyes starting to burn. 

“Bye, Steve.” 

You turn around before he can even open his mouth, and you slam the door shut behind you because you don’t want to hear his voice. 

You walk away with tears in your eyes. 

You wish you didn’t come here today, every moment spent with him makes you want him even more, makes you hate yourself even more. 

You don’t go home, no, you can’t stand to be in a house that resembles nothing but loss. 

You turn the other way, towards Hawkins cemetery. 

You just need to vent. 

Even if only into the void. 

♡

tagging only friends & mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @livosssblog

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things angst

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.63)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: you never thought that just cuddling with Hobi on a cold day could lead to this; his pants off and you begging "Daisy please-"

Tags: fluff, a little hurt but mostly just comfort, first times, soft cuddle sex, unintentional mutual somnophilia, knotting, scenting, under clarified limits, a touch of slick kink, breeding kink, a touch of size kink (you know the good stuff), unrealistic amounts of cum, implied belly bulge, implied feral sex, small triggers after sex, small references to past abusive relationships, hole check's, knot checks, dom/sub undertones to later scenes but not in the main smut,

W/c: 14.2k

A/n: thank you guys for being patient for this next chapter :) it's one of my favorites so please give it lots of love! i know we've all been waiting for hobi's confession and the completion of their arc, did i do it justice? Also i'm sorry that i have a pathological need to end every single chapter with a cliffhanger lol, this one is no different!

Previous part ~ Masterlist

(5 years ago. Before Yoongi. Before everyone.)

Jung Hoseok cleans his arms in a bathroom. He is 21 years old, there is lipstick on his fingers, and nothing bad has happened to him yet.

Bad is all relative of course. Some would call growing up in a rich area while living in a one-bedroom apartment bad. Some people would call not really knowing your parents because they work late nights bad. Some would even say that the fact that they won’t pay for Hoseok’s college education a fucking tragedy.

But between you and me and Hoseok; other people wouldn't know a fucking tragedy if it hit them in the fucking face. Talking to some people about your suffering is like trying to make a toddler shoot the broad side of a god damn barn with a double barrel shotgun. Or like those little lemon slices they put in the water at olive garden-

It's fucking useless. And you're more likely to be sent to the hospital than get some actual fucking results. Weather it's because of food poisoning, a bullet wound, or because some idiot you trusted thinks you're a god damn suicide risk.

See right? Talking about your problems is fucking useless.

But he’s always been able to focus on the brighter side of things. It's a blessing and a curse because optimism always lies to you. It's easier to be happy than it is to be upset, at least for Hoseok at this moment.

At least he was an optimist until they ruined him a little. After this year, finding the silver will take effort.

The tiles beneath his feet are cold to the touch. He knows that there’s a button somewhere to turn on the heated flooring but he just can’t find it. Hidden and unfamiliar as he is with this den. So different from his own little dormitory halfway across the city.

This fancy three-bedroom apartment is one that he will move into in precisely 4 months once they make it official, he’ll live here for exactly 2 years 3 months, and 8 days before being kicked out and moving into the pack's den. It’s exactly 2 years to the date that he meets Min Yoongi in the record store.

But nothing bad has happened to him yet. Today he is just himself, No idea of what's about to befall him and that It won't just be bad.

This apartment is upscale, with its wainscotting and long gauzy curtains that barely keep out the sound of the city streets 5 stories below and the lightly warm June morning. He’s not quite sure who pays for this one yet. Hasn’t had the chance to ask, he's only been seeing this pack for 2 months. This Hoseok is shyer than the one you know. Timid and unsure of where he should place his dulled claws.

It's all awfully mysterious. The question of "What do your parents do?" and the answer pressed to a raised finger. The truth lingering between lipstick and manicure on a single giggled breath.

"That's a secret"

He casts a glance around the bathroom, the marble counters, the plush hand towels, and even the designer soap is forghein to him.

Rich people.

It's one part tired jealousy and one part true distaste. Even if Hoseok had all the money in the world he wouldn't waste it on painting a bathroom white or powdery Dior soap. Why not blue or orange or green or pink?

(Oh Hobi. The pack’s bathroom will be green one day, with delicate tiles in the shade of the lightest moss. Not yellow-toned and not blue. he's going to help yoongi pick it out, He just doesn’t know it yet).

Their apartment is just a few blocks from the college that he attends, a freshman but not for much longer. A freshman, along with the pack's youngest. Her on the business track and him in a weed-out art department. The prerequisite humanities course is their shared battleground.

Out of everything in this story, this is the only true coincidence.

This version of Hoseok likes omegas with a bit of a dark side. The ones that are a bit bitchy, a bit entitled and alot pretty. The ones that hone their eyeliner to a vicious edge, or the male ones that act a little bit more like alphas and disobey gender norms. That’s what drew his eye to this pack's youngest in their hum 1 class.

He got a little melty when her eyes turned less “I’ll kill you if you even sniff in my direction” and more “A pretty alpha like you has to have a pack right?”

Hoseok had stuttered when he’d said that No- he didn’t.

Before long he’ll drop out because he just can’t cut it at art school. Just can’t spend nights with fingers black from charcoal, working on things that will one day be thrown in the garbage because he’ll have a pack to attend to. Good alpha that he is.

(It will be years before he realizes that it wasn't art school just mediums. He’s meant to use flowers to make things instead.)

They’re not his pack yet, not yet. not yet. Not Yet- But there is a gift waiting for him downstairs. A fancy set of pastels and paints. It’s the start of courting even though he’s supposed to be the one buying them gifts. He’s the penniless college student they’re the ones with the nice apartment. He’s the one with the knot, and they’re all omegas. It’s a give-and-take.

Yet somehow even though he’ll be the only alpha he knows he won’t be the pack alpha.

He cleans the lipstick from his fingers. Bright red. He knows he has it in other places too, down below the tugged low hemline of his pants pulled on after they were done fucking.

The last thing he wants to be is like the other alphas in the fraternities on campus, the ones that holler at all the omegas shit like “I can taste your slick from here baby,” and “want to study anatomy together? I’m a hands-on learner” Hobi dreads the idea that he might be like that. Even a little bit. Even unintentionally.

But still, their words from earlier ring in his ears.

“They haven’t been dating for that long, you can’t expect us to be comfortable all the time with you in our nest, it's a really intimate thing for us."

Hobi feels like one of those phraternity alphas when it makes him uncomfortable.

It’s reasonable that they wanted to give his knot a ride and try him out before they make it official. One alpha and four omegas, these odds are every alpha’s wet dream. He knows his performance was Oscar-worthy.

It had been nice to be in a nest for just a little bit, Hoseok’s biology wants it, the tense knot between his shoulders all loose.

Hoseok has never been loved by someone who wanted to talk to him every day, it will be easy for them to reduce his focus to their beck and call.

There's 4 different colors of lipstick on his cock. Four different shades from four different women. His new packmates get to the carrot part of the carrot and stick arrangement.

In the future, he’ll deny that he ever thought of any of these women as that- as packmates. He'll say it was only ever Namjoon’s pack that he wanted in this way. He’ll say it never compared and it didn’t. Except for these first few months. These first few days.

Memories lie to us all the time; memory is the best secret keeper.

He watches one of his packmates sit on the edge of the nest, she wears the lipstick prints better than he does. Lining the inside of her thighs, her own lips smudged.

Hoseok doesn’t let the smile fall from his lips and she smiles back. She tugs her long hair free of a bun that she’d put it up in so that she didn’t get slick in it. It will be a few more months until she cuts it above her collarbones. Blunt to a brutal edge.

Hoseok’s sweatshirt is on the edge of the nest, and Hoseok watches as she brings it to her nose, breathing in deep. Hoseok is just about to say that she can wear it when she throws it onto a nearby ottoman. Not onto the floor thankfully. No omega has ever worn his sweatshirt before. Hoseok tries not to let the rejection of his scent sting.

She looks at the lipstick on Hoseok, there’s a bit on his lip. “Come here.” She asks, parting her legs.

Hoseok is a good alpha and goes.

~-~

(Now, You and Hobi)

When Hobi wakes it's because the pack is moving around the room, bickering, and struggling to be quiet, bickering a little.

Their low hum drum voices as they talk about “Jungkookie? where did you put my mittens?” and ”I sort of love that you still wear mittens, babe.” Yoongi’s deep rumble, “Did Jimin buy those for you too?” All teasing and understanding. Because if anyone knows how Tae likes to be teased, Yoongi does.

Tae’s fond little croon is so melodic it makes Hobi sigh, ears straining to hear more of it. “Yes, he did. Got pup matching ones too.”

Pup. that’s you. Curled in the center of the nest under Hobi's elbows. dozing but unable to lift your head from where it's pillowed. You’re sure that Yoongi knows you’re kind of awake or at least listening in because Yoongi knows everything.

You’re sure that as he looks down at you and Hobi tangled together, he’s doing it with a smirk. You don’t need to open your eyes and double-check.

The temperature of the nest is balmy, overly warm in the way that it gets when it’s cold outside and the nesting is hitting so particularly good that Hobi won’t even think of moving. (The way it feels when you come out of the cold and into the waiting arms of someone you love) Hobi nuzzles into the warmth in front of him.

A small storm brews outside. The snow has been falling since midday. Just a little here and there. But Tae loves how it looks with all the Christmas lights. There aren’t quite enough up yet but the holiday season is close.

But the snow won't last, soon it won’t be falling at all. It will all melt off by tonight, the afternoon is supposed to be sunny. Can sun showers happen with snow?

"Do you think we could walk all the way to the gym, it's not all that far! only like 10 miles. We could run it in like an hour!"

He listens to the others talk. The sound of Yoongi’s voice, gravely and vaguely upset. “Jungkook, you’re not really thinking about going to work out right now- You’ve barely been home for like 5 hours. I just said we could go do something not run 10 fucking miles.”

Jungkook always gets this way; when the dizziness of the seizures turns to restlessness and he's honestly fine but the others can't resist trying to baby him. Too awake to sleep anymore. He sounds grumpy, whiney, and pouty even though Hobi's eyes aren't open to see him turn his puppy eyes on Yoongi. “I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight if I don’t hyung- I’m gonna go crazy.”

There’s the faint sound of lips meeting and smacking. Kisses that are probably meant to soothe Jungkook. “How about we compromise pup.”

“A walk?” Tae offers, sounding hopeful.

“A long walk.”

You shift a little and Hoseok opens his eyes. You're mostly still asleep just settling, making yourself more comfortable with the new space no longer corralled by arms and bodies.

Hobi’s mouth is dry when he watches you shift onto your stomach your face half-smushed into the cushions, scenting them a little in your sleep. The homey scent fizzle in Hoseok’s bones tells him that you've scented him too. Being surrounded by the pack's scent like this makes Hobi’s skin feel like pop rocks. Like his bones are mentos and coca cola. All sensitive and tingly.

He’s cuddled with you before- through your nightmares and last night at the hospital of course- but it’s never been just the two of you in a nest. He’s never been the only alpha here, charged with guarding the pillows and blankets and you curled soft in the center.

Hobi tentatively puts an arm around your waist, tugging you a little closer. The house still hasn't totally warmed up yet and you'd be cold without some body heat. He does it slowly, seeing if you’ll wake.

There is a hand in his hair, petting softly, and he snatches his arm from around your waist the second Hoseok realizes he's being watched. Yoongi leans over the edge of the couch-turned-nest, smirking a little. The door shuts behind Tae and Jungkook with a puff of cold air, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

He would look intimidating if his beanie didn't have cat ears. 

The pads of Yoongi's fingers rub soothing circles under Hobi's jaw and his lips part unintentionally. “Be good yeah?” he says, whisper soft. Hoseok just nods, too sleepy to verbally respond.

They haven’t talked much about Hobi’s confession; that night on the beach what feels like ages ago. But everytime he thinks of it Hobi still tastes salt on his tongue and your name on his lips. 

Yoongi’s wearing the same look now that he did then; half hopeful and half worried. But if there was anyone that would object on your behalf, if Hobi wasn't allowed this closeness with you, Yoongi would tell him.

Yoongi doesn't say that you and him aren't ready for cuddling like this. Yoongi doesn't say that Hoseok should give you space or not cradle you to his chest like you are something as fragile and necessary and as doomed as his beating heart. Trembling and stuttering with the force of sweet expectations and hopes made hollow with satisfaction.

Yoongi does not realize that Hoseok's heart has not had a steady beat since he woke up holding you.

Yoongi doesn't say anything. Yoongi just drags a single knuckle down his cheek and leaves. Heading out after Tae and Jungkook who are, judging from the hallow sound of snow hitting the windows- are having a snowball fight.

“If one of those hits me I’m not holding anyone’s hand for the whole walk-“

The door keeps out the sound of Tae's sweet giggles and Jungkook’s pouted, "just one hyung- I won't hit your face-" 

And the two of you are alone. Wrapped up warm, quiet and hushed, just the two of you.

Well, except for Noodle.

The meticulously kept edge of the nest is all fluffed, Noodle makes sure of it. Small paws depressing the blanket as he kneads it and then settles on the edge. His purr is audible from here as he blinks slowly from the bottom of the couch turned nest. Jin wrangled him for a brushing yesterday morning and his coat still looks extra fluffy and kempt. 

Unwatched and unjudged, Hobi tentatively reaches to cradle your ribs again. Thumb smoothing down the center of your stomach, a little close to your belly button. You’ve got a little hair there. Hobi’s fingers like the feel of it. Not rough but not silky.

Your skin feels like champagne bubbles and sparklers, everywhere he touches your skin goes fizzy. Hobi looks down at you, breath hitching, and thinks Is it really so horrible to want this? Why am I so afraid of this? 

You wiggle a little closer in your sleep and Hobi’s arm goes vicelike.

Noodle's purr goes a little louder. 

Hobi doesn’t like to think about his last pack ever, but he recognizes that hollow ache and tug that says memories aren’t too far behind. And it threatens to swallow him until he looks down at you. The house is quiet but your eyebrows are puffed up like something very shocking is happening in your dreams. He doesn't want to think about them right now. 

He drags his nose across your hairline; scenting you. Tasting your emotions on his tongue. Comfort. Ease. Arousal-sweet. Not all that abnormal. Not nightmares then. He is always on the lookout for them. After Jungkook and the hospital, he sort of thought they might come back. 

Hoseok counts his stars and snowflakes, and rests his forehead against the nape of your neck.

Over the next hour, you’re restless. Moving, worming your way closer to him as he goes in and out of sleep. You make a soft noise and he shushes you. a growl that says to stay put and alpha's here.

You blink slowly up at him. Hobi pulls back, taking his arm from around your waist, feeling like he’s just stolen candy from a jar on the counter that’s for him anyway. You stretch and don't comment on it, yawning. 

Noodle hops closer, squirming between the two of you and stepping over your shoulders. Meowing right in Hoseok’s face. “Alright alright, I’ll feed you again.”

You snuggle into the warm hallow he left on the couch when he detangles himself, hand under your cheek watching him as he stumbles out of the nest. Noodle follows tail held high. It's truly horrible. Leaving the nest when every bit of Hobi's body wants him to stay in the warmth. The house is always so slow to warm up. 

“Fuck the floors are cold.”

“Quick,” you say, face above the edge of the cover. Hoseok rushes, doling out a single scoop of dry food and then running back to you. Hobi wastes precious seconds to grab his headphones from the kitchen table before collapsing onto the couch where you hold the blanket up, sealing the warmth and him back inside. The headphones tangle between the two of you and he falls with a giggle. Disappearing among the white blanket. He sinks thankfully into the warmth, into the safety that the nest offers. Into you.

Your warm arms wrap around his shoulders and his body shivers delightfully in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. Your jaw pops when you yawn and then he yawns too, a breath later. You laugh too and tuck your face into his shoulder.

“Fuck- it’s so cozy.”

It really is, the kind of cozy that only comes along a few times a year. A quiet to your bones that says there is nothing to do now but rest. The coldness that turns your bodies into these molten-loving things. Your warmth and Hoseok’s warmth. One warmth.

He breathes, deep and heavy.

“I don’t know if I want to get up yet.” The house is still quiet. Nothing but Noodles happy munching sounds and the faint scratch of big snowflakes hitting the windows.

Hobi’s heart beats frantic against yours and you sigh. “Wanna listen to some music?” He offers. Hobi always loves a backtrack, a little compliment for the exposition.

You nod, a little sleepy, but Hobi has a playlist for that. He’s got a playlist for everything including ’sleepy cozy pup time’. The headphones take a second to locate, lost in the nest. But when he does you share them. One earphone a piece, the sound turned low so you can still talk.

Hobi puts on a love song, and it makes you smell all sweet. Stretched out with your hair tangling because you’ve left it unbound, the split ends prodding at Hobi’s cheeks. He doesn’t really listen to the song, just watches you. Eyes closed humming softly.

Your scent sours and Hoseok's hand goes tight on your wrist. You tell him what's bothering you without him even having to ask.

“I saw this line the other day that didn't like." You look at the ceiling, not at him. "it said a love song is really good if you can’t tell whether they’re talking about another person or if they’re talking about god.”

You think about Jimin and Tae. You've been thinking about it since Tae talked about their childhood earlier and the bloody cross between the two of them. If holiness does exist, it’s in Tae. If there is anything like religion for you or Jimin, it's love. God has nothing to do with it. God's not the person who makes love songs sound good.

Hobi turns on his side, leaning on his elbow. “I’m not sure Jimin would agree with that either.”

You turn in time to see Hobi’s smile. It catches the sunlight, lingering right on his cheek. An octagonal shaft of sunlight that has traveled millions of miles to get there could not have found a more beautiful place to fall. He huffs a quiet laugh again, and you swear you might hear the highest note of a piano somewhere.

You wonder when he became so musical to you, maybe it’s just because he’s the person who made you love music so much.

(You can tell a love song is good, when it makes you think of Hobi).

“You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?” You rest your lips against his shoulder and Hobi’s body doesn’t move an inch. They’re soft where they lie not a kiss but not not a kiss either. You can rest your lips against his skin, you can rest your whole body and Hoseok wouldn't move an inch.

“Always worried, got to worry about Minnie. Always worried about everyone.” You mumble. Eyes closing.

The light comes through the windows all honey yellow, turning the bookshelves that Yoongi made gold instead of white. Turns the tops of Hobi’s hair a little red too, the brown has endless depths in the sunlight all burnt umber and Sienna where the sun hits, yellow ocher at the tips. The sunlight savors falling on Hobi, down to the last inch.

You try to keep your eyes open, struggling, and Hobi sets a hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair lightly.

"Go back to sleep pup."

You hum, already half there. He pulls you a little on top of him, holding you with a firmness usually reserved for too-large packages and the tenderness reserved for very fragile very precious things. It makes your whole body feel tingly at the edges.

“Thanks for not leaving the nest when everyone else did,” you think he might be asleep for how long it takes him to answer. But everything in the last 24 hours has left you feeling like you don’t want to be alone, that you can’t be left by yourself. He breathes up and it presses against your stomach.

“Didn’t want to go with the others- just wanted to stay here in the nest with you.” nesting is a biological need for alphas as much as it is for omegas, Hobi hasn't felt so relaxed in ages.

He murmurs, hand still skimming through your hair. His thumb rolling against the nape of your neck and you shiver hard into the touch, sinking further into him. “Is that okay?”

Your hand finds a spot under his arm and you use it to tug yourself closer, getting your forehead against his shoulder, the headphones slipping from your ear.

“Yeah. It’s always okay.”

Hobi tucks your hair behind your ear and puts the headphones back in.

The next time you wake it’s because Noodle is licking at your forehead, grooming you, and you hear the shutter sound of Hobi’s camera, his small giggle. You swat at noodles face and he bats at you a little before settling on the small of your back, fighting Hobi for necessary real-estate and howling when he gets pushed off.

“Nu, be quiet,” Hobi’s hushed words are answered with an equally quiet meow that sends you straight off to dreamland again.

You don't know how long it's been, it could have been hours or minutes the next time you wake. You just know that Hobi smells good, smells musky sweet caramel all drippy and heady, that you've got your nose pressed up against his scent gland. All surrounded by it. Surrounded by him.

The next time you wake is not so innocent.

You’re a little too close. Cuddling with Hobi in a way that you might with Yoongi- with Namjoon or Jungkook. All warm snug hot. Bodies and dreams tangled so thoroughly that it's hard to tell where dreamy wants begin and fragile delights end.

You’re warm at your front from Hobi and warm on your back from the sunshine streaming through the window. Warm all the way through. Until he moves his hand and you realize that’s from him too. His fingers splayed over your spine.

You think you can be forgiven for confusing them. Hoseok and sunlight are one and the same.

The apex of your thigh is pressed tight to his hip just where his thigh starts. Your leg hitched over his hip and tight to it. The fabric of his sweatpants and the fabric of your pajama shorts are all bunched up from your movements. Your knee bent at a comfortable angle. His scent is heady in your nose, pressed to the low tugged collar of his shirt just over his heart.

As close as you can be but still not enough.

You don't even realize your hips are moving, sleepily grinding against his thigh until it's too late.

Hobi grabs your hips and groans.

You stop mid-movement, thoughts sloshing sleepy. And oh, you were moving, weren’t you? There is a dampness between your thighs and the scent of slick and arousal sharp in the air. That comfortable pleasure hiccup in your throat that says you want to cum and can. could like this.

You jerk back from the warmth in front of you, startled into wakefulness as you realize exactly you were just doing.

Oh no- you didn’t mean- Hobi. Alpha, warm and comfortable at your front.

You start to back up, still half asleep, but terror and embarrassment flood you like the ocean floods the sea rocks at high tide.

Hobi groans, a deep near growl sound, and moves before you can back up even an inch. he was just as asleep as you just were until you pulled away. His sleepy brain still clings to you.

His hands slip lower, holding you tight against his front. His sleepy alpha brain is malfunctioning. Sweet omega needs to stay close. The source of his warmth and the friction against his front cannot slip away.

His hands are on your ass and your pussy is pressed flushed to his hip, and Hobi-

Hobi is your best friend, Hobi is your packmate and Hobi has to be unaware of what he’s doing. You’re sure of it. You try to pull away again from him fighting back more embarrassment than you've ever felt in your entire life, hands pressed to his chest.

But He pulls you right back to him.

Right into a unmistakable hardness poking at your stomach. Hard and warm. Right where you were grinding in your sleep.

Hoseok’s heavy breath brushes your ear.

Instincts are incredibly hard to describe. The way they hook into your consciousness and separate reason from action and want from logic. The part of you that’s in control, that recognizes that you and Hobi shouldn’t be this close like this if it’s not talked about, is so distant.

A needy sound echoes that might be from you, that is from you, as Hobi’s hands slide up your hips and under his sweatshirt. Cold hands on your warm hips and oh-

Hobi’s eyes are cracked open, looking down at you, watching you with pink cheeks. Tongue darting out to lick at his lip. “S’okey you just-" his eyes flutter closed again; breath warm against your face. "You take what you need.”

It’s only a testament to the pack's care that you associate these things with each other. Safety and coziness are just so close to pleasure and comfort. Your sleepy body associates this kind of nesting with sex. it's only natural that you'd get a little needy while inside of it.

You can get needy, Hobi doesn't mind.

Before either of you can say if you really should, if this is really a good thing to do without talking about it first. Hobi’s hands are on your waist, pulling you back snug, his hard thigh between your legs.

If you were more awake, you’d think better of it, you’d think so much but there is only that sweet pressure. The drag, the wetness, the soft little huffs of breath that he shushes when he lets you take what you need. Helps you with his hands on your hips and guides you back into rocking against his thigh.

You feel it all the way down to your toes when his hands slide down to the curve of your ass then back up again, underneath the hem of your shorts and then your sweatshirt- his too (all of you his). Rucked up to your ribs.

“Soft.” Hobi groans.

This must not be real. This has to be a dream. Because Hobi doesn't want to touch you like this, Hobi doesn't groan and twitch against your stomach or guide the movement of your hips with his hands into a slow grind that has you gasping against his jaw. Hobi doesn’t leave the seat of your pajama bottoms soaked with slick. Hole clenching around nothing already. Utterly boneless where you lie against his front.

There is one single moment where you look at each other, one single moment where you try to keep from going any farther. Even though you want it, even though he wants it too. If Namjoon and Jin have taught you anything they've taught you caution.

Hoseok can smell the others lingering on your skin, the spot on the top of your head where Yoongi rested his cheek. He leans down, brushing his lips over it. It’s such a tender gesture and it breaks the flood and he's tugging you up, tugging you even closer, desperation coloring his voice all sweet.

“Fuck- please.” His forehead rests against yours, “fuck I just need-“

You're not sure who moves first, who starts the kiss only that once you’re kissing him it’s hard to stop. One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.

Teeth clanging against each other, harsh as they nip. Kissing so good that when you pull apart for breath you're both gasping and it has nothing to do with needing air.

Hobi has such nice lips it’s no wonder that they’re heart-shaped. Made for kissing, made for the needy needy licking against the seam of his lips. He shifts turning you on your side, surging up to kiss you properly and put his weight behind it. cradling your head with one hand and your side with the other. You’re so pliant, so willing to let him kiss and take. You want him to take everything. arms around his neck.

He breaks apart, forehead resting against yours, heart beating so quick that he can feel it in his palms. Pupiles blown when he blinks. “If you take what you need, and I take what I need- Can we-“

Your hands thread hard in his hair. Tugging him back to your lips. Closer and closer. “Fuck Yes- please-“

You don’t know where the wanting comes from, why it’s raging through you like a fire. His lips move against yours frantic, you bite his lip and he jerks. Hovering over you with your back against the nest, all tingly and fizzy. Your bones feel like champagne popping, like shooting stars burning out.

Hobi’s hands shake when they touch your hips, just like yours do when you mirror him, your touches shy but just as hungry, tugging up his shirt, fingertips and nails pressing bluntly to his happy trail of fine dark hair. You can feel the way his cock jumps against your stomach and thigh when you scratch gently.

You pull back a little and sit up and it’s sacred; the way that he panics, scrambling to hold onto you. You're A little bit shy when you take off his sweatshirt, nothing underneath. hair fluffing when you get it free from the cotton.

Your bare skin and the cold room. You get goosebumps on your arms almost instantly when they cross over your bare chest. Hobi’s breath stutters in his chest, like roman candles flare and settle. Hobi takes his sweatshirt from you and sets it aside in his haste to hold you again.

He starts to tugs his pants down, getting tangled because he won't even pull back an inch from you. You kiss his throat, again and again making up for lost time. Sucking a mark there. His hands fumble with the waistband of his tied tight grey sweatpants. finding the loops and then freeze when he feels wetness. Pulling back and looking down just to make sure that that is what he thinks it is. you stop your kissing and look too.

There is a wet spot, darkening the grey material. Your slick from your grinding, the spot where you got so worked up and felt so good that you couldn't even help it. He pulls back so that the light can kiss it but yeah that's definitely from you. Evidence of how much you want this. Evidence of how much you want him.

Hoseok thinks you might have actually set his body on fire. Is about ready to start checking your fingers for matches.

You blush so hot that you think you might be burning in embarrassment. Hands between your legs, clutching at the material of the nest, so embarrassed you can't watch as Hoseok looks down at it and then up at you.

“I’m sorry I- I can’t help it- I'm always-“

Hobi’s hands smooth over the wet patch, splaying up to cradle his cock where you’ve left your mark. And he looks at you, jaw rolling and eyes dark. He doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

It’s hasty how you both move to take his pants off, and he kicks them to some forgotten corner of the nest, his boxers pulled off too, and then clings to you. You cling to each other. Kissing again. Hands knotting through his hair and tugging.

You glance down and oh- Hobi has such a pretty cock. the prettiest in the pack maybe (don't tell Tae), Flushed at the tip, hair neatly trimmed and curving up.

Your bare thighs press to his adds a whole new level to this, the skin there is sensitive and unknown. Lying thigh to thigh somehow feels more intimate than chest to chest as you lie the way lovers do, your leg, his, then yours again.

You’re damp between your legs when he touches, hands shaking. He doesn't bother to take off your shorts just tugs the soaked bit of fabric to the side. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a pussy but he knows enough to do it gently. Petting over your folds like he’s teasing a flower to bloom and opening a rose for a bouquet.

“Please” you gasp, hand vicelike around his wrist. Kissing his frantic pulse again. Hot lips and a cold nose drag down his throat. You hiccup as the pads of his fingers find your clit, shaking against him. "Please-"

But you don’t need to ask, you don’t need to beg. Whatever you need Hobi will give it to you. Your hands scratch as his back when he presses close, snaking underneath his sweatshirt. Breath heavy.

He kisses your neck and bites it when his length brushes the wetness between your thighs. Hot and honey slick. his hips press to your hips, harsh lines of his thighs pointing low that you like. There is so much about Hobi that you like; the way that he kisses, the way that he touches. oh- it’s better than you imagined.

His knuckles are glossy with your slick when he curls them against the nest, holding himself up.

Hobi bends down to skim a kiss across your neck, your collarbones, your sternum.

You laugh, your giggle high and bright. He has to pull back, not upset at all but wanting to laugh too, giggling too. “Why are you?”

Your smile means everything to him. “Your hair tickles.” It is kind of fluffy, kind of pulled everywhere from your kissing and you run your fingers through it, scratching a little around the nape of his neck, and Hobi is done playing.

He pulls back, already dripping a bit of precum, silvery and pearl like at the head of his cock, standing against his stomach. a little hidden because he's still wearing his sweatshirt. Checking because he can’t not check.

“Is this- can I- fuck are you-“

“Daisy, please-“ Oh, how that pet name unhinges him.

He won't make you wait another second for it, hands shaking as he holds your hip. Shushing your needy whimpers with a soothing alpha rumble as he guides his cock close. Giving you what you both need.

Hoseok is not as big as Namjoon or Tae or Jimin, but he’s properly thick. Not the kind of thickness that knocks the breath out of you but the kind that fits just right. Not enough to make you ache or hurt even a little. It doesn’t hurt at all when he eases in slowly.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

That might be because of how soaked you are; dripping messy underneath the warm humidity of the blanket. The visual of your glossy pussy robbed from him but unimportant as Hobi stares at your face, resting his head against your forehead. Watching your eyes dilate and eyelashes flutter. “There we go- fuck-”

It’s not worth pulling back to separate how close you are. How good it feels to press his chest to your chest, not even a single inch separating you. His kisses go gentle and messy, moving against yours in a gentle rhythm just like his hips after he gives you a second to grow used to it. Rocking just a little.

Hoseok has heard the others talk about your pussy, those moments that he tried to block out at the beginning and then started to file away once loving you got more real. But for everything he's heard from his packmates, nothing compares to the reality.

The closeness. The way your hips fit. The hot- too much- clench around him.

He understands a little maybe, fully buried in you for the first time, why they talk about it so much. Why Jungkook had slipped it into dirty talk a few times with Namjoon and why it had made him growl and cum so quick. Why Tae had teased Yoongi for hogging you.

Your pussy feels like an inside joke in all the best ways, the kind of inside jokes that always have you feeling both known and loved. You can’t remember what you used to laugh about when you were a teenager and if asked Hoseok would fail to describe why sex with you feels so full. Why it feels like highlights and golden ages, the golden hour drenching you. It’s not sex for pleasure’s sake and it's not sex for closeness's sake either- although that’s part of it.

It’s not sex at all, it's making love. With Hobi, it’s making love from the beginning.

It's not instincts and mating bond urges. It’s not one submissive giving to a dominant. It’s not about protection and safety even though that's there or because you're an omega and he's an alpha. Because he's a man and you're a woman.

It's just love, that's it.

And it doesn’t hurt at all. For either of you.

The eye contact is never ending, his warm and fucked out the more he rocks. Gentle at first and building up frantic. Hobi doesn’t fuck like the rest of the pack does either; he doesn’t speak, letting out these quiet heavy breaths and shushing your squeaks with soothing alpha grumbles. His thumb wiping away the few overwhelmed tears that slip out and a smile swallowing your hiccuping breaths.

"Fuck” he breathes, moving his hips a little faster. His stomach presses to yours damp and tacky with sweat. Hoseok’s doesn't fuck in and out all the way, hardly moving away from you at all. Just rocking in deep.

Hobi doesn’t stop hitting every spot, comfortable with these unending rocks of his hips, maddening in the way that he never stops filling you. Never pulls out even half way.

Your hands weakly clench in the blankets of the nest as he twitches right there. That sensitive spot inside of you that feels like courting ecstasy when he nudges it. It’s the same spot that Yoongi likes to tease at, the spot that only his long fingers can reach properly and Tae’s too when she’s really trying. Ghosting over it and petting at it until you’re mad with pleasure.

But Hobi doesn’t tease, Hobi just gives. rubbing against it again and again with every gentle roll of his hips.

you put your hand over your mouth to quiet your whimpers when he pulls back, sitting up just a little. Holding your waist and forcing your body further down on his cock, nudging it as deep as it can go and you sob.

Hobi grins, a little cocky, a little pleased that despite his size compared to the others you're still equally as wrecked.

“Right there yeah?” he teases, and then rocks against it again. thumbs pressing against your stomach where he cradles you. waist so tiny that they almost meet when he holds you.

Your cheeks are hot, and you have to turn and whimper into the pillow. he lets you shift so that you're belly down in the nest and he's behind you glued to your backside. lying his weight down behind you like a blanket. pressing you into the nest where you'll stay like a good pup.

Hoseok instincts are absolutely purring. omega, getting bred in such a pretty nest. Good warm soft omega.

Your hand laces with the blanket, needing something to hold onto and he kisses the back of your neck, treading your hands together as he keeps going. This new position lets him rock in even deeper, putting his weight behind it.

“If you keep going, I’m not gonna be able to-”

His breath ghosts your ear, lips dragging down the column of your throat to nip and suck gently at your scent gland, marking you there. his hand presses, holding you to the bed as he rocks harder. His barely formed knot already inside and growing, getting you closer and closer as it thickens. Keeping him right there at the spot and you on the edge. You're so wet it's making noises, soaking and dripping down his cock.

He kisses your mating mark, nipping at it, and you’re gone.

You cum, a wet gush around his knot and a broken whimper. a growl in his throat sounds loud in the empty house. It sounds like made mate happy, made omega cum for me. Hoseok's Alpha is absolutely preening watching your Legs shake, the nape of your neck sweaty, body slack and head tilting to bear your neck. both of your bodies messy from it, filthy and blushing with love.

Hobi’s not far behind, rocking another time, a third, a quiet satisfied breath into the back of your neck before his knot pops locking you together as he cums so gently. No growls or gasps, just hot spurts that fill and satisfy you. Knot popping and Locking you so close you can feel his cock pulse. So close you can feel the same heartbeat on his lips when kisses you, hurried kisses pressed to the nape of your neck that quickly go slack with sleep.

Your hand settles across your stomach, and oh- you realize why hobi wasn't bothered by how wet he got you earlier. He just keeps cuming, so much that it's leaking a little around his knot. You're not sure that Jimin or Tae or Yoongi cum this much, Namjoon definitely does- but thats kinda proportional.

he just keeps going, heat flooding you. Maybe he's only cumming so much because it's the first time, and he needs to claim you from the inside out. you're a little too dizzy to figure it out.

You feel like you might pass out. You don't know if it's squirt or cum or just sweat when he lies himself over you. cuddling closer despite the mess. Teeth at your bared throat, Sucking softly, Soothing.

instincts are kind of embarrassing at best, irrationally hot at worse. you squirm a little closer so that his knot goes deeper.

The sunlight spills across your cuddled forms, still underneath the big thick blanket. He doesn’t pull out, the knot keeping him snug tight. His hand is on your cheek, rubbing up and down your jaw. He pulls the blanket up around you. And neither of you says a word as your rapid breathing calms.

You’re not sure who falls back asleep first. Only that he wraps his arm around you and pulls you back on top of his chest, cuddled there. Knot warm and safe inside of you.

knotted together like this, you're finally finally close enough.

~-~

When Hobi wakes you’re watching him and his dick is out. Wet and slick and cold.

That would certainly cause him to be alarmed if it wasn’t for your expression; a little pale. Hands between your legs and looking at the doorway.

You just really don't want to drip cum onto the couch, like- obviously. Hobi didn't hurt you. But the brief terror at waking up uncuddled and so suddenly douses Hobi like a bucket of cold water.

The cold might be the actual reason for his sudden wakefulness. The wintry air in the room is jarring because the house is finally heating up. (as much to do with the heating system doing its job as it is with your activities earlier that turned the windows all hazy with condensation).

It's like someone had just come in and then abruptly left again. Your cheeks are pink, and there is a cloth on the side of the couch, folded and warm. You didn't get it for yourself.

“Don’t freak out, but Yoongi and the others walked in while you were asleep.”

You’re kind of glad that he wasn’t awake to see your mate barely contain his screech, jumping up and down with Jungkook in the entryway. Namjoon’s subtly grinning expression when he took in your appearance and paused in the cold doorway breathing in deeply. Tae wrapped around one arm; their walk interrupted by his return from surgery.

He groans, barely awake enough to think about the visual that Yoongi and the others were treated to. The consequences are better than a shot of expresso at wakeing him up.

But really, was there ever a possibility that the others wouldn’t find out about this? Does Hoseok even want them not to know?

He's too tired, too think about this logically.

Hoseok wonders why he didn’t wake to you holding him. He’s seen you hold the others, hold Namjoon in the morning when you smell like him. The way you wake slowly and run your fingers through their hair. The other alphas have a habit of cuddling up to rest their head against your chest. Hobi remembers that day by the beach when you pet his hair, he wants you to do that now.

But he can't fucking ask. Asking you to cuddle him would be fucking embarrassing.

“Shit." He shakes off his neediness and easily locates his boxers in the mess of the nest because they're bright red. Surreptitiously tucking his now soft and deflated knot back inside. You look away, letting him have that moment of privacy without comment. Your arms curl around your chest, you’re still nude from the waist up. thighs clenched togeather.

“Yeah uhm, they went back out to like- give us some space.”

"Did they say anything?"

You look away, wiggling over to the edge of the nest. "No. But they looked like they wanted to say a whole lot.”

You definitely don’t say that you heard their scuffle, Namjoon and Tae using their alpha privileges to wrangle an overly excited Yoongi and Jungkook. or that both of them had come back inside, both with pink cheeks smelling sweet at the sight of Hobi’s face pressed to your neck and the fresh hickeys at your throat.

(Hobi’s hickeys are always so small and cute. Tae can’t wait to take a picture and save it, for memory's sake. She’s half tempted to take out her phone and snap a picture of the two of you now.)

Your hiss of “Don’t say anything, I swear to fucking god if you wake him-" cured her of any bad ideas and had Namjoon grinning, his dimples showing.

Yoongi’s finger pressed to his lips in the doorway. Smiling wide and showing his gums. Omegas do get awfully protective over alphas in their nests. Especially post-knotting.

You’re honestly a little surprised that their muted shouting hadn’t woken Hobi. The closed door had kept out the cold but not the sound of them discussing on the porch; mostly Tae's insistence that they needed to get out of the house for lunch instead of heading back inside.

“But what if they need aftercare?”

"We shouldn’t leave them alone and unprotected.” (Classic Joonie).

“Yeah! What if they need cleaning!”

Yoongi snorts, “Gross Jk- I’m pretty sure the last thing they want is you licking up Hobi’s cum.”

“But he always likes it when it’s Jinnie-" that had your face and body heating (although that could just be Hobi- a literal furnace that he is wrapped around you).

Now his warmth is on the other side of the nest yet it feels impossibly farther away. As you both stew in silence under the weight of what you’ve done, what you just did.

Everything feels quiet and scary as you put yourselves back together in silence. You use the wet washcloth to keep yourself from dripping all over the couch while he looks for his pants in the mess of blanekts that smell like sex.

Thoughts like shit shit shit and what have you done ping-ponging back and forth across his brain. Mind bouncing between unlikely personal regrets and likely female rejection (of which he is only too familiar with).

Hobi doesn't like feeling rejected, it always brings up bad memories. He didn't wake up to you holding him. Is that a rejection or is his brain just making it up? People always hold each other after sex. Don't they?

You reach for his sweatshirt but before you can touch it a growl bursts forth from his throat and you freeze.

Hoseok scrubs a hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away the memories fitfully. Maybe it’s just because of the fact that he woke up and you weren’t wrapped around him. He's going to have to cuddle you himself if he wants it right now.

This first time with you reminds him of other first time's that didn’t end well. He's sorry for it the second it slips past his lips.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I just- my fucking instincts feel like they're on fire."

“So can I…?” you trail off. Your skin has goosebumps again. And Hoseok doesn’t know if it’s the casual nakedness that has him feeling so unmoored. A blush trailing its way up the back of his neck even though it shouldn’t be weird. He saw you shirtless every other hour during Namjoon’s rut for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah, just wear it- please wear it.” He can’t take back his growl, but he can meditate by watching you pick it up and hug it to your chest. Looking at him for a second as if to check that it’s still alright and he’s not going to snap at you again.

There is a hickey on your shoulder, the spot where it meets your arm. Hobi doesn’t know if it’s from him or someone else. It's a little too red to not be new. You don’t look uncomfortable being nude in front of him.

If anything, you look a little bit glowy.

You look at him and then pull it over your head. His cheeks still heating stubbornly as your chest moves a little, jiggling.

Why do girls have to just- girl all the time- it's honestly a little unfair how much hobi blushed.

He watches you, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxers as you stand up pulling the sweatshirt down your hips. He stares at you until you ask a little flustered by hiding it, “What?”

He tugs on the hem of his sweatshirt, slowly, carefully, leaning forward as he tugs on one of the strings with his teeth. His hands go to your waist pulling you close gently, half sure of himself and half afraid. Hoseok is always somehow half afraid. Is this allowed? Is this wanted?

He rests his head against your stomach, loosely twining his arms around your waist to pull you closer, still loose enough that you can step away if you want. All of this can stop if you don’t want it. He hopes you know that.

Hoseok looks down at your feet, not at your face. “I love it when you wear my clothes. I really don't know where that came from.”

“Careful,” you say, a grin in your voice. Your tone light because you don't want him to smell so sour again. “I’m gonna go for your pants next.”

You snatch his from the floor and dart away. Nothing excites an alpha’s instincts like a chase, and Hobi feels the fire light down his spine. His movements are a hunt-heavy blur. Brain honed in on you.

He catches you by the counter, your giggle echoing off the high ceilings. His blood heating again as he drags you by your hips and flops down into one of the bar stools, sitting you on top of him with a growl.

His hands grip hard around your waist, determined until he’s shy. Letting you go softly, “Sorry I just-”

“Instincts still? Don't worry I get it.” You give him his pants and sit up off his lap so that he can put them on. And now is not the time to get another boner Hobi- but it’s kind of hard not to when you smell so bred, so wholly satisfied.

Hobi did that. Hobi's the one who made you look like this drowning in the afterglow.

Your own instincts are telling you that you want to take the blankets from the couch and drag them upstairs, and tuck them in around the scents of the others. So that they can all see and smell how good you made your alpha feel.

Hoseok’s pleasure leaves an undercurrent to the air that’s intoxicating. Half sugar-sweet and musky alpha. Your body hums with it as he steps up close behind you, close enough you can feel his warmth and not his body, nose skimming the bruise he left close to your mating mark. Letting out a tired sigh.

You did just work off a lot of energy, regardless of the half-nappy half-cuddle fucking that just was; It's also left you fucking hungry.

As much as the kitchen has been a place of anxiety for you it really isn’t with Hobi there. There is still that tape line on the floor that guards you off from the stove, sink, and the fridge. Hobi steps out from behind you and goes to the fridge, getting out some of the prepped fruit that Yoongi almost always keeps on hand.

But you keep looking at the kitchen, the pans hanging above the sink, your mixer sitting dusty in the corner. The hanging mugs. Everything.

He brings it to you, setting it down in front of where you sit. instincts making his eyes fever bright. He watches a little too intently as you lift a raspberry to your mouth. Something about watching you eat cools his instincts, making him release a taught breath.

He watches as you lift another piece, a blackberry to your lips and bite down. Almost purring, too afraid of what might slip out if he speaks. He half wants to do it himself and feed you from his fingertips. But that’s a little too embarrassing to consider.

A minute later, after you’ve eaten half a dozen more pieces, he reaches past you, about to get a piece of peach. He doesn't think anything of it, but when he reaches past your face- you flinch.

It happens so quick that he almost doesn’t even catch it. One second your cheek is turned straight and the next your eyes are darting from him to the bowl. Scent souring with fear and memories from Geumjae.

Fuck. (No cuz actually- fuck Geumjae.)

You don’t look at him with fear, you just look at him with a strange sort of sadness in your eyes. Sorry. Like you’re sorry for being scared. hoseok's hand goes tight on the counter.

"I'm sorry."

Hobi sits down. Holds your hands in his, and waits for a second before he speaks. makes his words quiet and gentle because anger at someone dead and gone has no place here.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You have nice hands, warm where they press into his. And he cradles them, your knuckles flexing vaguely in his grasp, gentle but commanding.

“You’ll try not to, you mean."

You smile at him sadly. Hobi’s chest is tight with it. He needs you to know how much he means those words. How much he needs to mean them. But you both know how hard it is to promise that.

"No. I mean I’m not going to hurt you. Ever.” He repeats. You smile at him sadly again. And he knows his brief anger earlier when you touched his sweatshirt- usually such a normal thing for you- didn't escape you at all. But grief and mourning and memory always finds you at the worst times; after first times and on sunny winter afternoons.

The two of you are a mess, bodies teeming with the memories of failed loves, lost and broken. But you can ignore your triggers; such innocuous things as you wearing his sweatshirt and him reaching past your face. You can ignore your memories; the wretched and rotten ones, just for today.

You let the heavy moment pass and look at the other side of the kitchen. Hobi’s chest feels tight with something. Something that he needs to say but can’t just yet. You can only tell someone you love them for the first time once. You don’t get a second chance.

Hobi just wants to get it right.

You’re looking at the kitchen that Yoongi made for you, holding his hand still. using the other to feed yourself more fruit.

(Is there anything more intimate than holding hands with someone? It feels like more than the pads and lines of his fingers are pressed to yours. soul to soul and palm to palm. The future is written out right there but you ignore it. Love line, health line, fate. But the two of you are dedicated to writing your own end. Your love line is exactly the same length as his, not a millimeter longer).

Hoseok’s chest is still all tight. “What are you thinking about?”

“I haven’t made anything in months.” You sigh, sad. “I want to. I used to love baking, I used to-” you break off, sorrow making you quiet.

Hobi’s eyes are fixed on your shoulder. There are freckles there. He’s not sure why he’s never noticed them before or that you’ve got them dotting your back.

Hobi swallows past something in his throat. Pushing you gently from your chair until you're standing next to him. Cupping your waist because now that he's started touching you it's hard to stop. Now that he knows he’s allowed to touch you so casually, so affectionately, he going to keep doing it.

“Go. I’ll watch you, make sure you stay safe.” Because that’s the rule, isn’t it? Not that you can’t be in the kitchen at all, just that you need someone there to keep you safe.

The words feel tight in his throat, not easily said. I love you. He thinks as he watches you move to the mixer with a small but pretty smile that looks like daisies have taken root on your skin, everything sweet and flowering.

I love you. He thinks as he watches you get your cookbook from behind the mixer. I love you he thinks when he watches you place a mug from that morning in the sink. I love you he thinks as you get the sugar, the vanilla, the salt. He has to get up and get the flour for you, unwilling to have your arms strain underneath the heavy container, doting on you just because he can.

Just because he wants to, just because he loves you.

The shadow of what’s left on the bag hits his dark clothes like a ghostly outline when he holds it. The flour is a bit like you; everywhere he touches it leaves an impression. The rainbows from his suncatcher you put in the kitchen shift with the angle of the sunlight, winking out one by one as dusk falls.

He sits at the kitchen island and watches as you hum and flick through your recipe book. Golden hour fades to orange and pink the same way that roses fade.

He’s not sure why he blurts it out, why he asks, “What’s your favorite?”

You look up from your cookbook, everything is set out but still, the recipe is undecided. “What?”

Hobi can not look at you for this, instead looks at the kitchen island and the old butcher block countertop. Fingers toying along the edge where a knife left a gash.

“You always make everyone else’s favorites; Namjoon’s honey cakes, coffee-flavored things for Jin, the vegan stuff for Jungkook you know- but-” his eyes flick up to you in a moment of bravery. “What’s yours? What's your favorite?”

You think for a moment, a kitchen apart, fingers tapping on the countertop and Hobi can’t take his eyes off of you. His body feels a little achy but in that ‘was just fucked good’ sort of way that makes his breath deeper. Quieting some alpha part of him that always wants a little more. A little more scenting, a little more validation, a little more attention.

But everything can wait.

“My favorite thing to eat or my favorite thing to make?”

“Both. Either.” You glance at the clock. Going to the pantry for a second to double-check that you have everything you'll need. “I’ll have to make some of it from scratch but-" you look at him. “Do you have time?”

Hobi nods. “As long as you need.”

Hobi watches as you measure out the flour and sift it. Hobi watches as you wait for the eggs to get to room temperature and fucks with the playlist. His phone will eventually get splashed with coco but- it’s okay.

All of this is okay, all of this is I love you I love you I love you and I don’t know what to do with all of it, can you take someone it, please. I don’t have enough space in my body to hold all of it. Hoseok doesn’t speak for how sheer the impulse is just to blurt it out.

The yellow plastic mixing bowl keeps clattering against the counter as you stir the egg yolks until they froth up and fizz. Pouting you turn your eyes to him. “Can you help?”

Hoseok has to swallow back the words before they slip past. Hopping up a little too quickly. “Yeah of course.”

You don’t tell him what you’re making, let him guess. So many of your recipes need egg whites and vanilla. You let him put it together on his own. Hobi doesn’t peek at your recipe book and spoil the surprise.

Every action, every spoonful of sugar is I love you too, just say it. You don’t talk about the sex you just had and you don’t say I love you to him. You wait for him to say it first. You don’t say a thing besides; “Just a half teaspoon of that; drizzle it a little at a time, or else it clumps together. Good.” Hobi’s cheeks heat with every bit of praise and you have a lot of it for him.

Hobi looks away when you look up from the bowl, oh so carefully folding the batter and egg whites together. So gently that the hiss and bubble of whipped egg yolks disintegrating is hardly audible.

Hobi hasn’t baked since he was a kid; since he got into his head that chocolate chip cookies were totally something that an eight-year-old should be able to make on their own without adult supervision and almost burned his parents’ apartment to the ground. He tells you the story and you laugh.

He can tell that you’re making adjustments as you go. Adding in a bit of cinnamon, piping off the cookies in neat little lines, and then tapping them oh so carefully to get rid of the bubbles.

The stove preheats and then the tray goes in, filling the room with your scent. That cakey baking aroma that has him resting his head back against the cabinets when you sit on the floor and greedily breathing in.

You wait the 30 minutes like that, sitting on the floor between the cabinets and stove. Your feet pressed to his knees and a glass of lemonade between the two of you.

“You really like baking,” he says, and your eyelashes flutter, you must be getting tired. He takes your feet into his lap, using his hand to massage up your calf. Smiling when you sigh.

“Yeah, it makes me feel- I don’t know. I like making the world sweeter, just a little. Even if it’s just my little corner of it. Making things you guys like makes me happy too.”

“You know, you could go to culinary school if you wanted.” Hobi gets a little shy because you hadn’t explicitly told Jin and Namjoon not to tell anyone about your plans or your application (still pending). It will be a few more weeks until you find out, but that change is just on the horizon.

He's already seen Jimin perusing expensive leather bookbags and has overseen a recommendation letter coming from Namjoon’s email. Hobi might have read it for him to double-check because Hobi always notices things the others might gloss over. Jin and Tae had given it proof read too.

You make a noise in your throat, halfway between a hum in approval and a hum in distaste. “I don’t know, it seems like- a lot to do for a hobby.”

Hobi and you are the only two in the pack who wanted to go to college but didn’t. Couldn’t in your case because Geumjae wouldn’t let you and flunked out in his. He gets the lack of clarity in your voice; to go back or not go back. To try again or not try at all and not worry about whether or not you’re enough.

“I already started applying anyway. Namjoon and Jin and Tae put a lot of effort into helping me apply and-” You let out a frustrated sigh.

Hobi shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter. You can change your mind.” There is always time. You tap your toes against his shins and he grabs your feet and you jerk, ticklish. And he almost almost gives in to the urge to tell you he loves you right then and there.

“But could you be happy? Doing this all the time?” You turn, putting your hand over your eyes to peer into the oven and make sure that the ladyfingers are rising properly. “Doing it every day? Would it make you happy?”

You pause, hand on the door before replying in a small voice. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe I could be happy.”

You stand with a crack of your knees, sticking out your hand for Hobi and almost falling into him when he truly uses your hand to help himself up.

“Come on, we’ve got to make the whipped cream next-”

It goes like that, you both talking, and Hobi fucking with the playlist. Thinking three little words and not saying them.

You let the ladyfingers cool for a few minutes while you make the expresso. Dunking them in quickly. Piping out the honey-flavored whipped cream in sticky little dollops. Shaking out the cocoa with a practiced hand.

You make the caramel for the top last. Sugar-burning, glass-like little strands on top for a bit of crunch.

The tiramisu is a delicate creation, the layers perfectly spaced out in just the right ratio of cream to chocolate. You let it sit for a second in the fridge and when you take it out, you cut it into a single perfect little square and put it on a plate for him. Treading over the blue painter’s tape line and lingering by him where he sits.

“Try it.” You ask and he does obediently.

Hobi takes a bite of it, rolling the flavors around his tongue while you watch. You haven’t cut a piece for yourself just yet, but you have a fork. You stand on the other side of the kitchen island and take a bite from the other corner of the pan, humming happily when the taste hits your tongue.

It really is your favorite. You grin at the plate, “I could finish this whole thing in one sitting.”

Hobi takes another bite. It’s really good, the flavors are simple but delicate, each of them identifiable but yet cohesive. He could eat all of it too.

Hoseok swallows and realizes why it's your favorite; It tastes like all of you- like the pack.

The honey whipped cream is Jin and Jungkook, and the chocolate cocoa on top is your mate; dark chocolate like an Oreo cookie. Hobi thinks it might not be normal cocoa. The homemade ladyfingers are soaked through with Namjoon's coffee and the cake itself is a delicate dance of Tae’s cinnamon, Jimin’s vanilla, and your scent too. Buttery and yummy.

He's finished half of what's on his plate before he realizes that you added the crunchy layer on top, the caramel too.

That’s Hobi isn’t it? The Burnt sugar sweetness. He knows that’s not typical but still, you added in anyway. The smell of caramel is thick in the air. Sweet sweet sweet. Hobi always smells the sweetest when he’s falling in love.

The tiramisu tastes like the whole pack. Like love soaked threw. Hobi’s heart and body is full of it.

He thinks this might be his favorite too.

Hobi tries to blink back the wetness, really tries not to cry as he takes another big bite. He gets a little bit of whipped cream on his lip, licking it and sniffling. You pause, a bite hovering between the plate and your mouth before you set down your fork with a clink.

“Oh Hobi”

The space between you is nothing more than air as you quickly head around the kitchen island. You cup both of his cheeks and he sags into the touch, hands instantly going over yours to keep them there. Tears spilling warm and unabated down his cheeks.

Hobi decides right then he is beyond pretending that he doesn’t want it, that he doesn’t want you. Wet cheeks and imploring eyes.

“Oh Hoseok, what’s wrong?”

You’re standing between his legs and your collarbone rests against his cheek. Your hand runs through his hair and his heart pulses hard.

"I didn’t mean to make you cry. If this is because-” you trail off. You don’t say that you shouldn’t have had sex earlier because you can’t find it in yourself to regret this even a little bit. But you are sorry for not doing it in a way that didn't make him cry. If that's why he's crying.

“No it’s not that. I just-" Hoseok can hardly speak his mouth is so full of love that it bursts from him before he has a chance to think it through. Sobbing a little as he says it;

"I'm crying because I love you and I don’t know how to tell you.”

Hobi stutters and your hands on his cheeks go firm for a second before they relax. “I love you; I love being around you, I love that you're my best friend and that i get to love you too. I love living in this house with you. I’m crying because for the first time I get it-”

He can’t stop the confession now that it's started, and if he'd just open his eyes he'd get to see your smile but they're screwed shut tight.

“I get it, I get why once Yoongi met you, he couldn’t leave. I understand why he brought you back to us. But-” he hiccups and you giggle a little at the sound. His eyes shoot open and he realizes that you're crying too- that you haven't stepped away. You wipe away his tears with your thumbs and grin down at him.

“I'm so fucking afraid too- I can’t help but feel like the way we started just- fucked everything up. I fucked everything up back then by being jealous. I look at you and I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.”

You hold his face in your hands and think; I will be gentle with you, I will be gentle with you even if it kills me. You have never loved someone broken like you, and you know how easy it is to make a wrong step. But you’re sure when you say the words anyway.

“You won’t.”

“But-” you kiss his hands, knuckles, fingertips. His forehead, his lips Everything. Your eyes are focused and Hobi can’t look away.

“You won’t, you promised not to hurt me and you won’t.”

He falls silent, and you pull him in close. His lips still tingle from your kiss and you kiss him again, long and lingering, hard with the force of your conviction. It tastes like tiramisu.

When you break apart, Hoseok rests his ear on your heart and listens.

You should say I love you back, you really should return the words. But you think there will be other moments to say them. You'll say it when you wake up with him tomorrow morning, you'll say it when you fall asleep tonight curled close to him. There will be more time to say them- during a late-night drives when you look over at him in the dark. There are always going to be more times to say it and you’ll say it and mean it every time.

Unfortunately, life isn't so neat and tidy.

You wipe his cheeks and he wipes yours and you both giggle, leaning into each other. You get him a tissue for his nose and start laughing all over again. Being with Hobi will always be like this, half your lover and half your best friend.

“Do you want to go on a drive later, only,” you wipe tears from your own eyes, “want to take the others this time?”

He smiles, “That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

He tries to pull you in for another kiss but you feed him a bite of tiramisu instead and it gets half on his cheek, “finish your cake alpha,” you command, and Hobi is perilous to disobey. the next bite you take ends up on your cheek too because he tickles you, and you blush when he leans forward to lick it off your cheek. All giggly and happy and close. You sat practically on the edge of the counter. Noodle meows and laps up some of it from the floor.

You don’t need to say I love you back, you already have. Hobi can taste it on the edge of every bite.

You cut him another piece and share it this time, and he can't stop looking at you, can't stop smiling.

You smile around a mouthful, "i'm gonna tear up that train ticket."

"Don't you fucking dare. We've gotta like- put it in a scrap book or something."

You clean up the tiramisu, thinking of what might happen when the pack gets back, thinking of how things will go now that you’ve settled this. They’ll be happy; all of you all together finally. This last piece of your little family finally falling into place.

Maybe it will go like this:

Maybe when the pack gets home, there will not just be tiramisu on the counter. Maybe there will be gluten-free lemon bars and honey cakes. Chocolate ginger cookies dusted with powdered sugar and freshly baked bread with cheese and garlic. Little personal cheesecakes that you made in a muffin tin dotted with jam preserve because now that you’ve started to bake again there might not be anything to stop you.

You already feel the urge in your hands, the urge to make things. You think it might have been learned from Yoongi.

Maybe they’ll come home with pizza, unsure if a party and alcohol is really the proper way to go about celebrating, but the cake from the bakery that Tae will buy as a joke, will have flowery lettering and “congrats for losing your Hobi-ginity"

It will make you laugh until your lungs ache like the fireworks have gone off. Will make him blush and rub the back of his neck in shyness.

When they come home there might be a few sly comments but the pack knows when to tease and when not to. Maybe Namjoon will take a hearty sniff at Hoseok’s throat, dragging it up and down the nape of his neck, huffing happily. (Namjoon has always been a little bit possessive of Hoseok the same way Jin has always been possessive of you, but that's pack alpha's for you).

Tae will tuck your hair behind your ears to get a better look at the mark he left on your throat, manicured fingers gently stroking over it. and Yoongi will shoot him a challenging look and drawl, "really daisy? is this really something you wanna start?" all playful. the way yoongi only gets when he's really really happy.

And when Jin gets home, Maybe he’ll drag you over his lap with some squirming because there is no avoiding this hole check. Not when Jin and the others have been waiting.

Under the hungry eyes of the rest of the pack, you would still squirm. Your mate watching and grinning as he nibbles a piece of pizza and just watches as Jin pulls your sleep shorts down to your knees. Leaving them there to pin your thighs together. Hand against the small of your back to keep you still.

Of course, the pack omega has to look after the two of you and make sure the lowest on the hierarchy is being safe without a stronger presence nearby. But your entrance is pink fucked warm, not red and inflamed. Hoseok’s knot is the perfect thing to warm you up, and Jin tugs his sweatshirt over your hips to keep you warm as he examines you.

Fingers drag your entrance apart to show the others how good hobi did. Prompting them to touch and feel for themselves, all of their fingers teasing at your entrance and all of them touching you. Tae and Jungkook holding your thighs, Jimin and Namjoon resting their hands on your ass to help jin hold you open better and yoongi prodding to feel-

They'd want to see his cum slip out, forced from your hole by your needy clench. Of course, they'd just fuck it back inside because not a drop can go to waste. one set of fingers and then another, jungkook leaning down to taste.

Jin’s eyes would be all dark eyes and honey tones, looking hoseok up and down, cheeks as red as the sweatshirt you wear. His praise makes Hobi feel just a little bit too proud for his own good.

Hobi would probably get a knot-check for that, because if the alpha has something to be proud of then surely the others need to check his ego (and only in the way that hobi likes).

The alphas would scuffle with him a little, wrestling to settle him. Hobi's instincts are still fever bright and he needs to be put in his place. To feel the pack for what they are; very necessary safety bumpers.

He'd go so easily after a few nips- Jimin would help pull his pants down so Namjoon could get his big hands around him, fingers teasing at the red skin around his base and making Hobi growl and gasp. Pausing to cup lower and make sure Hoseok's empty, that he didn't hold back breeding you. Tae would tutt and make him open his mouth, her finger teasing along his teeth just for shits and giggles. Just to make him groan.

Nothing makes an alpha more proud than getting to show off his teeth.

Jin would smile at the display, and croon. “Good alpha.”

Maybe Jin will pat your pussy lips softly before pulling your pants up, making you flinch and then relax and jungkook would bend down to give Hoseok's knot a little kiss before standing.

The whole thing would take maybe 5 minutes but it would leave the whole pack ravenous for more. The final evidence of this finally happening; all of you together and not fragmented.

As you should be, together.

Maybe later, after treats and pizza, you'll all get to go to the beach like Hobi promised. Two separate cars. And Namjoon might let Hoseok and Jimin do donuts in the empty parking lot without too much fuss. The smell of tires and gasoline ripping.

Jungkook whooping and Yoongi watching on with his grin, Jin in the back seat with you going “Oh- oh hope- slow down” looking a little green. But terrorizing the pack omega is kind of your job.

It’s cold and late at night but you’ll tear out across the sand. Running to the shore. Tossing your shoes into the dark and toeing into the waves. Yelling happy.

You and Hobi will try and throw Yoongi into the water and then the other alphas will actually succeed in throwing Namjoon, pushing him until he inevitably tumbles into the seafoam. All 7 of you will try and wrangle Jungkook into the same wet fate and fail.

Jin will tuck Namjoon’s wet hair back behind his ear and grin at him, his grin saying the words they don’t need to. Kisses tases like secrets and salt but that much has not changed. Might never change when it comes to the eight of you. All the secrets in the world couldn’t keep you apart.

You’ll get zoomy in the way that dogs get in wide-open spaces. You’ll run. Your feet slapping against the sand, tossing spray into the air as high as your laughter, chasing after each other. A bunch of barefoot kids in too-big bodies and sand between your toes. Hands clasped tight in each other’s so that you won’t let go. You won’t ever let go now that you've found them.

For once you'll be absent of all the things that drag you down. Lighter than the warm air that billows over the sea. Mouths that store special secret salty smiles for the better. Damp fingers that curl against warm wrists. holding onto each other tight even though you’re running and running-

Running.

Maybe.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, what happens is this;

You are sitting at the kitchen counter when Hobi gets a text. It’s from Jungkook asking about the pizza types that you’d want and

Yoongi’s left his phone, he says with a little 👀 emoji. But he won’t truly tease the both of you until he gets home. Of course Yoongi was too distracted by you and Hobi post coitous to grab it from the other room.

you to to the pantry to put away the flour and this close- you can hear another phone ring from the bathroom. It's it yours? Only No, it's not your phone sitting on the counter, but Yoongi’s. Lighting up with Jin’s contact information.

JinJinJin: 5 missed calls.

It's so like your mate to leave his phone in such a random place. You smile as you pick up.

Jin is already talking a mile a minute. Fear and panic make his words come quick and desperate.

“Yoongi- why the fuck didn't you pick up" You don't have time to respond. Don't have time to let him know it's not your mate but you that picked up the phone.

"I don’t know how the fuck it happened, I don’t know- but-“ he’s almost shouting over the phone, such raw panic in his voice that it has your body going frozen.

Jin lets out a broken sobbing breath.

"I shot Minnie.”

~-~

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Notes:

I ended up editing out a good portion of Hoseok ’s inner monologue at the begining, because I realized that at that point in time with the other pack he wouldn’t have been thinking stuff about how terrible it was because it wasn’t terrible yet. i probably should have even edited it fluffier if we're being honest. i think that would have been more unsettling.

The line where she says “One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.” Is a little hard to explain, she’s not thinking about Yoongi in that moment but the person she associates the most with love is Yoongi so- yeah it made sense. I feel like this line might make people go a little like “what??”

I swear if you guys didn’t cry a little at the ‘It doesn’t hurt at all.’ Parts I’m not doing this right because I was SOBBING.

Listen, I almost edited out the line where he calls her pussy an inside joke so many times- but for me- when I was younger I always wanted to be a part of inside jokes because like- if you are that means you’ve got history with someone- Hoseok is thinking this because until this moment- he hasn’t been able to be apart of something that the rest of the pack had understood.

When Hoseok was leaving a hickey over her mating mark it’s his way of saying “this is mine too 😠” to Yoongi,

Honestly??? Why is Hobi so feral in this like- he’s a /little/ unhinged from how much he wants her and tbh it’s fair. Look away if you don’t wanna read him going APESHIT for her.

ALSO- I’m just imagining him on the walk with jungkook and Tae, cheeks slowly pinking up because he can feel that they’re having sex down the mating bond, maybe getting hard and the others noticing, both of them plastering themselves along his side and teasing him with words like “do you think he’s making her all wet and messy hyung? Do you think she’s gonna cream around his cock like she creams around yours?” and Yoongi just- endlessly suffering around the two horndogs that are Tae on estrogen and jungkook on a regular day.

The moment where they’re holding hands and it’s talking about palmistry is a refrence to noah kahan’s song everywhere everything and the line “it’s been a long year, in all of our books pages dog eared, we write out the ends on our palms dear, and forget to read.”

The worst worst worst part about this chapter is that I don’t??? have a fucking recipe for the tiramisu?? Like I’ve made it before but I’ve never made honey flavored whipped cream or put caramel on top 🥺 maybe I’ll test it out one dayand update this chapter

Okay so the ‘flash into the improbable future at the end is a little too horny for the end of smutt but I couldn’t just /not/ put it in there because you know how I love a good hole check scene.

do you hate me because of this cliffhanger? even i have to say its a little unforgivable.

please be patient for next chapter because i do not have A SINGLE fucking word written for it. like nada, we're starting from scratch come monday.

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Hobi's sex Playlist (jk isn't not a sex playlist)

Dominic fike- Mama's boy (hobis' flashback)

Mitski – my love mine all mine. (yoongi telling him to be good)

Lana del ray – chemtrails over the country club. (the sex)

Olivia Rodrigo – can’t catch me now (when they're both triggered from the respective abusive relationships)

Tom o’dell – black Friday. (Juz cuz)

#bts x reader #bts mafia au #bts a/b/o #bts fluff #bts poly au #bts polyamory au #bts omegaverse au #bts gang au #bts au #bts #taehyung x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #bts smut #bts hurt/comfort #bts d/s #bts omegaverse #kim taehyung smut #taehyung x y/n #park jimin x reader #bts assassin au #bts angst #bts imagines #bts fic

[mrsnancywheeler]

the river (3) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

previous chapter / next chapter

masterlist

4.6k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mental illness, self-hate, suicid/l ideation, brainwashing, paranoia, mentions of trafficking, s/h in the form of scratching, breakups, no use of y/n, unedited, President Snow, threats, slightly mean!finnick towards conway

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick wanted to beg the doctors to see you, but he also was terrified of pushing you into another breakdown. So he'd settled for sitting outside the hospital room’s two-way glass at all times. He didn't sleep, he couldn't, nor eat so he just watched. At first you'd been sedated, but you were relatively calm if untrusting. Which was nothing, especially compared to Peeta who'd tried to kill Katniss. You were quiet, voice small and shaky except when your distrust took over.

A doctor had been trying to get you to swallow some pills with your water which you'd been adamantly refusing, “I don't know what it is."

“It's just a medicine to help fight off any infections you might have." The doctor explained and Finnick was grateful that she was more patient than the others. Yet you still looked uneasy, “We can go over what's in it and what it'll do if you want." The doctor suggested and you slowly, unsurely nodded. They'd showed you the bottle, read to you, and let you read the bottle information before you'd finally agreed to take it.

After hours of this Finnick couldn't help himself anymore, "I want to talk to her.” He abruptly stood from his chair and stared at the medical staff.

"She's calm right now, it might not be wise to do something that could disturb her.”

“Can't you just explain it to her somehow, I'll stay in a chair in the corner, won't move a muscle, you can handcuff me. I need to talk to her." There were sighs, hushed arguments before an agreement was eventually made. So, he stood outside waiting as the doctors tried to convince you to see him.

“Someone wants to see you now, if that's okay. He'll stay right in that chair, won't move at all, if you feel uncomfortable and you call out for us, okay?”

You looked at her, untrusting, "Who?”

She sighed and sat down on the hospital bed with you, she must have decided you were less of a threat and more someone who had to be communicated with. It hurt Finnick to know you'd let a doctor you'd never met so close, but were terrified of him. “You remember that you're married, right?"

“He wants me dead." It was like you couldn't get it off your tongue fast enough.

“No he doesn't." The doctor says, very decidedly and before you can get your next words out she insisted, “We'll all be right outside, so if he did want to kill you we wouldn't let him.”

You shook your head, “No, you wouldn't."

“Why do you think that?"

You laughed a little, “Because I'm a threat, you don't know what I did or didn't reveal, and everyone knows that I…” You trailed off. He couldn't grasp his head around the idea that you were still so attached to that perception of yourself, you did what you had to do, to stay alive.

"Coin granted all the victors rescued immunity. We've got no reason to want you dead.” Silence. You stared at her, she stared back at you. The words must have registered, but you seemed to be too deeply steeped in denial.

“I want to talk to Peeta.” The universe despised Finnick, he was sure of it.

"We can't let you do that.” She said softly.

"Why not?"

"He tried to kill Katniss Everdeen.”

You shook your head, "No, he wouldn't do that. They're just in his head, he'll remember.” The irony of it all, Peeta wanted Katniss dead, and you thought Finnick wanted you gone as well.

“Did they get in your head too?"

You laughed again, “No, no, they didn't."

“Then why do you think Finnick wants you dead?"

You take a deep breath in and sound frustrated, hands bunching up the thin hospital blanket, “They're not in my head! They just showed me what I wasn't paying attention to, I know what happened, and the things I've done. I'm not crazy.” Your voice shook like you were going to cry.

"No one here thinks you're crazy.” Finnick could tell there was more the doctor wanted to say, but was holding out in fear of you devolving. "He will sit in a chair the entire time and no one will let him any closer, I promise you."

Finnick prayed to whatever might have been that they'd let him have a moment, that he'd be able to help you. Your head was buried in your hands, “Okay." You finally muttered and he breathed a sigh of relief.

The doctor smiled, giving an encouraging squeeze to your shoulder as she stood up. Pushing the only chair in the room up against the far wall before exiting. Finnick was anxiously messing with his piece of rope when the doctor finally approached him. “You've got the go ahead, but stay in the chair, no sudden movements, it might startle her enough to make her panic."

“I understand." Finnick nodded and the doctor waited a moment before she opened the door, letting him slowly walk into the bright, white room. And there you were, legs pulled up against your chest like it would give you some extra barrier. He wanted to hold you, to tell you it was all going to be okay, but Snow had even taken that away from him so he sat in the chair. “Hi, sweet girl." He gave a soft smile while you wearily observed him. You were silent though, "Do you know who I am, angel?” He knew you did, but just needed to hear you say something, anything to him.

Every so slowly you nodded, hands rubbing at your neck, "Finnick Odair.”

He hummed a yes,"Mhm, good job. Do you know what we are?” Finnick tilted his head slightly.

You nodded, but it was like the words were stuck in your throat. Squeezing your eyes shut for a second, “I care about you."

He nodded, “We care about each other. We got married, do you remember that?"

“People keep saying it." Stinging pain covered his chest, Snow had taken what was left of your trust, your happiest moments, and left you with the husk of anxiety. “I'm sorry, I can't, I don't know." You hit your head with the bottom of your and started crying.

“Hey, hey, it's okay, don't do that, it's alright!" He wanted to leap up, move your hands away, and have you in his arms. “You don't need to feel bad, angel, can you just tell me what you do know."

Your face became sober almost immediately, “You want to kill me."

“No." He said just as fast, “I'd never want that-"

“You don't have to lie to me, I understand. I can't be trusted, it's a smart move." Hands were back to rubbing your neck.

"What you did to survive all those years ago, when we were teenagers, doesn't mean you're not trustworthy. I trust you." He felt like he was going to cry, he was back at square one, when you'd returned from your games, but now you didn't even trust him.

You shook your head rapidly, “You're trying to get in my head!" There the tears were and his elbows landed on his knees so he could hide the fact his hands served to hide his cries. The world would've been a much kinder place if he was dead, if you were dead, if everyone could just die and stop this endless circle of torture. This was his inescapable boulder he kept pushing up the hill only to see it roll down over and over again, maybe if he'd died the first time around or even in the quarter quell the finality of death would bring peace. His eyes must have been bloodshot when he lifted them from his hands, only to grab the rope again. He needed more rationality to talk to you, this could help him ground himself because if had to live, it had to be with you.

“You used to teach me to tie ropes." You eventually muttered out, curse you and the way you were trying to say something to help him when he was at his weakest, even though you were convinced he wanted you dead.

He looked up from the knot and tried to smile appreciatively even if his eyes were still watery, “Yeah, I did.” He swallowed even though his mouth was completely dry, "I am. I am teaching you to tie ropes.”

You maintained eye contact with him for a while, like you were trying to read into the depths of his soul and he hoped you would find how genuine he was being. You leaned your head back onto the wall, “I could always do most of the knots after the first few times, but I liked it when you would keep helping me.”

"I know.” He missed it, all the times you'd grumble about the activity until he was right behind you, hands on yours where you'd suddenly seem a lot less aggravated. Then you were sobbing and he dug his hands into the chairs arms rests to force himself to stay seated. Not being able to touch you, help you on top of trying to convince you that he loved you was like his own personal hell, so perfectly built.

“See I couldn't even stop myself from lying about that." You choked out through the tears, the rubbing of your neck was turning into scratching.

“That was endearing, I could never hate you for something like that, I could never hate you." You didn't respond to that, the scratching was getting worse, “Sweet girl, you're gonna hurt yourself, you gotta stop." He pleaded, but you were too far gone, muttering things too low to hear under your breath. “God, I can't even help you." Finnick could feel another tear falling down his face, he couldn't grab your hands, breathe with you, keep you comforted, it was eating him up inside and out. So he did the only thing he could, call out for the doctors who quickly marched in to stop you. That's when the yelling that could print his ears with the cacophony of your agony for all of eternity, began. It was remarkable how many people it took to hold you down and get you sedated,

Finnick wished he'd savored every moment he could've had with you. There'd never been a point in leaving you the first time, you were bound to be dragged into the Games, he wasn't the fire that burned you. He could've stayed with you, had so many more moments to think about. Time with you was precious, delicate and he would do whatever it took to have you back

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were like heaven and he should have known that was something he wasn't worthy of. It was easy to forget that though when with each month he became more and more infatuated, it felt impossible to be as in love with someone as he was with you and so quickly. It just seemed like you understood each other, were so similar, but also filled the gaps for whatever the other lacked. He wanted to take you out every day and when he was feeling more impatient for your company he'd buy out the whole stock of crabs just so you could be off earlier. By the first month of going out he has noticed an interesting development in who Finnick considered to be the worst thorn in his side, Conway.

“Who's that?" Finnick had asked one day, tilting his head in the direction of Conway and a girl who he was with.

You smiled so brightly it made him want to live in a world where it was his sunshine, “Oh, that's Meena! They're going out now." Maybe that thorn was finally being removed.

"She looks just like you.” Finnick whispered slyly.

“She does not!" You rolled your eyes and glanced over at her, "I mean we have the same hair color. So maybe a little."

"And you're both similar heights, same face shape, I wonder if you both have the same eye color too.” You playfully hit his arm as a warning.

"It's better than him being single and moping around, it was kind of driving me insane how melancholy he was being.”

“Because he's madly in love with you." Finnick teased, hands on your waist.

“No, he's just got a crush because he won't talk to other girls. And now he's out of his shell.”

"Because he's madly in love with you and you picked me.” He smiled, leaning his face in closer.

"You're such a dick!” Yet you were smiling and your face was so close to his.

"No, I'm just saying how lucky I am.” You rolled your eyes again and Finnick used it as the perfect opportunity to kiss you which you instantly reciprocated. He was right about Conway and Meena of course, right after Finnick had broken your heart, he'd heard through the grapevine that they'd broken up. Conway was able to take his place back as having some sort of chance with you.

He'd miss the way you'd lay with your head on top of his chest at the beach, didn't stray away from being seen with him in any sense, if the Capitol cameras followed him around you would easily fall into keeping up his appearances for them, he should've been more cautious. When he was upset and couldn't tell you why, you'd hold him, rub his back, do anything to try and help. Which is why when Snow showed up at his house in Victor's Village he felt like any semblance of happiness was being torn away from his grasp.

“President Snow." He greeted, slowly walking inside of the room.

“Mr. Odair, the Capitol has missed you, so much in fact that I had to make this very disappointing visit.”

"I wasn't aware I was needed back so urgently, or else I would have come.” Usually he was notified of the visits, who wanted him now, and when.

"Of course you would've, but would you have been fully there?”

"I don't understand what you're talking about.”

"Your performance, to be enjoying their company, has been lackluster. People aren't convinced that you're, how shall we say it, emotionally present on top of everything else.” He wasn't, it was so much easier to check out of everything.

"I'm sorry.”

Snow hummed, "If people aren't convinced, they're dissatisfied, if they aren't satisfied then I'm dissatisfied, and we both know the outcomes of that.” Everyone he cared about dead, him lonely.

“Yes, I'll do better."

Snow's smile was so menacing, snake-like it sent shivers down Finnick's spike. “Good, we wouldn't want any complaints trickling down, would we?” He turned on a projection of something Finnick couldn't quite decipher. "She's very pretty, I'm sure no one would be pleased if the dissatisfaction continued.” Finnick felt numb all the way through, it was you, arms around him. How could he have been so stupid as to not think about you?

"It won't.” Finnick said quickly, voice choking involuntary.

"Oh good, I wouldn't want to have to get creative with it.” Snow rose from the chair, “The train will be here to pick you up in two days, Mr. Odair." Then the man who smelled of blood and roses was gone, abandoning Finnick with the feeling of lead in his stomach. He had to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, make you less of a target, shrink the one already on your back. He sunk into the chair he was closest to. Trying to remind himself to breathe as he tried to figure out how he was going to break your heart. How do you spend almost a year with someone, praising the ground they walk on and then suddenly leave them in the dust. He couldn't be cruel to you, not when you were so kind. The idea that you would put your walls up again and completely shut him out made his chest ache, a pain that threatened to tear him apart.

He'd have to give you up, condemn you to the life you didn't want to live. Watch as you lose the hope of something newer, something that wasn't expected and settled for the life everyone saw for you. Maybe that's why Conway made him want to be meaner, his blood boil, because deep down Finnick knew that if he didn't have you, Conway's persistence to love you would pay off. You'd stop being the girl who would barter for things she enjoyed if only for a moment, there would be no more fantasies of your soul finally feeling complete, the way you'd both felt together. To protect you, he'd have to put a damper on the dreams.

Finnick hated thinking about how he was supposed to see you that night, how he'd promised to meet you at the beach since you'd insisted you didn't care about the weather as long as you could see him. He'd have only as long as it took to shatter the hopes of being with each other to memorize you. Your smile, your laughter, your playful banter, the way your eyes twinkled, the smell of peaches and the sea, and tasted like peaches and vanilla. For the rest of time you'd only exist as moments he cherished in his brain, distance would be pivotal. No more escapes from your life to his lavish parties, that association would still be close enough to get you hurt, you'd have to be cut off from any droplets of the Fountain of Love he was to you.

He'd steadied himself when the clock had finally ticked to the time that told him to go to the beach, to his ending with you. Time to subject himself to a lifetime of acting for Panem and you to submit to fate. The fates that had decided you'd both had your run and needed to get back on the roads planned out for you. It was windy and cloudy over the ocean, like he was being mocked. He stood there, staring at the stormy horizon that lay ahead of him until you appeared.

“Hi!" The way you smiled like the sun made him think he couldn't do this to you, to himself. He solemnly nodded in response and your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, you were so beautiful. “What's wrong? Are you not feeling good, we can just go inside, I'll make soup." This was a torture method, how was he supposed to hurt someone who wanted to take care of him at the slightest sensing of upset.

"No, I feel fine.” He said it too sharply and it visibly took you aback. You'd both bickered before, only when someone directly caused it, and then you'd both get over it. Usually someone would do something to get you both to laugh it off, but he'd never been harsh with you.

You crossed your arms like they would provide some sort of defense, the walls were already being put up as far as Finnick was concerned. “Sorry." You stopped looking directly at him, eyes focused on the sand, he wanted to say ‘No, I'm sorry. You're so sweet and you look so pretty.’ To kiss you, your cheeks, your forehead, for his lips to memorize you. The silence was brisk and awkward until you'd felt forced to break it, “So, are we swimming?" He shook his head and it was hard to miss the way you scoffed, “Okay, um, do you just wanna sit and talk? We can do that." How were you still so considerate and sounded so soft, when you were so annoyed? Maybe the barrier wasn't around you, but him because you made no move to give a comforting touch like you usually would, like you weren't sure it would be received well. “Finnick, if you're gonna be in one of your moods and not let me help, I'm sorry, but I'm gonna go home."

“I'm breaking up with you." It spilled off of his lips in a way that made him want to burn them off. He watched the look in your eyes go from concerned annoyance to sad shock.

“What?" The way your voice became shakier made him want to give up on the whole endeavor, say it was some fucked up joke he was dared to do. “What do you mean?" A small nervous laugh forced itself from your throat.

Finnick took a deep breath in, “I can’t be with you anymore.”

"Can't? What does that mean?” It would've been easier if you just cried and ran off.

"It's just not working out.” He didn't want to lie, say it's how he felt or what he wanted, but he had to get you away from the ticking time bomb.

"For who?” You sounded exasperated.

"I can't explain it, I just have to do this, it's better for you, for both of us.” He pushed down the part of him that wanted to start bawling, begging you to refuse to let him go. "I have to protect you.”

To his surprise you didn't pester on that question more and he watched a tear escape from your glossy eyes, "Don't say that.” You shook your head, bringing your hands up to your face to catch the tears. “You can't break up with me and say stuff like that, it's mean." He was confused and it was evident, "It makes me love you so much more.” No, no, no, no you couldn't say stuff like that when he was supposed to rid himself of you. It wasn't fair.

His fingers ran through his tangled hair, "I'm sorry. I really am, but it means you can't be around at all anymore, anywhere. You need to be as far from me as you can be." You tilted your head upwards, towards the sky, closing your eyes as you exhaled. "Say you hate me."

“What?" You looked at him.

“Say you hate me, hit me, tell me to go fuck myself, something. Be angry with me." He could feel the tears escaping, they were supposed to do that.

“Finnick, I'm not going to do that." Then you were unclasping the necklace, the one that you'd work every day since he'd given it to, and it was in your hands instead of around your neck.

“What're you doing?"

“Letting myself know it's over." Then the necklace was in the ocean, floating away, like any hopes and dreams of being with you. The way you'd built your walls back up, stopped crying, blocked him out from your feelings, astonished him. You trusted him enough to take him at his word, that he needed to protect you, and listened. Distance in the mind as well as in person. “Finnick, take care of yourself." You sent him a small, sad smile and then it was like the wind had blown you away. Out of his grasp forever.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“She agreed to see you again." Finnick's head shot up, the doctors wouldn't let him stay in your room so he initially had planted himself in a chair outside. Eventually they'd just rolled in a hospital bed when they realized he wasn't going to be leaving. He'd spent every second diligently watching over you, making sure you were alright from afar. You'd been sedated most of the time since your breakdown before except when you ate and sat solemnly with your thoughts. “Same rules apply, don't get closer unless she asks, keep a calm, steady tone." Finnick nodded with the doctor's words waiting to be let in.

“I understand." The door clicked open and he was back in that chair across the room. “Hey, angel. Are you feeling better?" Your blanket was pulled up as far as you get it over your knee that was pulled up, holding your face up.

You slowly shook your head, “It's cold." And he couldn't be the heat to contrast that, he couldn't even rise to get you a blanket.

“I can ask them if they can make it warmer or at least get more blankets."

You nodded into your leg,"I'm so lonely, I know you want me dead, but I miss you so much and I'm not even sure why.”

Because you had to know deep down that he would move mountains to keep you safe, that all that had really come forward was from your own self hate. "Why don't we play a game.” You looked at him confused, "You ask me if something is real or not real when you're struggling to tell. Just those words and I'll help you figure it out, angel.”

"How am I supposed to know you'll tell me the truth?”

"You just have to trust me.” You observed him like you were waiting to see a crack in the facade, for a muscle to indicate his deceit. You leaned back in the bed, letting your leg rest.

"You hate me, real or not real.”

"Not real.” You stared at the white ceiling.

"Why not?” There was a beat of silence, "I'm perfectly deserving of it, so why not?”

"Anything you think you did that's worth hating yourself over was something that couldn't be helped, you're so sweet, I could never hate you just because your hand was forced when you were a teenager.” Your eyes shifted back down to look at him, “You don't have to believe me yet, there's a lot going on, but it's true. I love you more than the ocean loves the moon.”

"There's just so much going on in my head. I want to believe you so badly, but something in my head says I can't.” You covered your face to try and hide the fact you'd begun to cry. The things he would've given to kiss away your tears.

“That's okay, sweet girl, I have all the time in the world to prove to that voice otherwise." It was painful to stay seated, to know he had to regain all the privileges he'd once had.

You rubbed at your neck again which worried him to no end, “Can you come closer?”

Finnick wanted to jump up, but he couldn't. "Are you sure?” You nodded and he ever so slowly stood up. "How close?” He asked.

You took some deep breaths to calm yourself before you answered, "Over here."

“You're sure?"

Your breathing was shaky, “Yeah." He was terrified of scaring you away. So he approached cautiously to see if you'd eventually startle, but you didn't. Then he was standing right beside you and it was even harder now not to reach out. Ever so slowly you grabbed his hands, fingers tracing around his palms, each callous, and then you were trailing up to his face. He was confused, but didn't make a mention of it. Your fingers lead themselves around his face, rose with his nose, like they were memorizing each crevice of his face. He shuddered when he felt your touch, it had been so long and your cold hands soothed his hot skin. Then your touch was gone and he instantly missed it, longed for it back. “Thank you. I'm sorry."

“It's okay, sweet girl." You moved away from him and settled yourself laying down.

"Can you lay with me?” You whispered out.

"Of course, angel.” Underneath his facade he was ecstatic as he slid into the spot you'd left for him.

"Can you just keep your hands on top of you, so I can see them?” Your voice was so nervous.

"Absolutely.” His hands landed firmly on his stomach as he lay there with you.

Maybe now the long rope didn't seem as appealing.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

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[tainsan]

misfits XII

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: kiss scene :O, mentions of suicide, swearing, anxiety

⇥ word count: 14.1k

⇥ a/n: i'm sorry for my poor updating schedule, ive been going through some things at home and also a major burnt out. i hope you can understand and thank you to all those who are still excited for the new chapters :)

⇢ masterlist ⇠

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--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

Just as you finish hanging up the final clothing piece into your closet, you take a moment to truly appreciate the full cupboard, never having seen your closet this full before. At that moment you realise you still need to buy undergarments, forgetting it completely at the shopping mall. Perhaps you can go with Jisung, then you also have a chance to talk to him and tell him how everything went. All of a sudden a soft aroma of garlic and herbs wafts through the air, filling up your room with a comforting embrace. 

Yunho, his sleeves rolled up, moves gracefully around the kitchen, the familiar dance of cooking a symphony he knew by heart. Pots clinked, knives whispered against cutting boards, and the sizzle of food met the occasional hum of a tune he hummed to himself. Today, however, was different. Today, the melody of his culinary creations carried a silent promise, a melody meant only for you.

Meanwhile, in your room, you find yourself lost in thought, your mind wandering about how on earth you are going to break the news to Jisung, without him breaking the sound barrier with his scream. Yet, the delicious smell of food snaps you out of your deep thoughts.

The minutes tick by and you find yourself becoming increasingly curious of what is being made in the kitchen. The tantalising aroma was difficult to ignore, its invisible tendrils weaving a spell that beckons you towards the kitchen.

Taking a deep breath, you finally venture out of your room, your gaze immediately drawn to the source of the mouth watering scent. There Yunho is focused and intent, his fingers moving with a practised ease as he deftly tosses the food in a pan.

Your steps carry a hint of caution, yet your curiosity prevails. You find yourself standing at the threshold of the kitchen, positioned right at the juncture of the three rooms that belong to you, Seonghwa, and Yunho. There, you observe Yunho with a sense of reverence, quietly taking in his presence and actions. Just then he looks up, and the surprise that paints his features is quickly replaced by a warm, genuine smile.

"Hey," he greets, the hum of the stove momentarily forgotten.

"Hey," you reply, unable to keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

Yunho quickly turns off the stove and walks toward you, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "I hope you're hungry."

Titling your head, you are confused by his words, a question forming in your eyes. "Hungry for...?"

Yunho chuckles, a deep, melodious, beautiful sound that resonates within you. "Hungry for your favourite. The one meal I… refused to give you on your first night here." You notice the way Yunho cringes at himself, remembering the incident.

Eyebrows shooting up in surprise, the realisation sinks in. "Wait, you're making it again?"

He nodded, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Yes, a peace offering, if you will."

Your heart swells, the gesture touching you deeply. "Yunho, you really don't have to,"

He delicately places a finger over your lips, effectively silencing any protests that might have arisen. In that moment, Yunho briefly brushes aside the sensation of your soft lips beneath his touch, focusing on his intent. 

"I want to," he insists gently, his words carrying a weight of sincerity. The fleeting awareness of the texture of your lips doesn't escape him, but he remains steadfast in his purpose. "Besides," he continues, his expression earnest, "I figured I owe you this. It was a huge dickhead move."

His gesture sends your heart into a rapid rhythm, the gentle touch of his fingers against your lips igniting a flutter of butterflies that seems to take flight throughout your entire body. The sensation is electrifying, a mixture of excitement and nervousness that courses through your veins. In that fleeting moment, his touch holds a power to evoke emotions you hadn't anticipated, leaving you momentarily breathless and utterly captivated.

Gazing into his eyes, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the delicious aroma enveloping them. "I agree,” you laugh out before  continuing, “thank you, Yunho."

Yunho's regret for his past actions becomes increasingly evident, a shadow that lingers in his eyes as he interacts with you. His earnest attempts to amend his past mistakes are palpable, and he dedicates himself to making things right and extending a heartfelt apology. You're not blind to his efforts, each gesture and word reflecting his determination to bridge the gap between you. His commitment doesn't go unnoticed by you; you see through the genuine sincerity in his actions. 

The appreciation you feel is profound, as you recognize the depth of his remorse and his sincere desire to mend the bond that was strained. His willingness to take responsibility and make amends speaks volumes about the value he places on your connection, and you're moved by his unwavering dedication to repairing what was once broken.

“You know… I never hated you.” Yunho admits, with a sorrowful expression on his face, “I wanted to talk with you, I was going to wait a little longer but I just needed you to know.”

“What do you mean? I'm fairly certain you would feed me to a pool of starving piranhas.” You reply, a joking undertone to your words.

Sighing, Yunho runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head, his expression pained. "Back in high school… I thought you had left because you believed the rumours, even though the night before you said you would help. I was wrong about you. I didn't want to let anyone in again. I didn't want to get close to someone just to have them hurt us again."

You nod in understanding, remembering how guarded Yunho used to be. "I get it. You had your reasons for being cautious."

Yunho's eyes meet yours, and they're filled with regret, as he speaks his voice cracks, "I never knew the real reason. I had no idea you were dealing with so much pain, that you were grieving for your mother and brother. And I didn't even bother to ask. I judged you without knowing anything about your situation."

His words hang in the air for a moment. You can see the depth of his regret, and it's clear that he's carrying a heavy burden of guilt.

“Yunho,” you call the man's name, seeing he is starting to get slightly restless, “it’s okay. Like you said, the mind is a powerful thing. I don't blame you for thinking like that. I am so sorry, when my mom died I should've found you guys,” 

“No, no. It is not your fault, tiny.” Yunho exclaims, moving closer to you, “we should have done better, I should have done better.” 

“I understand you were hurt.”

“That doesn't validate my behaviour,”

With a delicate touch, the taller man's hands find their place on your face, his palms cradling your cheeks with a tenderness that's both reassuring and profound. The gentle pressure prompts you to lift your gaze, locking eyes with him. 

The emotions that swim within his gaze are more intense than you've ever witnessed before; sincere, affectionate, and raw. They mirror the same love and intensity you remember from years ago, as if time hasn't dulled the depth of his feelings. In that moment, his embrace has a tangible effect on you, causing a gentle quiver in your knees. 

The vulnerability and closeness shared between you create a connection that's both soothing and electrifying, a reminder of the powerful emotions that have always existed between you two.

Yunho's gaze turns tender as he looks at you, his tears now flowing freely. "I realised after the one trip to the store for your moisturiser, that I care about you a lot more than I let myself believe. I was so scared of letting someone in, of getting close to someone again, that I pushed you away."

Your heart aches at his vulnerability and his raw emotions. "Yunho..."

He interrupts you gently, his voice quivering, "Let me finish. I just… it’s eating me alive."

Yunho's voice trembles as he struggles to maintain eye contact, his emotions finally spilling out after years of being buried deep within him.

"All these years I was trying to find an excuse to hate you, to get you out of my mind but I just couldn’ t. I... I had finally started to open up to you," he begins, his words coming out in a shaky, broken cadence. "But then we ran into Danny at the store, and it just... it ruined everything." Yunho's voice cracks, and he takes a deep, ragged breath to steady himself.

You can see the pain etched on his face as he continues, his words laden with regret and sorrow. "Just as I allowed myself to open to you, I felt like I was losing you all over again. You didn't come home for a week, and I thought... I thought everything from four years ago was happening again.” 

His admission is raw and vulnerable, and it tugs at your heart. You reach out and gently place a hand on his, offering support and understanding.

"Yunho," you say softly, your voice filled with empathy. "I had no idea how my absence was affecting you, and I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. I’m so sorry for putting you through this."

“It’s not your fault, tiny.” Yunho’s voice trembles as he speaks, “I… have this horrible vision in my head everytime I close my eyes. You on that rooftop breaking into pieces when we said we would be there for you. Fuck, I should’ve stayed and looked for you.” 

Yunho looks at you with tears falling out of his eyes, and his grip on your hand tightens as if he's afraid you'll slip away once more. "I should have trusted you, believed in you. And I should have told you how I felt."

You squeeze his hand reassuringly, tears also starting to well up in your eyes. "Yunho, we can't change the past, but we can learn from it and move forward together. I want you to know that I care about you deeply, and I appreciate your honesty now."

A glimmer of hope flickers in Yunho's eyes as he meets your gaze. "Really?"

You offer him a warm, genuine smile. "Yes, really. I don't want you to feel like you have to hide your feelings anymore. We can work through this together. Get that vision out of your head, I’m here now that's all that matters."

Yunho visibly relaxes, and he lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank you for understanding and for forgiving me. I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Yunho," you murmur his name, the single syllable carrying a weight of emotion and longing. Tears fall out of your own eyes as you listen to his words, your emotions becoming far too much to bottle up. The intensity of the eye contact between you both only amplifies the effect, causing a gentle quiver to run through your legs, threatening to make your knees buckle under the weight of the moment. The connection you share in this instant feels almost overwhelming, as if the unspoken emotions between you are echoing in the space between your gazes.

Yunho inches closer, the charged atmosphere between you and Yunho creates a palpable tension that seems to envelop the space around you. Both of you are on the brink of something electrifying, drawn by an irresistible pull that transcends words. The world around you fades into the background, leaving only the two of you in this suspended moment. 

His gaze locks onto yours, the intensity in his eyes mirroring the depth of the emotions swirling within you. It seems as if your breaths synchronise, you feel the warmth of his proximity, a magnetic force that draws you closer and closer. It's as if time has stopped completely, allowing you to savour every heartbeat, every heartbeat that echoes the anticipation in your chest.

The space between your lips narrows, the distance between you diminishing with each heartbeat. The air feels charged with an almost tangible energy, and you can practically taste the closeness as your eyelashes brush against his skin. Every cell in your body seems attuned to his presence, and your heart races in response to the intimate connection that's about to be forged.

Just as your lips are about to meet in a moment of breathtaking intimacy, a sudden interruption fractures the enchanting spell that had woven around you. Jongho's voice breaks through the charged atmosphere, his innocent question about dinner piercing through the cocoon of intimacy you had created. 

“Hey, when's dinner gonna be ready?"

The moment shatters, and the almost-kiss dissipates like mist in the wind as both you and Yunho jump away from each other, shocked by the sudden intrusion to your tender moment. Both you and Yunho are left suspended in the aftermath of what could have been. The emotions that had built up still linger, leaving you both with a sense of longing and a mixture of amusement at the unforeseen interruption.

Despite the interruption, the lingering tension and the unspoken emotions continue to reverberate between you two. The memory of that suspended moment remains etched in your mind, a testament to the unspoken bond that connects you and Yunho. 

“Uh…” Yunho clears his throat as he rests against the counter, trying to regain his composure. Yet, the red faced, jittery expression he wears is a clear indicator for what might have been transpiring before Jongho entered the room, and he momentarily feels awfully guilty for stepping in on your moment. “It’ll be ready in about ten minutes.”

Yunho wipes his eyes and returns to his cooking duties, the clatter of utensils and the sizzle of ingredients filling the space as he carries on with the task at hand. Meanwhile, you opt to take a seat at the kitchen island, positioning yourself so that you have a clear view of him. Your gaze remains on him, watching his every move, the tension between you both still lingering in the air like an unspoken secret.

The intense atmosphere persists, the electricity of the almost-kiss still crackling beneath the surface. It's a noticeable presence, a reminder of the emotions that had surged between you just moments ago. Yet, despite the lingering tension, you make a conscious decision to tuck it away for now. 

There is something intimate about watching Yunho work, a kind of vulnerability in seeing someone so capable and confident letting his guard down in the space you share.

Time seems to blur as you talk, about everything and nothing. He shares stories of his experiments in the kitchen, his culinary triumphs and disasters, causing an eruption of giggles to emit from you. 

The story of him trying to cook pasta without water makes you almost topple over from your chair at the island, another wave of laughs erupting when you see the playfully offended look on his features. 

“I had never cooked before!” Yunho exclaims, pointing a spatula at you, a pout evident on his features.

“I thought it was common sense to cook pasta in water?” You say, wiping away the tears from your eyes, “did you just put it in a frying pan with oil or something?” 

“Yes?” Yunho admits, laughing at himself along with you.

"Actually," he begins as he gives you a small spoonful of the pasta sauce to taste, a twinkle in his eyes, "I used to cook for the guys a lot before we came here. They were my first official taste testers."

You grin as you take the spoon of the creamy sauce in your hand, "So, I'm guessing you've had plenty of practice."

“They have seen my best and worst meals, Wooyoung, Seonghwa and I cook a lot now,” he says, a tender expression on his face “but today is different. Today, this meal is just for you."

You put the spoon into your mouth, and it is a work of art, the flavours exploding on your taste buds like a symphony of tastes you can never get enough of.

"Is it good?" he asks, his gaze fixed on your reaction.

All you manage is a frantic nod, unable to speak as you savour the dish. When you finally find your voice, you look up at him with appreciation. "Yunho, this is amazing."

He chuckles, relieved by your response. "I'm glad you like it.”

With your fork suspended mid-air, you study Yunho closely. "You didn't have to do this, you know? But I'm really glad you did."

Leaning back against the counter, Yunho’s expression softens, a smile spreading across his features. "I know, but I wanted to. I wanted to make it up to you."

Putting your fork down, your eyes meet his. "You already did."

Yunho grins, a genuine, heartfelt expression that makes your heart flutter. "Good."

“I’ll call the boys to get down,” you say, standing up from your chair. 

“___, wait,” Yunho calls out from his place behind the stove.

Turning to him, you raise your eyebrow gently, silently asking him to continue.

“Thank you.” Is all he says, “for accepting me.”

“Likewise, Yu.”  

—                              

Finishing the meal amongst the eight men, the laughter filling the house, the conversations flowing effortlessly makes you feel alive. As the evening sun casts a gentle glow through the dining room windows, you realise that this simple meal was more than just food. It was a symbol of friendship, love, of understanding, and of a connection that has only grown stronger.

Now, the late-night hours cast a quiet stillness over your room, illuminated only by the soft glow of your desk lamp. The steady hum of your laptop fan provides a rhythmic backdrop as you focus on the assignment your professor had sprung upon you unexpectedly. 

But despite your determined efforts, your mind remains ensnared by a web of thoughts, every keystroke a struggle against the memories of the almost-kiss shared with Yunho earlier in the kitchen. Your fingers dance across the keyboard, forming sentences and paragraphs, but your mind keeps drifting back to the intense atmosphere that had enveloped you both. The vivid recollection of his gaze locked onto yours, the almost-touch of your lips, and the way time had seemed to stand still, it's all etched into your mind like an indelible mark. 

The cursor blinks on your screen, waiting for words that elude you. Your thoughts are a swirl of sensations, the memory of his proximity evoking an electric shiver that refuses to be ignored. You imagine what could have been if Jongho hadn't walked in, your mind painting vivid scenarios of a kiss that never happened. The tempting "what if" lingers like an unfinished melody, taunting you with unexplored possibilities.

A sudden, daring thought tugs at your consciousness, the idea of seeking out Yunho, of finishing what was nearly initiated in the kitchen. Yet, the notion feels bold, an uncharted territory you're hesitant to traverse. Your fingers hover above the keyboard, caught between caution and longing, your heart pounding in your chest. You don't want to come off as needy or pushy. You remind yourself that he likes you, yet it seems like you would be pushing an unspoken boundary set by yourself.

Frustration simmers, the assignment all but forgotten as your desire for resolution intensifies. Unable to bear the confines of your room any longer, you push away your laptop, rising from your seat with a mix of determination and trepidation.

The hallway outside your room offers a breath of fresh air, a fleeting relief from the weight of your thoughts. But just as you take a few steps, fate intervenes – Yunho emerges from his own room, swinging the door open with a determined force. Suddenly, the corridor feels an awful lot smaller, the tension that had driven you out now amplified in his very presence.

“Yunho,” his name slips from your lips like a whisper, laced with longing and vulnerability. The shared tension is palpable, the intense air heavy with unspoken emotions that hang between you. Your call for his name was all he needed to hear, the longing undertone obvious in your voice.

Yunho's response is almost instinctual, his strides purposeful as he bridges the distance between you. There's a shared understanding in his eyes, an acknowledgment of the shared longing that has brought you both to this moment. His hands reach for your face, his touch gentle yet tinged with urgency, and the next instant, his lips crash onto yours.

The collision of your mouths is an uncontainable release of the emotions that have been building, a fervent union that's both messy and desperate. Your back meets the wall with a soft thud, the sensation distant against the fervour of the kiss. His lips move against yours with a fierce tenderness, each touch a testament to the emotions that have long been simmering beneath the surface. It's a kiss that speaks of longing, desire, and unspoken words, a passionate confession of everything that words can't convey. In this shared moment, you both explore what could have been, pouring the unvoiced feelings into this raw and unfiltered connection. The kiss, messy yet loving, has brought you to the precipice of something uncharted and thrilling. 

In a bold and decisive move, Yunho's lips remain locked onto yours as he gently pushes your body backward. The transition from the corridor to your room is seamless, his movements confident and calculated, as if he's familiar with every nook and cranny. His lips stay connected to yours, the kiss deepening in intensity, a passionate exchange that leaves no room for hesitation.

With a practised finesse, he navigates your room as if it were his own domain. His hands, once cradling your face, now slide down your arms, his touch electric against your skin. The door clicks shut behind you, leaving the outside world behind and creating a cocoon of shared desire within the confines of your room. Yunho's skillful manoeuvres paint a vivid picture of his determination and longing. It's as if he's been waiting for this moment, seizing it with a confidence that matches the unspoken emotions that have been building between you.

Guiding you further into your room, his lips never leaving yours, the air is heavy with electricity, the intensity of your connection noticeable. The sensations of his touch, the taste of his kiss, and the intoxicating feeling of his presence leave you both breathless and wanting more. 

When you feel the edge of your bed hit the back of your calves, a slight stumble causes your balance to waver. Seizing the moment, Yunho's quick reflexes come into play. His strong arms encircle your waist, pulling you closer to him with a reassuring strength. In an effortless display of his capabilities, he lifts you up, your feet momentarily leaving the ground.

His actions are seamless and purposeful, his movements confident as he turns the two of you around. Before you know it, you're being lowered onto your bed, the softness of the mattress cushioning your fall. With a gentle yet firm touch, he guides you to rest atop him, your bodies now intimately aligned as you now lay to straddle his waist, your chest pressed flat against his.

The weight of your bodies pressed together is both comforting and electrifying, a tangible representation of the connection you share. Yunho's presence beneath you is a witness to his desire and the unspoken emotions that have been simmering between you.

Yunho's lips stay against yours, a rhythmic and intoxicating movement that ignites a surge of sensations. His kiss is accompanied by a daring exploration, as his tongue gently presses at the barrier of your lips. The moment you grant him access, the kiss transforms, deepening in both passion and intimacy. It's as if the floodgates have opened, allowing a torrent of emotions to surge between you, each touch of your lips amplifying the intensity of your shared desire.

The world beyond your room becomes a distant echo, the insignificance of the outside fading into oblivion. The entirety of your focus is now on this moment, on the sensations that ripple through your body with every brush of his lips.

Yunho's embrace remains tight, his arms encircling you in a cocoon of warmth and desire. One arm secures your lower waist, drawing you closer to him, while the other curves around your upper back. His hand anchors you at the nape of your neck, a touch that's both possessive and tender, as if he's afraid you might slip away from him.

In a swift yet graceful motion, Yunho once again shifts your positions. The world tilts and adjusts as he manoeuvres, and now he rests nestled between your legs, your back against the bed. The shift in your arrangement only serves to fuel the fire between you. The kiss becomes more fervent, igniting a blaze that courses through your veins, warming every inch of your body with an undeniable desire.

With every brush of his lips and every touch of his travelling hands, the intimacy deepens, and the connection between you two intensifies. It's a moment that transcends words, a silent conversation of longing and need that finds its expression in the press of your bodies and the rush of your kisses. In this stolen moment, you're both suspended in the midst of a passion that's both tender and consuming, aching to explore every corner of the uncharted territory that you were so scared of.

Time becomes an abstract concept, as minutes slip away unnoticed in the embrace of shared desire and pining. The sensation of Yunho's lips moving against yours, the taste of him, the heat of his body pressed against yours, it's as if the world outside your room ceases to exist. In this intimate space, the only thing that matters is the sensation of being wrapped up in each other, the only thing that matters is Yunho

Every touch, every stolen kiss, is evidence to the unspoken connection that binds you together. The taste of him on your lips is like a drug, an intoxicating elixir that you can't help but crave more of. The press of his body against yours ignites a fire that burns with an intensity you've never experienced before. It's as if all you need, all you want, is right here in this moment, in his arms.

With each passing second, you find yourself falling deeper into the abyss of your own desires. The taste of him, the intensity of his kisses, and the press of his body against yours create a symphony of sensations that you're powerless to resist. The feelings that swirl within you are a heady mixture of longing, lust, and possessiveness – emotions that take root and refuse to let go.

When his large hands slip slightly beneath your shorts, their warm touch against your skin sends a shiver down your spine. The sensation of his large hands massaging your hips lovingly creates a surge of desire that's almost overwhelming in its intensity. The sudden rush of lust catches you off guard, and a twinge of fear flits through your thoughts. What if you aren't good enough?

The sudden tenseness in your body doesn't go unnoticed by Yunho, as his lips part from yours, concern etching itself across his features. The sudden shift from intense desire to a cautious distance creates a palpable shift in the atmosphere. 

“I am so sorry, did I go too far?” His worry is reflected in his gaze, and his question hangs in the air like a delicate thread, waiting for your response.

Your thoughts are a whirlwind, emotions swirling within you, and the weight of his question settles heavily on your shoulders. As you gaze into his eyes, you find yourself at a crossroads, torn between the yearning you feel and the need to address your own reservations.

“No, it’s not that.” You begin, and you see the man above you relax slightly, “I haven't really done anything like this in a while.” you hesitate in your words, “Seonghwa and I kissed yesterday…” you watch carefully for Yunho’s reaction as you admit what transpired yesterday between you and his older friend, however when Yunho stays calm, only a reassuring smile on his features, you realise he doesn't mind you kissed Seonghwa, so you continue, “I haven’t really done anything like this in a long time, let alone with this many emotions, it's a little new to me.” 

Yunho lets your admission render in his brain, as he thinks of an adequate response. 

“It’s okay, tiny. We don't have to do anything.” Yunho says, bringing his hand up to brush away a stray hair from your face. “I’m happy to just be here with you.” 

“Can we maybe…” you begin, not quite having the confidence to voice your wishes.

“Go ahead, I won't judge you.” 

“Can we just lay here, with each other?” you question, feeling an intense heat travelling up your neck, “and kiss a little?”

“You want to kiss me?” a playful smile tugs at the corner of Yunho's lips as he teases you, his fingers gently pinching your cheek. His touch is light, yet it carries a spark of mischief that's mirrored in his eyes. The delicate pinch elicits the most adorable reaction Yunho could imagine, your cheeks puffing out in embarrassment, a gesture that has Yunho’s belly blowing up with butterflies.

Caught between his teasing and your own bashfulness, you can't help but hide your face in your hands, seeking refuge from the playful banter. A soft laugh escapes his lips, the sound a warm melody that dances through the air.

The atmosphere shifts from intense desire to a lighter, more lighthearted mood, as his teasing draws out your natural charm. 

“Of course we can, tiny. Warning you though, I might fall asleep.” Yunho responds before laying his head on your chest, hugging your side tightly.

Yunho's form cuddles into your side, a sense of disbelief washes over you. The events of the night feel like a dream, a surreal turn of events that you could never have predicted. The contrast between the man who was once distant and rude to you and the person now nuzzling against you is staggering, leaving you in a state of wonderment.

His presence, warm and comforting, feels almost too good to be true. The way he holds you close, like a puppy seeking comfort, is a stark difference from the impression he had initially left. It's a transformation that you can't quite wrap your mind around, leaving you in awe of the complexity of human nature and the potential for change. 

As you lay side by side, the weight of the night's events lingers in the air, mingling with the comfort of his embrace. The stark difference between his previous demeanour and the person he is now raises questions in your mind. Could the others have hidden depths as well? Could they, too, harbour hidden facets of their personalities that have yet to be uncovered?

The intimacy and vulnerability you've shared with Yunho have opened up a world of possibilities. The walls that once separated you from each other have crumbled, revealing a new layer of understanding and connection. In this moment of quiet reflection, you can't help but wonder what other surprises await, both from Yunho and the others who share your living space. 

Yunho's gentle breathing against your side indicates that he's gradually drifting into sleep, finding solace in your presence. As you bask in the quiet comfort of the moment, the sudden ding of your phone startles you. You instinctively reach for the device on your bedside table, your movements careful so as not to disturb the slumbering man beside you.

With your phone in hand, you illuminate the screen to reveal the new text message. As your eyes scan the words, a mixture of shock and apprehension washes over you, sending a shiver down your spine. The message contains something that leaves you both shaken and concerned, and you can't help but feel a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach as you read over the cryptic words.

‘Have fun with my boys. It won't last long. &lt;;8’

-

The morning sun peeks through your curtains, a cascade of soft, golden light floods your room. You inhale deeply, savouring the warm aroma of the dawn, as you snuggle in the embrace of your fresh, crisp bed sheets. The faint melody of chirping birds reaches your ears through the open window, their songs leaving you with a sense of calmness. Meanwhile, the gentle caress of the cool breeze sends delightful shivers cascading down your skin, awakening every nerve, leaving goosebumps upon your skin. It took you very long to fall asleep last night, the cryptic message you received replaying in your mind.

It takes a fleeting moment to regain your bearings, and the chill from the open window prompts you to cuddle even deeper into your warmth of sheets. Yet, your efforts are briefly halted as you sense the comforting presence of another person beside you, an arm enveloping your torso in a secure embrace.

Turning your gaze to the unexpected warmth, you're momentarily taken aback. However, a wave of relaxation washes over you as you discover Yunho's relaxed sleeping image just inches from your face.

His face bears a slight puffiness, his lips softly parted, and his cheeks adorned with a gentle, rosy hue. His tousled hair covers his forehead, pointing in many directions, the image causes a fond smile to grace your lips. 

At this moment, you still find yourself struggling to fully comprehend the sudden shift in his demeanour. You are most definitely not unhappy with his change, yet you do realise it will take some getting used to.

Staring at Yunho for a few moments longer, it suddenly occurs to you that you must get up and ready for school, Yunho, and the strange message temporarily leaves your thoughts. You make a cautious attempt to extricate yourself from the slumbering presence beside you, but as you shift, he stirs in his sleep, responding by drawing you even closer, nuzzling his nose into the curve of your neck.

In a soft, raspy voice, Yunho murmurs, "Don't go yet," sending a flurry of butterflies swirling through your stomach. His face remains nestled against your neck, his breath fanning your skin, causing goosebumps to rise up your neck.

“I have to get ready,” You attempt to say, trying to ignore the way his raspy voice sends shivers down your spine.

“Please stay.” Yunho mumbles and you can almost feel the pout upon his lips.

“I have to, Yunho.” You say, holding in a fond giggle as you see him desperately tug onto you.

“Okay,” he mumbles, the pout on his face increasing as he turns around fully, grumbling into the pillows. A soft laugh escapes your lips as you tenderly ruffle his hair, and with a lingering glance, you reluctantly leave the room, making your way to the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, your eyes lock onto Wooyoung, and a pleasant surprise lights up your face. Normally not an early riser, spotting Wooyoung in the morning brings an immediate smile to your lips. Beside him stands Jongho, whose presence you had anticipated. They engage in a lively conversation, genuine smiles gracing their features. 

You take a moment to observe the pair, noting the relaxed way they chuckle together, the tender glances they exchange, and how their bodies naturally gravitate towards each other. It's a sight that warms your heart.

You realise that you haven't had a proper chance to talk with Jongho since he approached you at school to settle the conflict with your eight roommates. As you approach them, your heart quickens at the way their faces light up upon noticing you. 

Jongho's voice, soft and affectionate, calls out your name, leaving no doubt about the warmth of his feelings.

“Where are you off to? I thought your lessons started in the afternoon?” Wooyoung asks, and for some reason you sense a trace of sadness in his tone, you aren't sure as to why it is there. 

“I’m going to see Jisung, we want to have breakfast together.” You reply, sending a curious look in Wooyoung's direction, to which he avoids eye contact and immediately looks away from you, playing with the mug in front of him, causing your curiosity to further intensify. Looking over at Jongho, you notice he also has a trace of curiosity lining his features.

“No breakfast with us today?” Jongho asks, a joking pout upon his lips.

“Not today, I’m sorry.” you answer, offering him a warm smile to which Jongho seems to take well.

You head to the refrigerator, retrieving a bottle of water, all the while keeping an eye on Wooyoung. His unusual quietness doesn't escape your notice; he appears deeply engrossed in his mug, his typical remarks conspicuously absent. It leaves a noticeable void in the atmosphere, and concern gnaws at you, wondering what might be weighing on his mind and making the space feel somewhat strange.

Just as you muster the courage to inquire about what might be bothering Wooyoung, he abruptly rises from his seat and strides toward the room's exit, heading upstairs. A rush of unease and apprehension washes over you, leaving you feeling suddenly upset and anxious about the abrupt change in his demeanour. For a fleeting moment, you think that you might be the cause, given that he had been perfectly fine just moments before you entered the room.

In response to your unspoken worries, Jongho speaks up, his voice tinged with a touch of concern. "He's fine, ____," he reassures you. "Don't worry."

With a subtle nod, you retreat back into your room, your heart pounding with an unsettling intensity. Fear creeps under your skin like an unwelcome guest. Does Wooyoung no longer have feelings for you? Was his previous confession a mistake? You stand there, facing the closed door, locked in a battle of uncertainty, wondering if you should muster the courage to return and seek answers, all the while grappling with the unsettling unease that has wrapped around you.

The abrupt interruption of your thoughts by your ringing phone startles you. You hastily glance at your bedside table, realising it's responsible for stirring the sleeping giant in your bed, Yunho. For a moment, you'd forgotten he was still there, and you can't help but chuckle at the sight of him, cozied up to one of your stuffed toys. It appears that Yunho is quite the cuddlebug.

Rushing over to your phone, you fumble to silence the ringing, determined not to rouse the slumbering man beside you. As you answer, it's Jisung's voice that greets you on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Ji, what's up?" you whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

"Hey! Why are you whispering?" Jisung's curiosity cuts through the speakers, tinged with a hint of excitement.

You attempt to offer a nonchalant response, although you're not particularly skilled at lying. "No reason, it's just early."

"Okay… we're still meeting in an hour, right?" Jisung inquires, thankfully not probing further into your behaviour.

"Yeah, I just need to shower quickly," you assure him.

"Alright, see you in a bit!" Jisung quickly hangs up, and you can't help but smile at his somewhat chaotic nature.

With your phone now silent, you turn your attention back to the peacefully sleeping Yunho, who seems to have settled even more comfortably with your stuffed toy. You can't help but admire his endearing cuddly side, a stark contrast to the confident and mature persona he often displays. With a warm smile on your face, you prepare to get ready to see Jisung. 

-

Strolling down the pebbled path, the rhythmic sound of your footsteps crunching under the stones echoes softly in the serene surroundings. Your eyes scan the familiar landscape until they land on your best friend, nestled beneath the sprawling canopy of a large blossoming tree. He is deeply engrossed in his notebook, pen dancing across the pages as he pours his thoughts into words. It was a familiar sight, your friend lost in the world of his creativity, likely penning lyrics for another one of his songs.

You had always held a deep appreciation for his creative side. His lyrics and melodies had an uncanny ability to resonate with you, often touching the chords of your own emotions. Each song he crafts is like a piece of his soul laid bare, and you are fortunate to be one of the few who could witness the birth of these lyrical masterpieces. You are then reminded of Mingi and his own creativity. Mingi and Jisung would definitely get along.

Approaching quietly so as not to disrupt his flow, you watch him for a moment. The rays of sunlight filtering through the blossoms above cast gentle patterns of light and shadow over him, accentuating the intent look on his face. His fingers tapping the notebook rhythmically as if coaxing the words from his heart.

Your heart swells with pride for your friend's artistic talents. It was moments like these, witnessing his creative process, that reminded you of the depth of your bond. As he continues to write, you can’t help but smile.

"Hey Ji," you say softly, now standing close enough for him to notice your presence beneath the blossoming tree.

Jisung's head shoots up from his notebook, surprise flickering across his face before breaking into a wide grin. 

"Hey!" He closes the notebook and sets it aside, inviting you to join him in the small patch of shade beneath the tree.

You ease yourself onto the ground beside him, the grass feeling cool and inviting. The delicate scent of blossoms fills the air, and you inhale deeply, savouring the moment. 

"What's the inspiration today?" you ask, gesturing to his notebook.

Jisung's eyes twinkle with excitement as he leans in closer, as though sharing a secret. 

"I've been thinking about that road trip we took last summer, you know, the one to the coast? The waves crashing against the shore, the salt in the air… It's all coming together in my mind."

Your heart flutters with nostalgia at the mention of that memorable journey. You notice Jisung is in a sentimental mood, like he is most of the time when he writes, causing you to feel yourself falling into the same mood. It has always been alien to you how much your and Jisung’s moods can mirror each other.

"I remember it very well," you say, a soft smile playing on your lips. "That sunset was insane.” 

Jisung questions you, his eyes wide and sparkling, “what was your favourite part? I need more inspiration.” 

You ponder on your thoughts, recalling the trip, “probably when we had that huge bonfire, and you were determined to roast marshmallows, but the fire was way too wild and you almost burnt off your eyebrows.” 

Jisung lets out a loud laugh, remembering the scene as if it was yesterday.

You continue, “the smell of the sea, the fresh air. The feeling of freedom...”

Jisung's gaze softens as he gazes at you, his eyes filled with gratitude. 

"Exactly, ____," he whispers. "Those moments, those feelings, nostalgia and feeling free. They're all part of this song."

You can't help but feel touched by his words. It's as if he has a unique ability to capture the emotions and shared experiences and make them into melodies. 

"Well I’m very grateful you love me so much to make a song out of it,” Jisung chuckles before nudging your shoulder with his own. You continue talking, “your songs have a way of making memories even more special," you tell him.

He laughs modestly, running his hand through his hair. "I guess I have a good way of turning what I feel into words."

“That's what makes you special.” 

The two of you sit in companionable silence for a moment, taking in the serenity of the blossoming tree and the memories it holds. It's a place you both frequently visit, a spot of quiet reflection amidst the hustle and bustle of life. The tree’s delicate petals dance in the breeze

Jisung offers you a warm smile as he passes you a croissant. Jisung had brought a small picnic with him, a collection of your favourite snacks and a thermos of hot coffee to ward off the slight chill in the air. The two of you used to do this all the time when you first started this school. The story of your friendship with Jisung traced its origins back to the very first day of university, a day etched in your memory for its mix of confusion and chance.

It had been a chaotic morning. You were a wide-eyed freshman, clutching a stack of textbooks and notebooks to your chest like a lifeline. The huge university campus had felt like a labyrinth, and you had no idea where to find your first class. In your quest for the dean's office, where you hoped to get directions, you navigated through a sea of students, your nerves escalating with every passing minute.

Jisung, on the other hand, had always been something of a whirlwind. He had a tendency to be lost in thought, even while navigating the bustling campus. On that fateful morning, his mind had been consumed by thoughts of class schedules, room numbers, and the whirlwind of university life, along with the gentle hum of music through his headphones.

And so, it happened. You both collided in the weirdest way. You, with your arms full of books and your gaze locked on a campus map, didn't see him coming. Jisung, equally oblivious, was deep in thought, head buried in his own class schedule.

The impact was both comical and chaotic. Books scattered like confetti, your class notes tumbled to the ground, and Jisung's schedule ended up in a similar state of disarray.

For a moment, you both stared at each other, shocked and disoriented. Your books lay in a haphazard pile at your feet, and Jisung's papers fluttered around you like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind.

"I'm so sorry!" the blonde male manages to blurt out, scrambling to pick up his errant schedule. "I didn't see you there. Are you okay?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. "I think so. Are you okay?"

He flashed you a sheepish grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah, just a bit scattered. First day jitters, you know?"

Both gathering your belongings, you realised that this stranger who had literally bumped into your life might be your saving grace on this bewildering first day.

"I'm actually looking for the dean's office," you admitted, your voice tinged with embarrassment. "I'm completely lost."

Jisung's expression brightens as he extends a hand to help you up. "No worries! I'm headed there, too. We can find it together."

From that moment, your friendship with Jisung began to take root. He became your guide through the maze-like university campus, showing you the ropes, introducing you to his group of friends which you found out they were all from the same highschool, and sharing in the ups and downs of the university journey.

The blossoms continued to fall around you, a reminder that even amidst the chaos and uncertainty of life, beautiful friendships could bloom from the most unexpected collisions.

"Isn't this place just magical?" Jisung exclaimed, his eyes scanning the pink and white canopy above. "I can't believe we're graduating this year."

You nodded, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Graduation was indeed on the horizon, and it brought with it a mix of excitement and nostalgia. You cherished these moments with Jisung, knowing that they were soon to become cherished memories.

“You look better, ____. I’m glad the talk went well.” Jisung smiles at you and you recall the talk you had a few days ago. You feel grateful that Jisung doesn't pry for knowledge. 

As you nibble on the croissant, you realise you owe your best friend an explanation of what happened, so you muster up the courage to speak about the topic that had been gnawing at you for a few days. 

"Jisung," you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "there's something I need to talk to you about."

He turns to you, his eyes filled with genuine concern. "Of course, anything. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Taking a deep breath, you decided to dive right in. "It's about the boys. They... they said they have feelings for me, romantic feelings."

The words hung in the air, and the rustling of leaves seemed to hush in anticipation. Jisung's gaze remained steady, his expression an anchor in the sea of emotions swirling within you. There is a visage of shock upon his features, yet he doesn't speak.

"They've all been so kind and caring," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't deny that I've grown close to them, too."

Jisung nods slowly, processing your confession. "I see. That's quite a situation. But that also proves how awesome and lovable of a person you are."

You sigh, a mix of emotions welling up inside you. "I appreciate that, but... I'm scared, Jisung. Scared to give an answer. Scared of hurting them or losing the friendships we've built."

Jisung reaches out and places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the moment. "It's natural to be afraid, especially when it involves the hearts of people you care about. But you can't let that fear paralyse you

You meet his gaze, finding comfort in his wisdom. "But what if I say yes and it ruins everything? What if I say no, and it still changes everything?"

Jisung chuckles softly, his voice carrying a sense of understanding. "Life is full of uncertainties, ____. But it's also full of opportunities for growth and love. You don't have to have all the answers now. Take your time, communicate openly with them, and trust that the bonds you've built can withstand these challenges."

Sipping your coffee, the warmth spreads through you, you can’t help but be grateful for Jisung's presence and wisdom. Jisung, always open and honest, begins to share his own experiences. He speaks about his own relationship, how it hasn’t always been perfect, but how it had thrived because both he and Minho were willing to work through the challenges.

"Love, whether it's romantic or platonic, requires effort," Jisung says, his voice gentle but firm. "It's about understanding, compromise, and a willingness to grow together. Sometimes, things get tough, but it's the willingness to work through those tough times that truly defines a relationship."

You listen intently, savouring his words. His insights shed light on the complexities of love and the importance of communication.

"As for the boys," Jisung continues, "they care about you deeply, and it's clear that you care about them, too. Take the time to understand your own feelings, communicate openly, and remember that love has a way of finding its own path."

"Thank you, Jisung. I knew you'd have the right advice."

He gives you a warm smile, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently. "That's what best friends are for, isn't it? Though I can’t say I'm not jealous."

“What are you saying?” You laugh, questioning his words.

“The Park Seonghwa likes you, along with all of them. They are very good looking.” 

“That’s not the reason I like them, idiot. Their looks are just a huge bonus.” 

“Okay, okay.” 

A mischievous spark dances in your eyes as you decide to inject a playful twist into the conversation. "We kissed."

You delivered the words with a deadpan expression, your voice laced with just the right amount of nonchalance. It was a statement so out of context that you knew it would elicit a humorous reaction from your best friend.

Jisung's eyes widened in surprise, his composed posture coming to an abrupt halt. He blinked at you, clearly taken aback by the unexpected revelation. "What, you kissed Park Seonghwa?" Jisung almost screams as he hears your words.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, all the while trying to shush him in case someone overhears the conversation.

"Jisung you need to learn to control your volume levels," You laugh.

Jisung suddenly scurries towards you on his knees, a mischievous look plastered on his features.

“With tongue or without?” he whispers, as if he is a kid in highschool talking about their first kiss.

“Grow up Jisung,” You laugh loudly at his immature question, Jisung also falling backwards, laughing at himself.

Jisung lets out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "I need to know if I have to buy a suit and a fancy hat for the wedding."

“We are not getting married now, and if you turn up at my wedding with a fancy hat I will not let you in.”

“My fashion ideals are beyond your comprehension.” Jisung rolls his eyes whilst crossing his arms.

Eventually, Jisung turns to you, his eyes filled with curiosity as he seemingly remembers something. "So, what had you whispering into the phone earlier?" he asks, suddenly he gets overly excited, “Did you sleep with Seonghwa?” 

You can't help but blush, feeling somewhat exposed. Jisung knows you well, and secrets between you two are a rarity. "We did not," you reply with a grin. "I was whispering because I might've woken Yunho, but it turned out fine."

“Wait, Yunho? I thought you guys weren't on great terms,”

“Well, he apologised, very well I might add. He made my favourite meal then… we almost kissed in the kitchen, it was intense, you would have screamed Ji. But then Jongho walked in…”

“Ugh, homewrecker,” Jisung rolls his eyes, getting annoyed that Jongho ruined the moment, yet he cannot seem to stay mad at Jongho, seeing as he had become rather fond of him after the confrontation the other day.

“Ji, he just walked in at the wrong time,” you exclaim, slightly exasperated but laughing gently, “Well, in the evening I couldn't sleep because of it so I went to go find Yunho.” 

“Did you guys have sex?” Jisung almost screams, getting way too invested in your story.

Panic surged through you as soon as those words slipped from Jisung's lips. You knew the topic of your roommates and their romantic feelings was something that needed to be kept under wraps, at least for now. You hastily reached out and clamped your hand over Jisung's mouth, your eyes wide with urgency.

"Shh! Jisung, not so loud." you whisper urgently, your voice barely more than a hushed breath. You shot a quick glance around, making sure no one was within earshot.

Jisung's eyes widened in realisation, and he nodded as best as he could beneath the constraint of your hand. You slowly removed your hand, ensuring that the coast was clear before continuing the conversation in a hushed tone.

"We can't let anyone overhear us," you explained quietly. "It's... a complicated situation, and I don't want to cause any unnecessary drama." You say, laughing, but also exasperated by your bestfriends words. “And no, we didn’t.” 

“Oh, I forgot that you’re gonna be a virgin for life,”

“The only reason I'm still a virgin, is because I would have to lose my V card and I never lose. I’m not a loser, I'm too sexy and macho…” 

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Okay.”

You two stay silent for a few moments, before bursting into laughter. As the two of you sit together beneath the blossoming tree, you're reminded once again of the connections that enrich your life. Whether it's sharing creative inspirations with Jisung or quietly embracing moments of friendship, these bonds make life's journey all the more beautiful. The delicate blossoms above seem to nod in agreement, as if nature itself acknowledges the preciousness of these connections.

For a second, you wonder if you should speak to Jisung about the weird message you received last night, then it seems as if Jisung remembers something, his eyes lighting up for a second, causing you to momentarily forget your concerns.

“I am going to a cute cafe this afternoon with Minho and this girl we met at the mall yesterday. You finish at three today, right. Do you maybe want to come?” 

“Mall? I was also there yesterday, I didn't see you guys.” 

“Oh, really? That’s so weird, we were mostly in the game stores.”

“Hmm, that’s why,” you nod in agreement, “but sure that sounds fun.”

“I'll meet you at the East exit then, we will meet them there.”

“Sounds good!”

-

The final lecture of the day concluded, and you couldn't have been more eager to meet up with Jisung at the east wing as planned. As you made your way there, your anticipation grew, and your steps quickened.

True to his nature, Jisung arrived with his usual bright smile, his infectious enthusiasm immediately lifting your spirits. His friendly hug was a warm embrace that signified the beginning of another memorable outing.

"Hey!" he greeted cheerfully, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I hope you're ready for some quality time with your favourite person."

Returning his smile, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation for the day ahead. "Absolutely," you replied, matching his enthusiasm and returning his smile, genuinely looking forward to catching up with Jisung and Minho.

Honestly, you are slightly afraid to meet the new person that Jisung said was coming, you sometimes get awkward meeting new people, so you hope you can find some common interests with them to start a flowing conversation.

Walking together to the cafe, Jisung fills you in on what's been happening in his life, since you told him about yourself in the morning. He talks about his recent adventures, college life, and the projects he and Minho have been working on. Your conversation flows effortlessly, and you feel lucky to have Jisung. Attentively listening to his words, you walk side by side towards the cafe.

“You’re going to love it here, I’ve seen this place all over TikTok.”

Upon arriving at the cafe, you spot Minho already there, sitting with a girl who must be the girl they met at the mall. As you approach, Minho's face lights up, and he stands to greet you with a warm hug. 

"Hey, ____, you look great. I'm glad you're feeling better.” Minho says quietly in your ear, his words full of genuine care.

You reciprocate the hug, feeling instantly welcomed by Minho's friendly demeanour, him not being big on hugs, you relish in the fact he gave you one so carefreely. 

“Thank you, Minho."

When you part from the hug, you notice the sandy blonde haired girl sitting across from Minho and you put your full attention towards her. She offers you a polite smile and a nod of acknowledgement. 

"Hello, nice to meet you, You must be ____." She says, her words pleasant enough, but her tone seems a touch distant, even with a trace of something behind her words, yet you can't quite distinguish what it is.

You take a seat next to Minho, feeling a bit uncertain about the girl’s demeanour. 

“That’s me!” You reply, trying to keep positive and lively. 

“I’m Ryuha,” 

Nodding back, you offer her a smile, and you can't help but notice the way her smile falters ever so slightly. Nevertheless, you continue to hold conversation. Perhaps she is shy around new people.

The small, cosy café gives a warm buzzing atmosphere, the usual clatter of cups and the soft hum of conversations surround you, yet despite the comforting ambience, the vibe that Ryuha is emitting leaves you feeling extremely weird.

As you take a sip of your drink, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you turn your attention to Ryuha. Her presence has been somewhat enigmatic since she arrived, and her dismissive attitude towards you has piqued your interest to say the least. Leaning in slightly, your eyes meet hers, and you can’t help but ask, "So are you going to school around here?"

Ryuha's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, bore into you for a moment before she replies, "No, just visiting here. I go to school by the west coast." Her voice was smooth and measured, but her gaze held an intensity that left you somewhat uneasy.

"That's nice," you continue, trying to keep the conversation flowing and hoping she will warm up to you. "Any reason why you're here?" A warm smile accompanies your words, an attempt to break the ice and bridge the gap that seemed to separate the two of you.

Ryuha's response, however, was far from welcoming. She maintains eye contact with Minho and Jisung, her tone noticeably more pleasant when she answered, "Oh, just exploring a bit, meeting some friends." It was as if an invisible wall had been erected between you and her, and she seemed perfectly content with keeping it firmly in place.

Ryuha continues to engage in the conversation, but something about her body language strikes you as off. While she appears friendly with her words, her eyes occasionally give you a subtly scrutinising look, almost as if she's sizing you up. As the conversation progresses, Ryuha makes comments that are laced with passive-aggressiveness. She offers what seem like compliments, but her tone and expressions suggest otherwise. 

For instance, when you mention your recent accomplishments, she responds with, "That's impressive," but her raised eyebrow and faint scowl make it clear she doesn't entirely mean it. Or when Jisung complimented your outfit and she replied with, “it's definitely…unique.” Again when you mention a book you are enjoying, and she says, “that’s not my cup of tea, but everyone has their own tastes.” 

When the third passive-aggressive comment slips from Ryuha's lips, a subtle but growing sense of irritation begins to gnaw at you. You can’t help but feel a bit upset, wondering why she seemed so fixated on you, creating an atmosphere of discomfort.

Ryuha's persistent comments left you feeling isolated, as if she had singled you out for some unknown reason. It puzzled you why she would choose to be passive-aggressive with you, while her interactions with Jisung and Minho were filled with kindness.

Despite the growing unease, you opted to maintain your composure. You weren't one to engage in confrontations, especially with someone you had just met. Instead, you focused on the positive aspects of the gathering, cherishing the time spent with Jisung and Minho, and hoping that the mysterious tension created by Ryuha's comments would eventually dissipate.

It is when the subject of dating comes up that Ryuha suddenly seems awfully curious all of a sudden. 

Ryuha leans in slightly, her tone carrying a touch of curiosity as she asks, "So, do you have any boyfriends?"

Jisung, ever the friendly and open one, began to answer, "Well, she—"

But you do not let him finish. Something about Ryuha's tone and the way she had been subtly probing throughout the conversation put you on edge. You met Ryuha's gaze with a polite yet guarded expression, deciding to take control of the narrative.

"I'm not seeing anyone at the moment," you reply evenly, your words carefully chosen. It wasn't that you were opposed to sharing, but you had a gut feeling that Ryuha might have ulterior motives for gathering such information. Your trust wasn't easily earned, and you weren't about to hand over personal details to someone you had just met.

“Interesting.”

Jisung, catching on to your hesitation, offers a supportive nod and changes the topic, steering the conversation toward lighter subjects. Ryuha, though her curiosity remained apparent, seemed to respect your boundaries, at least for the time being.

“How about you?” You ask, trying to continue the conversation and ignore the awkward atmosphere that has shaped around you.

“I’m not seeing one at the moment, but I’m interested… they will likely be mine soon.” 

Ryuha's eyes locked onto yours with an unwavering intensity, the sudden wave of confidence in her statement became overwhelmingly intimidating. It was as if she possessed an uncanny ability to dissect your thoughts and emotions, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. At that moment, you are almost certain that there is something behind her cryptic comments.

Glancing over at Minho, who is seated next to Ryuha, you cannot help but notice the baffled and almost disgusted expression on his features. It makes you bite back a smile when you realise it is clear that he has caught onto Ryuha's dismissive and rude behaviour. Seeing his reaction provides reassuring confirmation that you weren't imagining things, Ryuha was indeed being impolite and disrespectful.

The silent acknowledgement between you and Minho serves as a small source of solace amidst the uncomfortable atmosphere created by Ryuha's demeanour. It is a silent reminder that you weren't alone in your assessment of the situation, and that there was validity in your discomfort.

Yet, when you shift your gaze to Jisung, who is still lively and enthusiastically chatting with Ryuha, it becomes evident that he has not caught on to her behaviour. His obliviousness to the underlying tension provides a stark contrast to Minho's reaction, highlighting the complexity of the situation.

The conversation flows, yet you cannot shake the feeling that there was more to Ryuha's inquiries than simple curiosity. You decide to stay cautious and trust your instincts when it comes to sharing personal information, especially with someone whose intentions remain shrouded in mystery.

Throughout the conversation, you notice that Ryuha's attention frequently drifts away whenever you speak. It's as though she's dismissive of your words, and you can't help but feel a growing sense of discomfort. Her actions don't align with the polite facade she maintains with her words.

Despite her subtle rudeness, you remain polite and try to engage in the conversation as best as you can. It's important to you that you make a good impression and enjoy this time with Jisung, Minho, and their friend, even though Ryuha's presence remains a mysterious and somewhat uncomfortable aspect of the gathering.

It takes an hour for the gathering at the cafe to come to an end, you have to stop Minho twice from saying something back to Ryuha as she issues yet another passive aggressive comment in your direction. You would rather not have to face a conflict in the middle of a bustling cafe.

The moment you step out of the café and feel the cool breeze on your skin, it is as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. The atmosphere inside had been heavy with tension, and the sense of relief outside is a welcome change. You take a deep breath, savouring the crispness of the afternoon air.

Turning to leave, you are taken aback when Ryuha turns toward you, her sharp gaze still fixed on you. She speaks, her voice smooth and confident, with a hint of something you can’t quite place. "It was nice to meet you, finally," she says, her words hanging in the air.

You furrow your brow, utterly perplexed by her statement. The two of you had never met before today, and you were sure of it. What does she mean by "finally"? You can’t help but wonder if there had been some misunderstanding.

"I mean, Jisung told me so much about you yesterday," Ryuha continues, her tone carrying a sense of familiarity that left you feeling slightly out of place. Her words added to the growing puzzle, as you tried to reconcile her earlier dismissive attitude with this newfound knowledge. 

“Anyways, I have places to be. There’s something important I need to do.” 

Her enigmatic behaviour continues, leaving you with more questions than answers. Watching as she exchanges warm goodbyes with Minho and Jisung, you cannot help but notice that she doesn’t bid you farewell, further deepening the mystery surrounding her intentions.

“Holy shit, remind me to never meet with her again.” Minho exclaims as soon as he sees Ryuha out of earshot.

“What? She was so nice.” Jisung says, confused to what Minho is saying.

“I’m sorry babe, but you have to have your head up your ass to not see she was a raging bitch. Are you okay?” Minho asks as he turns towards you, scanning you for any trace of discomfort.

“Minho what are you saying? What happened?” Jisung questions, oblivious to the situation.

“It's nothing Ji, she was just kind of off.” You reply, not wanting to start something yet also getting slightly irritated at Jisung’s way to easily trust people.

“Wait, was she?” Jisung questions, yet starting to believe you, seeing as he knows you are able to see through most people.

“She was weird as fuck, almost a pick me, ew.” Minho contributes, a disgusted look on his face, which almost makes you laugh.

“I don't know, I thought she was nice.”

“You're just going to have to trust us, she was strange,” Minho replies.

“Okay…then I hate her. If you don't like her neither do I.” 

Laughing gently, you feel grateful for Jisung’s complete understanding. The three of you start to walk towards your respective homes.

“Do you know what is even weirder?” You say after a few moments of silence, judging by the curious looks on your friends face, you decide to continue, “she is so familiar, yet I cannot for the life of me put a name, place, to a face.” 

“Creepy.” Minho says, with another disgusted face.

“Maybe you met her before and you were mean?” Jisung adds before correcting himself, “nevermind, I don't think you've been mean to anyone in your life.” 

Minho hums in agreement before going deep into contemplation, then speaking once more, “Whatever it is, hopefully we never see her again.”

All you can do is nod in agreement, a profound sense of gratitude filling your body.

-

After entering the house, you automatically kick off your shoes and hang your coat, a familiar routine that brings a sense of normalcy to your day. However, something catches your attention, something that doesn't quite fit the usual order of things.

The basement door stands slightly ajar.

Your brow furrows in confusion because you distinctly recall that this door is typically kept shut. In fact, you've walked past it countless times without giving it much thought, almost forgetting the existence of a basement altogether. It's a part of the house that you haven't had the chance to explore since moving in.

A wave of curiosity washes over you, particularly as you recollect the conversation you had with Wooyoung and Yeosang about converting the basement into a movie room. With the day's confusing events and the strange messages gnawing at your nerves, the idea of seeking some comfort becomes rather appealing. The prospect of losing yourself in a movie before dinner sounds like a welcome distraction from the mysteries of the day.

Tentatively, you push the basement door open wider, the hinges creaking softly as if revealing a long forgotten secret. The descent into the basement is dimly lit, and as you take the first step, your heart races with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

The air grows cooler as you make your way downstairs, and you're struck by the transformation of the basement. The space has been meticulously converted into a cosy movie room, complete with plush bean bags, cushions, and a projection screen that spans one of the walls. The soft, warm glow of fairy lights traces the contours of the room, casting a magical ambiance that feels like a comforting embrace. The aroma of freshly popped popcorn hung in the air, adding an inviting touch to the atmosphere.

Strolling through the room, your eyes take in every detail of its inviting setup. In the midst of the warm ambiance, you spot Wooyoung. He is lounging on a sofa, his back turned towards you, his gaze seemingly lost in deep contemplation. Approaching him, you can’t help but notice that the usual playfulness that usually defines him has been somewhat subdued. It is a stark contrast to the vibrant, charismatic Wooyoung you had grown accustomed to.

A soft, genuine smile graces your lips as you greet him, your voice carrying a soothing undertone that seemed to resonate with the room's tranquillity. "Hey, Wooyoung."

He turns to look at you, slightly surprised by your presence, yet his smile is warm but tinged with a hint of melancholy. 

"Hey muffin," he replies, his eyes holding a depth you have not seen before.

Taking a seat beside him, you turn to face him, “How has your day been?” You attempt to strike up a conversation, excitement evident in your tone. You haven't had much alone time with Wooyoung, you are excited for this time together.your concern evident in your eyes. 

“It was fine,” he replies, his smile not reaching his eyes, like it usually does.

"Is something bothering you?" you ask, your voice filled with genuine worry. "You've seemed a bit different lately."

Sinking into the plush couch in the dimly lit movie room, a strange sense of unease washes over you. It's as if the comforting embrace of the room has given way to an eerie feeling of vulnerability. The malicious messages you have been receiving, the slightly ajar basement door, and now this unsettling thought creep into your mind, and you can't help but feel a wave of fear.

Suddenly, your thoughts become a turbulent whirlwind, and a nagging doubt begins to gnaw at you. Could it be that Wooyoung, the one you had grown so close to, no longer has the same feelings for you? The idea takes root in your mind, and irrational fears start to twist your perception of reality.

You remember the somewhat subdued demeanour he displayed earlier in the kitchen. Your mind starts to interpret it as a sign of detachment, as though he's pulling away.

The warmth of the movie room, once so comforting, now feels like a suffocating cocoon of uncertainty. Your heart races, and a lump forms in your throat. What if it was all a mistake? What if your connection with Wooyoung was just a fleeting moment, destined to fade away?

In the dim light, your mind conjures up all sorts of scenarios, each one more distressing than the last. You want to shake off these irrational fears, to find solace in the familiar sanctuary of the movie room, but the grip of anxiety is relentless.

Wooyoung cuts off your thoughts by sighing softly, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting yours and it seems as if he was reading your mind. "I still really like you, ____," he admits, his voice laced with vulnerability. "But... I'm a little scared."

His confession takes you by surprise, and you search his eyes for an explanation. "Scared? Of what?"

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, a habit of his when he is unsure of how to express himself. "I've always been flirty, you know? It's just who I am. But I've never felt this strongly about someone before, and it's... intimidating."

Your heart swells with understanding and compassion. Reaching out, you gently place your hand on his. "Wooyoung, you don't need to be afraid of your feelings. It's okay to care deeply about someone."

He seems relieved by your understanding but presses on. "I'm also afraid that you might see me as a playboy, or someone who's not interested in something serious because of how I act."

Shaking your head, you offered reassurance. "I don't see you that way, Wooyoung. People are complex. Your playful side doesn't define your capacity for something real and meaningful."

Wooyoung smiles tentatively, grateful for your words. "And there's something else," he admits, his voice softer. "Back in high school, I didn't talk to you much. I worry that you don't like me as much as the others because of that."

You let out a sigh, understanding his insecurity. "Wooyoung, it's not a competition. I care about all of you equally, and I have precious memories with each of you. High school was a long time ago, and people change. You've shown me a different side of you, and I appreciate it."

Wooyoung's smile grew wider, a mixture of relief and gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you, muffin," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I needed to hear that."

Giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, you smile back at him. 

"Anytime, Wooyoung. We're all here for each other, remember? I’m here for you."

Intertwining your fingers, Wooyoung holds onto your hand gently, the action making your heart race as you share a smile with him. The both of you settle back into the plush cushions, surrounded by the warm embrace of the fairy lights, you knew that this moment was a step towards a deeper understanding and connection.

"I really like you, Wooyoung." The words escape your lips in a whisper, soft and filled with sincerity, and it's as if the world around you holds its breath, waiting for his response. In that moment, everything seems to hang in the balance, your vulnerability exposed in the dimly lit movie room.

For Wooyoung, those words are a revelation, a cascade of emotions that threaten to overwhelm him. His heart flutters, and he feels a warmth spreading from deep within. It's a feeling he's been yearning for, yet never quite dared to voice.

"Thank you for liking me, all of you," you continue, your voice holding a gentle grace that resonates with him. It's a sentiment that he's been unable to express, a gratitude that goes beyond words. 

“How can we not?”

Wooyoung hesitates for only a moment, his emotions too strong to contain. In one fluid motion, he pulls you close, enfolding you in a warm, earnest hug. The position is a bit awkward, given that you're both sitting, but at that moment, neither of you cares about comfort or convention.

Your bodies are pressed together, and it feels like an unspoken promise. In the embrace, there's a sense of completeness, of two souls finding solace in each other's presence. Tears well up in Wooyoung's eyes, and he holds you tighter, as if afraid that this beautiful moment might slip away. The dimly lit movie room bears witness to this intimate connection, the air filled with unspoken emotions. 

In this tight embrace, you both find comfort, solace, and a shared understanding that goes beyond any uncertainties or fears. It's a simple yet heartfelt affirmation of your feelings for each other, a promise to explore the uncharted territory of your hearts together. The cosy movie room seemed to hold its breath, as if recognizing the significance of this moment.

With a sense of shared understanding and comfort, you and Wooyoung turn your attention to the old projector, both blushing profusely, ready to lose yourselves in the world of cinema. The room, with its warm glow and soft furnishings, felt like a cocoon of safety, shielding you both from the uncertainties of the outside world.

As the movie begins, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Wooyoung. The flickering light of the screen cast a mesmerising glow on his features, highlighting the handsome contours of his face. His eyes sparkled with a quiet intensity, and a soft genuine smile tugged at his lips.

You couldn't help but admire how effortlessly handsome he looked, the warm illumination accentuating every angle of his face. Your gaze falls upon a tiny mole just beneath his eye, a charming imperfection that somehow added to his allure. Another mole adorned his lip, drawing your attention like a magnetic force.

For a moment, an intrusive thought crosses your mind; the idea of kissing that mole on his lip. It was a fleeting fantasy, a tempting daydream that brushed against your consciousness like a gentle breeze. But as quickly as it appeared, you banished the thought, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush at its audacity.

Your gaze lingers on Wooyoung's charming mole beneath his lip, you're drawn into a brief reverie, a fantasy that dances at the edge of your thoughts. However, before you can dismiss the whimsical notion entirely, something unexpected happens.

Wooyoung, ever perceptive, notices your lingering gaze. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes, and he offers a playful, enticing proposition. "You know," he begins, his voice a low, husky whisper that carries a hint of amusement, "if you're thinking about kissing this mole..."

He raises a single finger, gently tracing it over the tiny mole on his lip, his lips curving into a sly, teasing smile. "You're more than welcome to give it a try."

Your heart skips a beat at his audacious invitation. It's a playful dare, a flirtatious challenge that Wooyoung has always been known for. A rush of emotions floods your senses – surprise, anticipation, and a flicker of desire. It's a moment filled with unspoken tension, a playful dance between temptation and restraint.

For a moment, you're left in a tantalising dilemma, caught between the allure of his suggestion and the awareness of your surroundings in the cosy movie room. The glow of the screen casts soft, shifting shadows, creating an atmosphere of intimacy that's hard to resist.

As you steal another glance at Wooyoung's inviting lips, a thousand thoughts race through your mind. It's a choice you have to make, a moment that teeters on the edge of something more profound, all set against the backdrop of a movie playing in the background.

"Dinner's ready!" a voice calls from upstairs, breaking the enchanting moment between you and Wooyoung. Startled by the interruption, you hastily stand up from the couch, your heart still racing from the intense emotions that had been building.

Wooyoung lets out an almost inaudible groan of frustration, clearly annoyed at the timing of the interruption. He rises from the couch as well and follows closely behind you as you ascend the staircase. However, just as you're about to take that final step to exit the basement, Wooyoung gently grabs your waist, his touch both firm and gentle.

Your back is pressed against the wall, the proximity between you and Wooyoung electrifying. He stands on the step just below you, his eyes almost meeting yours, him looking up at you with wide eyes, and you can feel the tension in the air. It's as if the missed opportunity from just seconds ago has come full circle, and now, you both find yourselves on the cliff of something unspoken.

His eyes, filled with a glint of longing and vulnerability, look up at you, and a moment of intense connection passes between you two. It's a gaze that speaks of unspoken desires and a tantalising yearning. Your heart flutters, and you can't help but feel flustered by the close proximity, your thoughts racing with the possibilities of what could happen next.

Wooyoung's expression is one of longing, like a lost puppy seeking comfort and affection. His eyes are filled with an unspoken question, a silent plea for something more. You imagine what it would be like to lean down and capture his lips in a tender kiss, to explore the depths of this uncharted territory that beckons.

But the knowledge that dinner is waiting and the awareness of your surroundings pull you back to reality. The moment remains suspended in time, an unresolved tension that lingers in the air. Wooyoung gazes up at you, the glint in his eyes ignites your imagination, and you can't help but wonder what might happen in a different situation, if he was looking up at you in a different situation.

"The offer is always open," Wooyoung murmurs, his voice a warm invitation as he gently pulls you closer, your lips nearly touching in a tantalising promise of a kiss. His breath caresses your lips, and the world around you seems to fade into the background.

"My lips are yours," he whispers, his words a sweet promise that lingers in the air. The moment is charged with desire, and you can feel your heart racing as you lean in, ready to close the distance and savour the taste of his lips.

But just as your lips are about to meet in a gentle kiss, Wooyoung moves away, leaving you breathless and wanting. He looks at you, his eyes roaming over your flustered state, a smug sense of pride blossoming within him as he senses the desire that courses through your veins.

With a sly and teasing smile, he turns away and heads to the kitchen for dinner, leaving you standing there, your heart still pounding, and aching for the taste of what could have been. The promise of that kiss lingers in the air, a tantalising reminder of the unspoken desires that simmer between you and Wooyoung, just waiting for the right moment to ignite.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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[etherealising]

chapter eight | to see a friend, to see a ghost

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: a secret you’ve been keeping from carmen finally comes to light.

warning(s): grief | death | loss | substance abuse recovery | substance abuse | addiction | miscarriage described as a health scare | miscarriage described as being sick | suicidal thoughts | suicidal ideation | hurt | comfort | crying | make-up | rekindling an old friendship | mutual pining | denial of desires | maturity | mature decisions | carmy finally putting baby’s wellbeing before his own | unresolved romantic tension | re-learning your person | angst | suffering | self-deprecating talk | please let me know if i missed anything!

wc: 8.9k

song inspo: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 (highly recommend to add to the heartbreak!)

If it was any later and the sky was any darker, you might have been startled by the figure waiting on your porch. But as you approached, arms occupied with bags full of decorations, you recognized that patch color jacket, and the baseball cap not doing nearly enough to disguise his features.

Stopping before your steps you just looked at the person for a minute, the man was obviously zoned out if he hadn’t already been alerted to your presence from the sound of your car arriving and now the slap of your boots against the pavement.

When you left that voicemail earlier, you hadn’t expected Carmy to take immediate action, it wasn’t like him. You also didn’t expect him to show up unannounced but maybe you should’ve waited before sending your address in that group text.

You made your way up the steps, the jingling keys in your hand finally drew the man’s attention, and the speed at which he flew off the chair situated on your porch was almost comical. Your eyes darted to his, taking in what you could see of his figure that wasn’t hidden behind his jacket or hat. He held two paper bags in one hand and the package you had been expecting in the other, sure the delivery driver just left it with him.

The silence stretched between the two of you. You could see Carmen begin to fidget in your peripheral vision; good he deserved to be uncomfortable for a minute or two.

Finally unlocking the door you pushed through, pausing to take your shoes off. The man behind you hesitated, not sure if he should move forward to follow behind you or not. He took a minute before stepping forward, your eyes meeting his as you stood between his only entrance.

“I don’t remember inviting you in,” it was harsh, but it was also the truth.

He stopped for a moment, cheeks flushing pink as he cleared his throat, “Can I uh, is it okay if I come in?”

It would have been easy to deny him access, leave him out here on your porch, or even allow him to squirm more. But you could hear Pete’s words playing in your mind as you thought of all the petty things you wanted to do at that moment.

You let out an exasperated sigh the constant back and forth between the two of you was finally catching up. You nodded before heading to your living room to drop the bags off on the couch, the open door an invitation for the man on your porch. The bags were safely deposited on your couch as you moved to head into your kitchen, stopping short as you spotted Carmy still standing in your foyer.

A chuckle escaped your lips at the awkward man. You made your way to him, stopping in front of him and taking the package from his hand and the two grocery bags. “You can leave your shoes and jacket out here.” You left him standing alone in the foyer, confident he would find his way to you eventually.

Carmen watched as you disappeared further into your house, the man quickly shedding his shoes and accessories, stopping at the mirror by the coat rack to tame his messy hat hair. He felt like a teenager all over again, fussing over how he would present himself to you. Carmy moved in the direction you had gone in, steps slowing as he tried to take in everything he could about your abode, from the decorations to the colors swatched on your walls. It all reminded him of things he missed out on with you, would you have gushed to him about the prospect of owning a home? Would you have asked his opinion on design choices?

The two of you had once gone to each other for everything, and because he was afraid of being completely vulnerable to his feelings for you, he felt like a stranger on the outside looking in.

He found you in the kitchen, eyes locked on the bottle of wine in your hands he brought with him, “You uh…talked about how much you loved it back in New York so I-I thought it might be nice to have it again.”

Your index finger traced the label of the bottle in your hand, memories of that weekend flooding through you, but that’s just what they were; memories. It was the present day now and no matter the itch you felt to let the red wine warm your mouth, drink enough of it to dull your senses, you wouldn’t allow yourself to.

“What are we doing Carmen?” The bottle of red was gently placed on your island as you looked at the man standing in the space just between your kitchen and living room.

Seeing him in a space that had been wholly your own felt a little weird, you didn’t want to think about the times you imagined what it would’ve been like to share such a space with him as you watched him stand in your house like he was meant to be there; like he belonged.

“I got your voicemail,” you leaned your elbows on the counter propping your head up as you listened. “This is me accepting your olive branch, I just…wanna make things right between us..” The explanation pulled a sigh from your lips, fingers tracing patterns into the marble island beneath you. You left the voicemail with the assumption that it would take Carmen a bit to get back to you, he had never been adamant about fixing your relationship before.

“You also have something I need,” Carmen watched as you raised your eyebrows, eyes leaving the spot you were tracing.

“And what would that be?” The scar between your eyebrows felt tight as your face pulled into a frown, your brain wandering to figure out what you could possibly have that Carmen would need.

Carmen sent a small smile your way, “Let’s cook and we’ll talk about it after.” You watched as the man joined you on the opposite side of your island reaching to remove the rest of the food from their bags.

The genuine laugh that bubbled out of your chest filled Carmy with warmth, “Do you always walk into people's houses and try and negotiate?”

Carmy did his best to control the warm fluttery feeling in his chest, the weeks without you were hard and the fact that your laugh could ease his full body ache was enough for him to realize just how much he wanted you as a constant in his life. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far.”

A silence lapsed between the two of you as you helped unpack the rest of the food. This whole situation felt like a bad idea, you definitely weren’t over Carmen’s stunt or the previous incidents where he let you down. But you had been skating through this year on borrowed time, and the time apart helped to calm your anger, you felt like you were in a much more level headed place to finally figure out what the hell this thing was between the two of you. And Pete’s words at lunch helped to give you a new perspective on the whole situation.

“What the hell are we even making?” Baking was your preferred form of cooking, so as you looked at all the ingredients laid out it was a bit confusing to piece the meal together.

The sound of your voice warmed Carmen’s senses, the silky tone danced through his ears buzzing against his brain. “Chicken Marsala.”

You nodded, declining a glass of wine with dinner was one thing, but now looking at the new bottle of Marsala that would be in your meal, you’d have to decline the whole dinner.

“That sounds so fucking delicious but I…I actually can’t eat it.”

Carmen stopped his ministrations with the ingredients, “No you’re good I uh I didn’t get anything you’re allergic to.” His eyes darted across the ingredients double checking that he hadn’t bought any compromising ingredients.

“Thank you, Carm, your consideration is thoughtful.” The extra measure made your heart rate speed up.

It was crazy really how the same man standing in your kitchen swearing up and down he didn’t buy any foods you were allergic to, could also be the same man who came across as uncaring.

“I appreciate the effort I do but…” Your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest. How could you admit to your best friend, the person who once knew you most, that almost a year ago you were staring at blank hospital walls as some doctor explained to both you and Natalie just how close to death you were? “Carmy I-”

The hand resting on your elbow helped to calm your breathing, it wasn’t like you weren’t ready to admit your overdose to Carmy, you were just worried about the aftermath. “Baby hey, you with me?” You felt the hand skate down your arm, Carmy’s thumb soothingly caressing your pulse point.

You turned to face Carmen searching his eyes, doing your best to memorize the way he looked at you, unsure if you’d ever be graced with this intimate gaze again. “Carmen I…I’ve been sober for 7 months.”

The silence in your kitchen was loud, You needed Carmy to say something to you, yell at you, call you a hypocrite for blowing up on him all those weeks ago when you had been the one lying to him this whole time. It would be easier if the blank wide-eyed look on his face morphed into one of disgust, hatred, hell any emotion would’ve been welcome. “You fuckin’ with me right?” The apprehension in his voice was the result of not knowing if he could bear to hear the idea that something so heinous could plague you.

The wobble of your bottom lip was enough, Carmen’s eyes skated across your face landing on the three prominent features that had been added to your appearance; the tiny scar on your upper lip, the one between your brows, and the jagged raised one stretching the length of your jaw.

The breath in your throat hitched as his finger slowly traced the long scar, the touch sent shivers through you. Your eyes watched him as he watched you, finger deliberately taking in the pattern on your jaw, his hand unconsciously moved to cup your face in the way he liked, forefinger pressed into your hidden tattoo as his thumb began caressing the corner of your lips.

“What the fuck happened to you, Baby?”

The shower you just finished was much needed, Carmy volunteering to pick up different ingredients while you relaxed before the two of you began this search for the truth. He didn’t say it but you knew he needed some time to internalize the small piece of truth you told him, to rationalize just how much you had gone through in your time apart.

You could hear Carmen shuffling around in your kitchen as you stepped out of the bathroom, steam following you out. Grabbing your moisturizer you moved to sit on the edge of your bed, mind racing to figure out what you were even doing putting yourself in this situation.

These past three weeks without Carmen felt needed, you were thankful for the time apart to focus on yourself and your wellbeing. But it always felt like there was a piece of you missing, it felt like that every time the two of you parted ways. The difference was instead of spending the time apart worrying over Carmy every minute you had finally put yourself first, and began living for yourself just like Tina had advised all those years ago.

And while a part of you wanted to continue this childish charade of ignoring Carmy, only showing up at the restaurant when Richie assured you he wouldn’t be there; you couldn’t. It took too much energy to live your life around Carmen’s especially since the two of you were so much more involved with each other than you had been in a while. Even without Pete’s words of advice, you could see the toll it was taking on the people around you. Natalie was too scared to even mention her brother for fear you’d have a meltdown. Richie’s anger for your situation souring his relationship with Carmen. And Carmen himself, he who had become a haggard sunken-in version of himself, the time apart affected him the worst his patience nowhere to be seen from the few times Richie had offhandedly mentioned him in your presence.

The two of you had been in each other's lives for longer than you could remember and you didn’t want to lose that friendship over your pride. During your time away from Carmen, you had come to the decision that you would be fine if all that was fated to be between you two was a friendship.

More recently you had decided that maybe it was for the best, maybe the two of you were never meant for anything more, anything good. Maybe it was naive to think you deserved anything good with all the hurt your selfish choices caused. Maybe it was best not to take any time and attention away from your recovery. This friendship was just a whole bunch of fucking ‘maybes’ recently.

But one could say that ‘friendship’ went out the window when the two of you crossed that blurred line a year ago.

You paused as your hand reached for the old crew neck you’d usually sleep in, as much as you loved the garment you couldn’t allow yourself to give Carmen any false hope about what would come from this. Walking into your closet you quickly grabbed your oversized ‘The Beef’ crew neck, slipping it over your head before stepping into your sleep shorts and a pair of fuzzy socks.

Exiting your bedroom you stopped by your record player, buying yourself time before you’d have to face Carmen and all the truth that would be exposed in this one conversation alone. You flicked through your vinyl selection before picking your favorite one, needing something comforting for everything that was bound to transpire.

You entered your kitchen seeing Carmy’s back at your stove sent an ache through you. The man cooking in your kitchen was a vision you had more than once, it was almost right, the only thing missing was the small figure you imagined standing in a chair next to Carmy watching from over his shoulder.

“Smells delicious Carm,” you sent a tired smile his way as he looked over his shoulder at you, eyes falling just above his own, no courage left in you to take in the look he was giving you. “What did you end up cooking?” Carmen’s eyes were stuck to you, your words falling on deaf ears, you fidgeted in your spot, the insecurity of being judged by the one person you didn’t think you could handle it from, weighed heavy on you.

Carmen cleared his throat as he watched you sink into yourself. He hadn’t meant to make you feel any type of way with his stare, he was just having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that things had been so bad for you and he had no idea because of his selfish inclinations. “It’s uh Chicken Alfredo, I thought it was safest.”

The air in the kitchen was tense, neither of you knowing how to be around the other at this moment, and you hadn’t even gotten down to the harsh truth of everything yet. “Can you…uh what do you mean you’re sober? I-I know what it means jus-I,” you watched as Carmy closed his eyes, a huff escaping him as he couldn’t articulate what he wanted to say. “Baby, help me understand. Please?”

You could hear the thickness in Carmy’s voice, the two of you watching each other with matching glazed stares. You stood frozen for a minute, your fight or flight instincts kicking in and it took everything in you not to leave the conversation as it was. A sigh escaped you before you nodded your head and hopped to sit on the island, fingers picking at the stray threads on your shorts.

Carmy turned the fire on the stove down before turning to lean against the counter next to your stove, the two of you now facing each other. The distance between you felt like it stretched on for miles, and maybe it did, the two of you didn’t know each other like you once used to. You and Carmy weren’t the same teenagers who shared everything, even the smiles you shared at this point in life held a different meaning.

You never knew where to start this story, was it better to ease the person in, or was it better to just rip the band-aid off all at once? “Now that I’m better I don’t think any reason was good enough for what I did to myself…what I did to the people I love. But uh, Mikey’s death was definitely a catalyst for everything.” You looked up to see Carmy watching you intensely, arms crossed over his chest, you can’t remember a time you’d ever seen him look so serious.

“I was alone, and maybe that’s just an excuse. We…we just buried Mikey, and I was scared to believe he was really gone, it didn’t feel right. I didn’t want it to be true.” You sucked in a deep breath trying to gather your thoughts. “I stayed in Chicago for a long time after that, your mom…gosh she was a mess and I understood why her grief was valid, but I…I just knew Nat couldn’t, didn’t deserve to fix things alone, so I just kept extending my stay.” The small sigh Carmen breathed was lost as you settled more and more into your explanation.

“An-And Richie was doing his fucking best to keep The Beef open but I could tell it was taking a toll on him. Tiff had filed for divorce just months ago and then he was dealing with Mikey’s passing. And I think, I thought if I just helped everyone get better I wouldn’t need to grieve, because I was surrounded by all the people I loved, and their wellbeing mattered most to me.” Carmen’s eyes stayed on your figure allowing your words to settle into him, it hurt knowing how much slack you had to pick up because he couldn’t bring himself to face the music.

Quiet sniffles came from where you sat atop the island. “Carm, you weren’t there…and I promise I’m not blaming you for the decisions I made, none of that is on you. But I just wanted my best friend, and I just needed to know you were okay. And when you weren’t at the funeral my mind went to the worst thoughts first. But then I…I just showed up in New York and you acted like your world wasn’t ending and then I just felt selfish because how was it that your brother just died and I was the one acting like I’d lost the person I looked up to most.” Carmy could feel his chest tighten, your words becoming less and less easy to swallow the more you spoke.

“And for a moment it was like the world stopped screaming like all I needed was your presence to assure me that everything would be okay,” a small sad smile rose to your lips as you thought about your time spent with Carmy in New York. “It-it was blissful and everything I wanted but I knew it was ending, we both knew it was ending you didn’t see a future with me.” You had to stop yourself, a sob sure to be ripped out if you didn’t give yourself a minute, “And I accepted your decision, it was for the best.”

You hugged your knees to your chest, barely beginning to scratch the surface of the worst of what you’d done. The new position provided you the comfort and protection you felt you needed. “I got back to Chicago, and I was only supposed to be here for a few more weeks but then…then I-I got sick and Rich-.” You clasped your hands over your mouth unsure if you could lay all your indiscretions on Carmy at once, unsure if you could mentally handle the toll the two confessions you desperately needed to make would take on you.

Rough palms enclosed your cheeks, moving your head so that you were face to face with Carmy. You could see the unshed tears in his doe-blue eyes, but other than that he didn’t seem to be affected. “Take your time, yeah?” He nodded his head waiting for you to nod along with him so you knew it was okay. The left side of his lips ticked up in a half smile, you let him lean in and place a delicate kiss on your forehead before he moved out of your space. “I’m here okay, I’ll listen for as long as you let me.”

Carmen was making this harder than it needed to be, how could you justify telling him one secret and not the other when he was being so understanding? Carmy made to move back to his original position, your grip on his hand stopping him, a quiet sigh escaping his lips at how fragile you looked. “Lemme turn off the stove okay?” You reluctantly let go of his hand, scared that at the loss of contact, he would take his chance to flee from you.

You watched as he turned the stove off, moving the food he had been cooking to the back burners, you felt bad that he had cooked for the two of you and neither of you would be enjoying it. He moved around the kitchen fear spiking in you as you thought for sure he was going to leave, to wipe his hands of you. He returned to you with a glass of water that he delicately placed in your hands before replacing your legs to their original position and taking his spot between them. Carmy’s finger tapped the glass in your hands “Drink up.” A small nod was your only response as you did as told you before setting the glass down beside you.

Carmy returned his hand to your grasp nodding to let you know he was ready to continue if you were, you took one last deep breath mind made up on how you would handle the rest of this conversation. “He uh Richie, he found me in the walk-in. You know that moment when you know something is wrong but you don’t know how you know. It was kind of like that, like Richie and I both knew I had done something wrong and Carmy,” your voice quivered as your eyes met his, the tears falling at a faster pace as he looked at you so earnestly, hanging onto every word you said. “I’m so sorry.”

Carmen’s brows furrowed, eyes widening as you collapsed against him incoherent apologies addressed to him spewing from your lips. His head came to rest atop of yours as you shoved your face into his chest your words turned to messy babbling as you tried to choke out words through your sobs. For all his social ineptitude Carmy knew there was something you weren’t telling him, something you weren’t being entirely honest about, and he wasn’t sure how it tied into your sobriety. But the way you were apologizing to him made him feel like he was partly responsible.

Your cries were beginning to grow in volume and Carmy was at a loss for what to do. He’d seen you cry before, hell he’d caused most of it but he couldn’t recognize you at this moment. The sobs that escaped you were echoing through the quietude of your house, you had never been an audible crier, usually a few tears escaping your eyes were the most Carmen had gotten. But these cries wracked your entire body, Carmy could feel them rattling his rib cage each sob breaking his exterior down more and more.

He wrapped his arms around you letting your tears soak his shirt, his tears beginning to run down his cheeks. The grip he had on you tightened ever so slightly as you sobbed your throat raw. Carmen needed to know what could’ve caused this reaction, he needed to know what you could ever have to apologize to him for. He felt you moving to get out of his grip, but he held you there as his tears dripped into the crown of your head, quickly wiping his eyes before he pulled back from you allowing you a fresh breath of oxygen.

“Carmy?” Your voice was scratchy as you played with his fingers avoiding any form of eye contact, you raised his knuckles to your lips kissing the ‘ou’ on his middle and ring finger. “Could you hold me for a little bit?” You raised your head to Carmy’s doing your best to send him a reassuring smile, to let him know everything would be okay.

Carmen frowned, he knew that smile anywhere. Even when you were so obviously going through something he couldn’t quite yet understand you would put his feelings before your own. He let out an exasperated sigh your need to put others well being before your own a habit he swore to himself he’d break.

The hand you kissed raised to your face, a light grip on your chin as his thumb caressed the space beneath your lower lip. Carmy leaned forward placing a soft lingering kiss on the scar between your eyebrows, “Let’s take a break yeah?” Carmy watched your body deflate.

He took a step back as you hopped off of the island, the two of you moving to your L-shaped couch. Carmy laid down opening his arms to hold you like the two of you had done hundreds of times while growing up. He knew the gesture would pull a smile out of you, a soft chuckle leaving him as you easily snuggled into him. Your face reverting to its home in his chest, his chin once again resting against the top of your head.

The light atmosphere was short-lived as you relaxed into Carmy, all of your words finally beginning to sink into him. He was happy for the intermission the time would help him to understand what you had told him thus far, to figure out how he could ever make up for the way he constantly held the door open and let you walk out of his life. The way he essentially cut you out of his life because he was afraid to admit to himself that what he felt for you for all these years wasn’t just lust and longing, but love.

Carmy’s fingers had been gently rubbing your scalp for the past forty-five minutes, the position the two of you were in reminiscent of a scene from New York when you visited. Now it was being translated in your own home, Carmy was laying on the couch one arm settled behind his head to prop it up, looking down on you to make sure you were okay. You were settled between his legs, your upper body pressed into his stomach as your head rested on his sternum.

“Baby?” Carmy did his best to whisper, not wanting to disturb you in case you had fallen asleep.

“Hmm?” Your response was so quiet it was easy to miss, Carmy was unsure if you had let out a quiet hum or if you were making noises in your sleep.

He stopped his ministrations on your scalp, his lips ticking up at the soft whine you let out “You asleep?” The question was followed by his fingertips resuming their massage.

“No, your heartbeat is just soothing.” You snuggled your face deeper into Carmen’s stomach, the movement raising goosebumps on his exposed arms. “Carm?” Your quiet voice drew his attention the apprehension clear on his features as he prepared himself for the words soon to leave your mouth. “There’s something that I need to tell you…something that you deserve to know. B-but I don’t think I can do it tonight. And I know that’s not fair to you but I think for my own sake I need to be in a better space mentally.” You shuffled around again turning to lie facedown, one of your cheeks rested against Carmy’s stomach so you could comfortably look up at him.

The confusion in his eyes was evident, whatever it was you couldn’t tell him was making him beyond nervous. It was hard because you had never kept a secret from him unless you absolutely needed to, and when you did it was never for anything more serious than a gift you were getting for him. But he knew he couldn’t force whatever truth you had to tell out of you, a part of him felt a bit relaxed, not knowing how much bad news he could take in the span of one night.

Carmy’s hand reached out palming the side of your face, thumb grazing back and forth in the space just beneath your eye, “You can share it with me when you’re ready m’kay? I’ll wait as long as you need me to.” He pushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear, watching as your eyes closed, a slight grimace on your face as you leaned into his palm more.

“You’re going to hate me, Carmen.” The words left your mouth with so much conviction all Carmy could do was frown, the idea of ever hating you would have never crossed his mind. He wanted to reassure you but lost his chance as you abruptly sat up, the movement caused him to sit up as well, the two of you only inches apart now facing each other. You forced a smile as your side relaxed on the couch, head propped against it as your eyes wandered around Carmy’s features. “Let’s just get through tonight and then we’ll worry about everything else.” You were exhausted. Carmy could tell by the way your blinking slowed, he wanted you to stop, to get some sleep, to put your needs before whatever made you feel like you owed him any explanation.

“Bab-,”

“I was in the hospital for a bit because I…I was sick. But after they discharged me I had been gone from my own life for so long I was so close to not having anything to return to. So I came home and forced the past month into a literal box in my closet, pretended none of it happened.” You were running on fumes at this point, with no regard for whether Carmy was even still listening to you, just this force within you driving you to finish the story.

“There was uh one thing that I couldn’t force myself to get rid of-,”

“The voicemail.” Your eyes shot to Carmy's, his silence easily making you forget he was even still here, that you were recounting these memories for a reason. You nodded eyes unfocused as you looked past him, would there ever be a time you could remember that part of your life without flinching every time you thought about it?

“It started slow, I was just getting back into the swing of things remembering what it was like to be alone after being in Chicago surrounded by people who actually cared about me. I would go out with my co-workers after a shift, drink just enough that I could get myself home, but not enough for anyone to worry about me.” A sardonic laugh left your lips, you were sure nobody would care about you, and you hardly had any strong ties to the West Coast.

“It helped…until it didn’t until I was drinking so much it was almost like my body was immune to the effects. But who needs their liver am I right?” The pinch to your thigh jolted you. Carmy wasn’t welcoming your self-deprecating jokes.

You raised your hands in defense, a humorless chuckle leaving you. “If I’m being honest, I don’t even remember getting that first prescription…not even the ones after it.”

“Wait,” Carmy moved so his feet were firmly planted on the floor, legs spread as he rested his elbows on his thighs. “What the fuck does a prescription have to do with this? Baby?” Carmy wasn’t stupid, he didn’t need you to spell it out for him but the sliver of hope in him was dwindling as the minutes of silence continued to tick by.

You shrugged, moving to sit crisscross applesauce staring blankly at Carmy’s side profile, one of his legs bouncing up and down. “You know they really should make those warnings bigger. About not mixing drugs and alcohol, the font is so tiny how cou-,”

“Stop!” You didn’t even flinch at the loud volume of Carmy’s voice, eyes following his figure as he flew up from the couch. The man was now pacing in front of you, one hand settled on his hip as the other furiously swiped across his forehead. “Why do you…do you…fuck!” The vein on his neck protruded with his frustration. “How do you just sit there and make fucking jokes about this shit Baby! Why the fuck is any of this funny to you?”

The urge to defend yourself was surging through you, in a way you knew Carmy’s reaction was valid. But it wasn’t like there was a handbook on the proper way to deal with your trauma, and you wouldn’t allow him to tell you right from wrong.

“What the fuck do you want from me, Carmen! I did it okay! I drank and I took the fucking drugs and when that shit stopped working on its own I thought hmm why the fuck not mix them because what the fuck could possibly be worse than living. In some fucked up way did I think it would help me understand Mikey? Maybe. It’s not like I fucking planned this shit! I didn’t plan to become addicted okay, that wasn’t supposed to happen I had a system…I had a fucking system.” It was like everything was becoming clearer the moment those last words left your mouth, you may not have planned the beginning, but as you thought back to what could’ve been your last moments you were almost certain some still sane part of you knew what you were doing.

Soft laughter left your lips as the pieces were starting to fit together in your head, the sound only growing in volume as you realized just how fucked up you were. Your eyes were unfocused as your gaze flew to Carmy, the whisper of ‘Baby’ lost in your internal revelation.

“I threw myself through that glass door, not on purpose I can’t even remember why the fuck I wanted to get outside so bad. But I-I remember swallowing those two extra pills and thinking what the fucks gonna happen to me huh, I’ve lasted this long.” Carmen couldn’t recognize you, the tears had started again but he was certain you couldn’t even tell, you looked possessed, your eyes flashing all around the room a wicked smile painted your lips as you spoke to no one in particular.

“Barely made it past the threshold before my body gave out, I wish I could remember, even if only for a second. What it felt like to have your body want something more than your brain did. But you know what the fuck happened Carmen?” Your eyes finally shot to his, you looked like a skittish animal ready to fight Carmy to the death if he encroached on your territory.

A sardonic laugh left your lips, your tongue swiping across them, the saltiness of your tears a shock to you. “I woke up and there Natalie was, right beside me. And you know my first thought wasn’t what happened to me or-or what the hell is Nat even doing here? I didn’t even pay her any attention the whole first two hours, and you wanna know what I was thinking Carmen?”

“Don’t.” The plea escaped his lips in a whisper your heart clenched at how desolate he looked.

“I laid in that hospital bed, and I looked at those stupid fucking fluorescent lights and I thought; Mikey got it right the first time, why couldn’t I.”

Carmen felt numb, like his whole body had been submerged in an ice bath and no matter how hard he fought to get out, it was like his body and mind were on two different wavelengths. He’d seen that stare before, in the eyes of his brother, the same way Mikey looked at Lee at Christmas dinner all those years ago was the same way you were looking at him now in your living room.

He wasn’t sure if there was a proper reaction to the truth you had just dropped. Mikey was dead, that made things easier, but here you were alive and well from what he could tell and he would have his time to mend things with you if that’s what he wanted. But he wasn’t sure he could stand in such proximity as you at that moment, wasn’t sure if he could even look at you. You had been the second closest person to Mikey, presumably knew he was doing drugs, knew he was spiraling out of control, and followed right after him.

Was there anything Carmy could have done to alter your path? Maybe if he had stayed by your side that night after Christmas you wouldn’t be standing here now talking to him about how badly you wanted to end it all.

Carmy drew in a sharp breath a small sob following it as he tried to control his emotions, he began taking small steps in your direction not sure of what he was going to do, but needing you to know his silence wasn’t because he was disgusted or disappointed in you; but in himself. How easy it would’ve been to keep in contact with you after high school graduation, how easy it would’ve been to just let himself love you and take care of you, be there for you. And as much as he wanted to believe you knowing how he felt would’ve changed much, he knew it was naïve, addiction was an illness and even if Carmen had fought harder to keep you in his life there’s no promise that he wouldn’t have been the one to find you floating in the space between life and death.

He slowly reached out to you, hands carefully grasping your cheeks in his eyes, committing your face to memory, mind racing with all the times he took being able to see it daily for granted. “Ba-baby, tell me you don’t mean that,” he waited, eyes rapidly flicking back and forth from yours. His grip on your face was just loose enough for you to send him the saddest smile he’d ever had the chance to see, “Please?” The broken whisper floated between the two of you before your head softly nodded up and down to confirm that indeed he was almost forced to live without you.

And this time it wasn’t his choice.

Carmy sat on the floor in front of your couch, back resting against it, head tipped back to rest on the cushion face pointed toward the ceiling. All he could hear were the soft breaths escaping you and his thudding heart in his ears. It took a while before you had finally calmed down, Carmy held you in his arms on the floor as the two of you cried. Your sounds lashing against his heart over and over again. He was exhausted, more than he usually was, the night far from what he hoped it would be. He was so overwhelmed by all that you had been willing to reveal to him, that the instinct to do something with his hands as you slept took over, the man dutifully cleaned your kitchen and stored the uneaten food away for you to eat at a later date.

And now here he was, back at your side finally coming to terms with everything he learned. Carmy felt like a fool he had prided himself on his friendship with you, always made it a big deal that you were his friend first, his friend by choice. But it had been almost 10 years since he decided to shut you out of his life with no reason, no explanation why and it was selfish of him. Selfish that he had so blindly pushed you away without a thought to how it would make you feel. Selfish of him to always expect your acceptance and open arms when it was convenient for him to re-enter your life.

He let out a small sigh raising his head from its position on the couch, eyes latching onto the dated picture atop your mantle, your cheesy smile staring back at him as Richie and Mikey surrounded you. His eyes poured over the picture, taking in how happy the three of you looked, and how simple everything was when the two of you were teenagers. A quiet humorless laugh escaped his lips as he reminisced, he was lying to himself if he thought your time as teens was simple, but compared to the lives the two of you were leading it sure as hell did feel that way.

Carmy allowed himself a moment longer to enjoy the happiness the picture exuded. He gave it one last glance before he adjusted his position on the floor, turning slightly so his side was leaned into the couch, eyes landing on your face as you slept. It felt like his heart was constantly breaking whenever he looked at your face, it was evident you’d been crying, the puffiness of your eyes easily giving it away. He reached his hand out, hesitating for just a second before he pushed the hair out of your face palm resting on your cheek as he began to softly stroke in back and forth. Since the first time he saw you this year, this was the most peaceful you had looked, he was glad that sleep had been able to bring you that sense of tranquility, but he wanted that for you always, to feel at peace on any given day and as he watched you back moving up and down to signify the breaths your were taking, he promised himself he’d provide that for you; even if it was only as friends.

“What am I gonna do with you, Baby?” The hoarse words left him in a sigh, a small smile making its way to his lips as he watched your nose scrunch up at the sound of his voice, eyelids slightly twitching.

He watched as you turned to lay on your side, lips brushing across his pulse point a small kiss now decorated his veins. “Still be my best friend?” Carmy laughed at your small voice taking up the space between the two of you. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, thankful that Carmy had figured out how to dim the lights in your living room. “Do you remember that promise we made the summer before seventh grade?” Your voice was scratchy from all the sobbing and borderline screaming from earlier.

Carmen nodded his head, a small smile raised on his lips, hand moving from your cheek to cup the back of your neck. “Of course, I do,” the smile only lasted for so long as he was forced to remember a promise he broke with no regard. “That we’d be best friends no matter what, even though we didn’t want each other’s cooties.” Carmy was happy to hear the sound of your melodious laughter, he spent so much time listening to your broken cries he was afraid he’d never know anything else.

“I’m sorry Carmen, I…I didn’t mean to blow up on you. I think telling you about my overdose…it helped me come to terms with it myself.” Your eyes were lidded, all the crying made them feel heavy, if Carmy wasn’t here in front of you right now you were sure you would’ve been dead asleep.

A small content sigh escaped you as Carmy’s thumb ran back and forth across the side of your neck, “You have nothing to apologize for we-I know I haven’t been a great friend to you these past years. And for that I’m sorry. I wish…I wish I could explain to you why I pushed you away but Baby,” Carmy paused heart thudding in his chest, the words were there, maybe not in the way one would expect but it was you; you would know what he meant even if he was speaking in another language.

“I uh I can’t even explain it to myself. But..I would like for us to be friends again if you’ll have me?” Carmy sent a tight-lipped smile your way, he couldn’t do it. He felt selfish for even thinking now was the time to propose the initial idea in his mind. Maybe it was an excuse, maybe not, but he didn’t think it would be fair to put you in that position. You had just told him such a harrowing truth about yourself and if his first instinct after hearing such was to ask to be more than friends it would feel insincere. Carmy wasn’t even sure you would want a relationship with him, you were sober, and recovering and Carmy wouldn’t allow himself to mess that up for you with his presence having been such a soul-sucking and negative thing in your life these past few years.

“I think that’s just what I need right now…a friend.” It was silent for a moment between the two of you, Carmy had prepared himself for the worst on the drive over, and although he could feel a lump forming in his throat and the ache in his chest, he forced a small smile on his lips upon hearing your words. “You kept it on there?” His eyes found yours confusion marring both of your features, at his silence your hand reached out delicately tracing the pendant settled against his signature white shirt.

Of all the times you’d seen Carmy you knew he still wore his chain, it was a part of him. You had caught glimpses of the gold peeking out from his shirt, but you would have never thought he wore the pendant you’d impulsively bought before leaving New York. You remember regretting having left the newly added accessory on his chain when you left his apartment, sure it made you seem like some desperate lover who had never even actually been a lover, just some girl too naive to see all the signs she was being given.

Your eyes flicked between Carmy’s waiting for his response, his cheeks tinting pink the longer you looked at him for an answer. The hand that wasn’t settled against your skin reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “I nev-I… uh never leave home without it.” The admission made your skin tingle, Carmy’s finger subconsciously tracing the lone letter you carried everywhere with you. “It uh, reminds me of you…of us.”

“There were forget-me-nots in the bouquet Willie made me,” you sent Carmy a small smile, although temporary, the sight of that bouquet filled you with happiness the short time you did spend with it. “Also I know you didn’t have shit to do with the flowers Willie put in that bouquet.” Carmy let out a small laugh face warming at the memory of old man Willie’s meddling.

Your thumb on the pendant began tracing the engraved letter, “This was like my form of a forget me not, something that was permanent, would never wilt with time…I just wanted you to have something to remember me by.” Carmen watched your lips stretch into a small smile, he knew what your words meant, but after learning about all you’d gone through it felt like your final words had a double meaning like if things had gone as you wished them to, this would be the only piece he had left of you.

A part of you felt shy sharing the reasoning behind gifting Carmy the pendant, the two of you were barely friends as it was and the flowers had been so personal to you, that you weren’t sure you wanted to let Carmy into that piece of your world even though he played a huge part in it without even knowing.

“Is that what they signify? Remembrance?” Carmen’s thumb ran back and forth across the scar on your jaw, tapping it twice to pull your attention to his.

You gave the pendant one last longing look, dropping it before your eyes finally locked on his, “Something like that.” You shrugged having to swallow the urge to confide in Carmen one last time tonight.

The two of you stayed like that with Carmy’s hand holding onto the side of your face, thumb trying to imprint the jaggedness of your scar to its memory. Your eyes became heavier the longer Carmy delicately stroked your face. The man made no move to wake you as you slowly began drifting back into the world of dreams, the same look of peacefulness he saw earlier had easily returned, the ghost of your past so evidently marked into your skin in the shape of your scars. He felt like he was able to finally release the breath he’d been holding in, his eyes skated across your face; a face he always considered to be a work of art, one he could never perfectly capture on paper.

As he watched you sleep Carmen came to terms with exactly what was left between the two of you now. For all intents and purposes the two of you were friends again, or at least on friendly terms, and as much as he tried to convince himself he would be happy to keep you in his life in whatever capacity you allowed; he knew that was a lie. But the only person he could really lay blame on was himself, you had been ready and waiting for him before he even realized he loved you and now that he was finally ready to take that next step with you there was no longer space in your heart for him.

Carmen watched you for a moment longer, thumb lingering against your scar before he finally had enough restraint to pull himself away. There was a part of him that would’ve stayed planted in that spot all night just to watch over you, make sure the moment he turned his back you wouldn’t suddenly disappear never to be gazed upon by him again. He quietly stood up, careful not to make too much noise and wake you, hand grabbing the blanket lying atop the head of your couch before he gently draped it across you.

He lingered in front of you every fiber in his body, willing him to stay there by your side, to be there when you woke up. But moments like that were no longer his to take; they never had been. Carmy let out a sorrowful sigh before he bent down to your level placing a soft kiss full of love and longing to the indentation between your eyebrows. What could have been, what never was would always stick with him but he would set his wants and needs to the side, and he would appreciate having another moment with you still in his life.

The two of you had seemed to come to an understanding now, and that’s all he could ask for. You said you needed a friend and that’s what he’d be; your needs were his needs.

a/n: in honor of turning twenty-three i present thee with the gift of suffering 🤪, anyway not sure how i feel about this chapter but we shall see. also i know it seems like everything between baby and carmy may have been resolved rather quick, but i feel like everything is very not obviously resolved. happy readings! 🤍

also: huge shoutout to @mr-robot-x for her impeccable song recs when it comes to this fic and the losers i write about. asleep by the smith’s heavily inspired this chapter. (which you would all know if you took my song inspo seriously 😐) just kidding but seriously it genuinely helped me get through this chapter! 🤍

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear x reader #the bear fic #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto angst #carmy x you #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part II

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 5.2k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: little angst, melancholy but fluffy stuff, we have bucky's pov in this one, lovers who missed each other very much, emotional reunion, probably bad writing of fighting scenes (sorry guys), mentions of suicide, mentions of sexy times, death of main character (y/n' s past life), another attempt to follow mcu timeline, otherwise, nothing that's too heavy/sensitive for anyone to read.

P/S: Thanks so much for the feedbacks in previous chapters! Here's the new update, guys! I hope you enjoy your reading!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Brooklyn, 2024 – Glimpses of the past

"So, Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?" Dr. Raynor asked as she leaned leisurely on her chair. However long it had been since the first time she met Bucky on their first therapy session, she still couldn't crack the man to talk more than he deem necessary.

Bucky sat silently on the sofa that was certainly big enough to fit three people with its size, as he stared blankly at the door behind Dr. Raynor, wanting to avoid eye contact with the woman.

"James, I asked you a question." She prompted as she crosses her legs together. "Are you still having nightmares?"

If he was being truthful, then his answer would've been yes, however he decided to test if she managed to see through him, "No." He replied with a convincing tone.

Dr. Raynor paused for a moment as she eyed his behaviour,  "We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when you’re lying." She quirked her eyebrow as if she was non-verbally asked him to cut the crap.

"Well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?"

Yes. Something did happened recently.

Sure, there was the horrid nightmare that had been haunting him in his sleep most of the nights, but lately there was something else that's been making unannounced appearance in his dreams. Something much older than his memories of the Winter Soldier.

They were glimpses of the past where he was but a man in his mid 20's living his best life with a woman he thought he was going to end up growing old with.

Bucky saw images of his younger, undamaged self tangled up in bed with that woman. His hands raking through her raven hair as he pushed the mess away from her face. And when she whined in her sleep he would let out a soft chuckle as he lovingly stroke his thumb across her cheek.

He remembered feeling the tug in his chest when the morning light touches her brown eyes as she peeled them open. He remembered the sweet smile she graced upon him as she pulled him in for an innocent kiss. He remembered the warmth of her naked skin rubbing against his own when she snuggled back into his body.

Those were always a pleasant dream to have during his sleepless nights. However rare it was to have them; he found himself spared in the gentle grace that she left behind from those loose pieces of memories. He realized that his broken soul yearns for her peace more than his will longs for his freedom.

"No." He lied again.

"You’re a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna…" Dr. Raynor gestured her hands as if there was an invisible knife in her grasp as she motioned a stabbing movement.

Bucky let out a silent sigh, nodding his head with a somewhat forced derpy smile as she continued to explain, "It’s a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare."

However, Bucky remained stubborn on keeping the memories of his lover to himself. He simply shook his head as he briefly looked to the side and out the window, before coming back and confessed, "I didn’t have a nightmare."

Dr. Raynor breathed deeply, letting the air out through her nose as she clicked on the mechanical pen. The pointer latched on the surface of the lined papers as she started to write down her observation.

Bucky who was sitting on the opposite side only scoffed in respond to her petty attempt of threat, "Oh, come on. Really?" He taunted, "You’re gonna do the notebook thing?" Rolling his eyes in annoyance as he commented his thoughts outspokenly, "Why? It’s passive aggressive."

"You don’t talk. I write." The therapist replied with a short comeback.

Bucky glared intensely at her before letting out a sigh, "Okay. Okay."

His flesh fingers started to fiddle with his metal ones, a habit which he noticed he recently picked up after getting used to the high-tech vibranium arm.

"It wasn't a nightmare. It's just..."  Bucky didn't know how to put it in words other than, "...a good dream."

It was in the peak of witching hours, when Y/N stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen section of her lover's humble apartment. The quiet of the night sometimes interrupted by the sound of the droplets trickling from the faucet.

There was a luminating light of the full moon that leaks through the open window, granting enough of a vision to see the layout of the kitchen. The stillness of the air made Y/N wonder if this is what she would need to go through soon.

Just an empty atmosphere without the presence of her lover.

And there she goes again, wondering in the seemingly endless darkness, thinking of the worst things that could possibly happen.

She had been staring unblinkingly at the counter top for who knows how long since she was woken up from her slumber.

Y/N couldn't go back sleep even if she needed to. Not when tomorrow is the day that she dreaded the most. The day Bucky was going on his first call, to be sent away to England first thing morning.

"Missed you in bed, yknow?" The huskiness of Bucky's voice broke her from the gloomy thoughts. 

Y/N turned around to first see the bare shape of her lover's body, lean and slightly muscular, then trailed up to his sleepy grin, barely opened eyes and the mess of his bed hair sticking out all over the place.

She had to admit, partially, it was her fault for constantly pulling on them when he went down on her. But it was also important to note that it was entirely his fault for being so damn good at it.

Bucky's humming was hoarse when he walked towards her, "What are you doing up, doll?" While Y/N watched his naked figure moved closer.

Bucky Barnes is a beautiful man.

She knew that even before they started dating but it is a wonder that his beauty still to manage to catch her off guard sometimes.

The moment he engulfed her into his arms, she whispered onto his skin, "Can't sleep." She kept it short and ambiguous but that only became the biggest giveaway to Bucky.

Bucky effortlessly lifted her up on the counter as he settled comfortably in between her legs. His hands trailed along the side of her thighs, casually lifting up the thin material of her night gown before going under it to gently fondle with the flesh of her hips.

He leaned upwards, placing the softest kiss on her lips as he murmured, "Everything's going to be alright, y/n." He kissed her again for a good measure, "I'll be home to you before you know it."

Y/N wrapped arms around his neck, pulling him closer until their forehead touches each other's, "You must write me, always." She spoke quietly; as if it was a secret she wanted to keep from the world.

"You must tell me everything, James. Don't hide anything from me; every blood, sweat and tears. I want to know all of it." Her eyes pleaded desperately, "You must be safe." Their lips hovered over each others; so close, barely even touching, "And come home."

The blue of his eyes were glazed with so much love and adoration as he whispered, "I promise, doll. I'm not going to die before I meet you at the end of the isle."

Somehow, Bucky always knew what to say to make her crack a smile, "I love you, James. Too much for my own good." She pulled him as she kissed his soft lips, "I love you too, y/n. More than anything." He grabbed her by the head, latching his mouth on hers as if it was their last kiss.

Before she knew it, Bucky swiftly pulled her off from the counter and grabbed her onto his shoulder, causing her to yelp in surprise. "Oh my god, Bucky! Put me down right now!" The brunette simply laugh as she shriek his name, "James!"

"James!" Dr. Raynor managed to pull Bucky out of his thoughts. "You're clearly out of it today." She remarked before continuing, "And so, this woman in your dreams... Is she someone you knew back in the 40's?"

Bucky replied, "Most probably." He hesitated as he thought thoroughly, "Or it could just be a made up character that only exists in my dreams."

"Does she perhaps, have a name?" Dr. Raynor asked, in which he simply answered, "She does."

There was brief silence of unbroken eye-contact between them, before Bucky realized that the therapist was silently enquiring her name.

Bucky straightened his position in his seat as blatantly stated, "I'm not telling you her name." That was where he drew the line. Therapist or not; she didn't need to know his lover's identity.

Dr. Raynor hanged her hands up as a sign of defeat, "Okay, okay. That's fair." That was when the timer on her phone went off, "Oh, time's up." She reached for her phone and slide across the screen.

She quickly stood on her feet as soon as Bucky did on his own, "That would be all for this session. Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Barnes."

He had to let out a sarcastic chuckle when he said, "It's not that I want to anyway. It's mandatory." He walked towards the door but before he could turn the knob, Dr. Raynor spoke.

"Outside of this 'mandatory' session, I'd say my advice to you as a friend, is to maybe find her. Or her family." She suggested, "And if you're lucky..." She briefly paused, "...maybe she's still alive somewhere."

Bucky remained static for a moment before he spoke, "Thanks, Doc." He didn't look back to face her at all, before walking out the room feeling much more burdened than he did entering it.

Dr. Raynor's advice soon turned out to be a constant dilemma to him more than he anticipated.

Virginia, 1991 – The man she once loved

Y/N panicked. She didn't think the appearance of that metal-armed man will trigger a deep-rooted memories she was desperately trying to forget; spiralling her back into old chapters of her previous life.

It was the year of 1991 and Y/N was in her 6th life. She was a black widow that went rogue after managed on escaping the Red Room program about a few years prior. She was drunk on hatred and vengeance that she almost recklessly killed half of the people in her facility on the day she escaped.

It's not to say that she came out uncut, it was quite the opposite really. Y/N had left the grounds with multiple holes on her body and a deep wound her face; a cut from the inner edge of her right brow all the way across her left cheek.

And that left her with a very prominent and unforgettable scar. Though she couldn't care less about it, especially when she knew Hydra was out there still thriving under another intellegence organization like some kind of parasite.

After she heard the news that Howard Stark has successfully replicate the super soldier serum, she is now somewhere in Virginia, trying to hijack the products before it falls in the hands of the Pentagon or worst, Hydra.

Unfortunately for her, the worst thing that could happen, happened.

Someone from Hydra managed to get their hands on them before she could, leaving the corpses of Howard Stark and his wife in the broken down car, posing it as a road accident.

The bodies was still warm and she knew the culprit won't be far from the crime scene, so she rode on forward until managed to catch up with him. She never intended to confront him head on. She was planning to follow him to the meeting point where they will transfer the products to another Hydra agent, like they always do.

But he certainly didn't care about her plan when he changed his route to a different location. She didn't even realized that her incognito was useless when he nearly shot her in the head.

Now, with her cover blown, it was just him and her alone at the gate of an abandoned building. "Well, shit." Y/N cursed.

She could feel the heavy tension from the atmosphere. Silence from the wordless man were screaming louder than her pumping heartbeat.

There were only two of those run-down street lamp that helped to brigthen up the battlefield. But even with the dying light, Y/N could see the silver of left arms, a red star on the upper side, black mask covering lower half of his face and a messy black shadow all over his eyes.

She knew who he was; though most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. Hydra's most prized asset from the Winter Soldier program that Y/N had been trying to track for months.

Maybe it was a careless greed, or maybe she was just tired of living. But, Y/N dared herself to fight the against super soldier. It was intense but completely one-sided as the soldier managed to counter most her punches and kicks.

There were times that she felt like he was simply playing around with her and that riled Y/N to the core. If it wasn't enough for God to toy with her life, now this weapon of Hydra is joining the fun.

She was sick of it; and it got her to be impatient. That, however, was a mistake that she shouldn't have done especially during a hand-to-hand combat with the Winter Soldier himself. 

Y/N ducked down from his swinging arm as she surged her own towards him but the man could see her moves from a mile away, so he dropped his knife to his other hand and managed to strike the blade right into where her pulsing heart resides.

All the times she had ripped her own life, it seemed that her soul was used to the pain that it took a few moments of time to register the pain.

"Ah, this is truly exhausting." She thought to herself.

She wanted it to end.

She wanted to rest. For good.

In her hazy vision, she looked up at the soldier and noticed that he had been staring blankly into her eyes; like a curious predator watching his dying prey.

She knew it was wrong, but looking closer at the shade of blue in his dead and frozen eyes, she couldn't help to find the resemblance in the man she once loved.

It was cruel to find the semblance of her lover in the eyes of her killer, but that tends to happen when a person's soul longed for someone so much that everything and anything became the reminder of them.

Streams of tears trickled down into her ears as her blood seeped through her clothes, staining the fabric and the ground under her.

Instead of hearing the sound of the soldier's footstep walking away, all she could hear was the vivid memories of Bucky's laughter, "I miss you, James."

She truly did.

She missed him so much that she wished that she can finally die this time around, praying for a chance to meet him once more.

But alas, that's not gonna happen anytime soon. Not when the God hates her now.

"I miss you so much." her voice shivered as she whispered her last breath.

Madripoor, 2024 – Long-lost lover

Easy to say, Y/N was furious that she let the memories of her past, the appearance of the winter soldier, distract her focus for her mission. She was furious that she didn't manage to get into Wilfred's lab before someone else did.

Don't get her wrong, though.

She was somewhat grateful when she found him dead, because that's means there's one less parasite that could potentially revive Hydra from the recreation of super soldier serum. But, she was pissed that she wasn't able to dig for more information about his research and the people he was affiliated with.

She knew he was recruited by the CIA before the blip but seeing that his lab is now basically a cargo, located in Madripoor, she doubt that he has anything to do with CIA now.

He's probably working with someone else in the underground scene.

Y/N sat leg-crossed on stacks of cargo, as she watched the scene from afar. The bounty hunters were ruthlessly attacking a group of criminals that attacked Shelby last night, while they were completely out-numbered.

She heard from the bar that it was considerably a high pay for the rewards especially when the targets were consists of the runaway prisoner, Zemo, Hydra's weapon, the Winter Soldier and the member of Avenger, the Falcon.

It was indeed an odd group of people but she couldn't care less about how that came to be. What caught her attention was the fact that the Falcon, who is a member of the Avenger, was affiliated with the Winter Soldier, who is an asset of Hydra.

And the fact that they were digging their feet in the underground world for the super soldier serum making the trio combination even more concerning.

She knew it was the best bet to approach the Falcon for information rather than going for the other two, so when the group split up during their fight, she quietly followed the Falcon.

He was a bit clumsy when fighting alone; or maybe it was because the hunters kept streaming in non-stop. Nonetheless, one by one, eventually the Falcon managed to take them down.

Y/N lurked at the corner, quietly observing his fighting style as he struggled with the few that was left.

"He's going to run out of ammo." She thought to herself.

And two shots later, he did.

There were two hunters left and he had no choice but to use his fists. Looking at him now, maybe he suited the hand-to-hand combat style more than gun combat. Y/N noticed his moves are more seamless than when he fight with a gun a few seconds ago.

The Falcon breathed heavily as the last hunter was tackled down. She decided that it had to be now or never, at least before the winter soldier came to the scene to regroup. When she stepped out of her camouflage, the Falcon only noticed her presence that he missed the red dot on his chest.

But, Y/N saw it, "Fuck! He can't die. Not before I get what I want." She couldn't let him go without getting information she needed from him.

In mere seconds, she jumped towards him and managed to pulled him away from the target. However, it was not far enough, that was when the bullet grazed on his side. Y/N quickly grabbed her throwing knife and land it right into the hunter's head.

The Falcon staggered backwards, meeting his back on the side of the cargo as he groaned in pain. His eyes scanned the appearance of his potential saviour; hooded figure, mask-covered face, assassin-like dressed – he realized that she matched the description of what Sharon had warned him before.

"So before we move, this might be unrelated, but I gotta warn you guys about someone." Sharon spoke as she equipped herself.

The three men looked over her as they gave their undivided attention, "While last night was hectic with the return of the Winter Soldier." She briefly looked over at Bucky, "But, there was also another person that made an appearance."

"She's known as the Deathstalker." She paused. "What I can say about her is she's a basically mystery; appeared out of thin air a few months into the blip." Sharon explained, earning a couple of nods from Sam and the signature frown from Bucky.

However, Zemo simply smiled and commented, "Ah, the pretty little Deathstalker." The mannerism of his speech was thick with Sokovian accent.

"You know her?" Sharon quirked.

Zemo smiled again, this time a little bit too smug, "We might have once crossed our path." He kept it ambiguous.

"When? You were in the prison years before the blip." Sam frowned as he questioned.

Sipping on the glass of liquor, Zemo answered, "She may or may not have 'visited' me to get some information about Hydra."

The mention of Hydra caught Bucky's attention but he kept it well hidden under his stoic expression. Noticing Sam's confusion with Zemo's insinuating answer, Bucky simply laid it out for him, "It means, she broke into the prison, Sam." he simply sighed.

Sam jutted his lips as he shrugged, "Guess you're not the only one who's insane here, Buck." He teased as he poked fun of Bucky's decision of 'breaking into the prison' to let Zemo out.

"You said, 'pretty little Deathstalker'. So you've seen her face?" Sharon asked curiously as she crossed her arms to her chest. No one had seen the assassin's face before, so she could help but to ask.

Zemo shook his head, "No. But that signature mask of hers cannot hide the beauty within." He smirked as he recalled the look in the Deathstalker's eyes; she had that obsession for vengeance. As he did when he broke the Avengers apart .

"You see, I've always had the eyes for beautiful things." He explained as if it was a natural thing to say.

Sharon knew shouldn't let herself expect too much from Zemo, especially when he had that attitude. She simply rolled her eyes and walked towards the seat next to Sam.

Bucky leaned his back into the sofa, spreading his legs apart as he asked, "Is she gonna be a problem?" An assissin that's been breaking into prison to ask Zemo about Hydra. That doesn't seem like a casual information to overlook.

Sharon shrugged as she continued, "Well, depends on your move. But, I'd advice you to never get on her bad side. People speculated that she's a rogue assassin turned bounty hunter but the thing is... she has never taken any job."

Bounty hunters get their money from jobs that's advertised all over the city. So, the Deathstalker couldn't be called a Bounty Hunter when she never take jobs before. If it were up to Sharon, the Deathstalker was much suited under the same category as Ronin, the masked vigilante who tracks down and slaughters criminals during the blip.

Sharon explained that, "She just stalks around the underground scene, and leave bodies behind for people to find."

Zemo interjected, "Hence, her name." Gaining a glare from Sharon, that translates to "Do you want to tell the story or what?"

"Right." Sam nodded as he takes in the information.

After earning a silent apology from Zemo, Sharon continued, "No one knows who she works for or what her aim is but there's rumours she's been hunting down Hydra, or anyone and anything affiliated to it."

Again, the Deathstalker's obsession with Hydra had caught Bucky's attention. A rogue assassin seemingly made it her mission to hunt down Hydra?

Bucky doesn't know what to make of that. So, he kept his questions to himself. Eitherway, if she gets in their way, he'd still need to fight against her.

"Why are you telling us this again?" Sam asked as he didn't find the connection between their mission and the Deathstalker.

Sharon replied, "It's just worth to note that she might be hunting for Wilfred Nagel too." She paused as her gaze fell into Bucky's, "...since the super soldier serum had been Hydra's obsession for centuries."

The Dealthstalker technically saved his life.

So, does that mean that she was not an enemy?

Sam was struggling between containing his pain and coming up with a plausible conclusion but Y/N's action quickly give him the answer he needed.

Within seconds, she had Sam pinned against the wall as the edge of her sharp blade dug into the skin of his neck, "What is an Avenger doing with the Asset?" Her voice sounded distorted through the voice-changing mask.

"Lady, I don't know what you're talking about!" He grunted in protest.

Sam was not used to Bucky being labeled as an "asset". Sure, he knew the name of Winter Soldier or Soldat. But, Bucky was never addressed as the Asset, at least not by the people around him.

Y/N grabbed him by the collar and harshly slammed him against the metal of the cargo behind him, causing him to curse as the pain struck on the side of his abdomen.

"Are you planning to revive Hydra?" Her menancing eyes searched into his, demanding for a truthful answer.

What kind of bullshit was she talking about?

Reviving Hydra?

Why the hell would he do that?

However, before Sam could retort to her accusation, Y/N was pulled back by an arm, wrapped around her neck from behind. She knew it was the Winter Soldier from the cold metal burning into her skin. The soldier's other hand grabbed onto her wielded hand, forcefully bending her wrist until the knife fell from her grasp.

He easily lifted her up in the air as he backed away, tightening the lock of his left arm around her neck while twisting her right hand to her back with his flesh hand. The smaller let out a robotic groan through her mask as she struggled in his chokehold.

While the two wrestled in between holding one down and freeing oneself, Sharon quickly ran to Sam's side, "Are you alright?" she prompted as she examined his wounds. The male simply nodded his head, "Yeah, it's just a graze." He explained before asking, "Is that the Deathstalker chick that you've been talking about?"

Sharon followed his gaze, and eyed the woman who was still struggling in Bucky's hold before she managed to land a paticularly sharp strike right into Bucky's stomach, "Yeap, that would be her." Sharon answered.

Usually a few strikes by an elbow of a woman doesn't really hurt the super soldier but unfortunately for him, the elbows of the suit Y/N was wearing were armored with thin yet effective pad made of vibranium. Due to its ability is to absorb and dissipate shocks, it managed to push him back and simultaneously loosen his hold on her.

When his guard was down, Y/N took the opportunity to  slightly twist her foot back around his and grab onto his left arm. She pushed her bottom into his hips as she bend over, pulling onto his arm as she flipped him forward.

Y/N stepped backwards, standing on guard as the soldier rolled over on the ground before finding a position to stop the inertia; one knee of the ground while the other leg paused at his foot with his back facing her.

Her hands reached to her back and pulled two knives from the holster on the belt, gripping them by the handle while the blades facing downwards. She bended her knees into stance, much like a panther ready to pounce.

But when the soldier stood on his feet and turned around, suddenly her defensive stance flatter and her breath were cut short. The battled-tensed surroundings did not matter when all she could see was the soldier's face.

He looked a bit aged from the last time she saw him but a lot younger considering it was decades ago.

How could she forget those livid-blue eyes sharpen beneath the deep frown he was wearing?

Or the softness of his pursed lips ghosting over her own?

Even if the smooth skin of his forehead were now decorated with thin lines of wrinkles, and the exhaustion in the discoloration under his eyes had overshadowed the playful glint he used to have; they could never fool her to believe that the man standing in front of her right now was not her long-lost lover.

"James?" Her voice was gentle but the voice changer behind her mask didn't quite conveyed her tone.

Suddenly, the high walls of her defences begin to crumble into mere pieces of fragments like crushed dried leaves on autumn grounds. Time suspended, almost too still, as if it was trying to give her the luxury to cherish the revelation; to revel in the moment of joy and relief.

And there wasn't any thoughts formulated in the fog of her mind besides the need to melt in his arm. Somehow the dark side of her mind managed to trick her into believing that if she didn't touch him now, then she would perish in despair.

Her feet inches forward closer and closer, and her knives were long forgone, leaving clancking sounds on the surface of the ground.

When Bucky heard his name uttered by the woman, somehow it didn't sound foreign to him. It was as if he'd heard it before.

And when he saw the wet glaze in her brown eyes as she hesitantly walk towards him, he knew then that she was not approaching with an intent to kill him; he'd dare to say it was quite the opposite.

There were so much emotions in her gaze; grief, yearning, sorrow, need, joy – that he even his ex-assassin's skill couldn't possibly decipher them all. And that had impeccably managed froze every nerves in his body until he can only stood there, paralyzed on his spot.

With each hesitant step, more tears started to swell in her eyes. Step by step she took, hoping he wasn't another fragments of hallucination that she made up to ease her needs, until she finally stood close enough to him to realize he was real.

Bucky knew he should move. Reprimand her before she could land any sneak attack that he might not expect; but he couldn't. Not when she gaze up at him with that look in her eyes.

He unexpectedly drowned himself in those waves of emotions in her eyes, not realizing her actions until her shivering hands cupped his face.

Her fingers were cold as if they were soaked in ice.

Her voice slightly cracked when she spoke, "Is that really you, James?" Even if she was looking directly into his eyes, somehow the question sounded like it directed towards herself rather than to Bucky.

It's real.

He's real.

Her eyes casted down to where her skin met his warmth. There was a slight tingle when her thumbs rubbed against the stubble of his jaw, prickling her skin perfectly just as she remembered.

"It's you. James. It's really you." She mumbled under her breath, convincing herself over and over as if her brain refused to acknowledge it while her heart does otherwise.

Bucky, on the other hand, didn't know what to do or what to say. But, he hadn't heard anyone called him by that name so affectionately since Y/N. The lover he left behind during WWII, who's grave he had been visiting every Tuesday morning ever since that particular session with Dr. Raynor.

However, something in his guts were screaming at him to reach out to this woman's plea as she cried in his presence, lost in her own world as she muttered his name again and again.

But, why?

Why does he feel the need to cradle her body in his arms, and whisper the sweetest things to calm her down?

Why?

Bucky gulped as his eyes loomed over hers, "Who are you?"

<< Part I || Part III >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Feel free to leave feedbacks! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until then, see you in the next part 🤍

#winterarmyyfics #promise me au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky #tfatws!bucky #winter soldier!bucky #1940s!bucky

[noxturnalpascal]

Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 7)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

⚠️PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE SERIES WARNINGS, ESPECIALLY: references to previous SAs (not described in detail), manipulation, thoughts of self-harm and suicide.⚠️

PREVIOUS

II. Predator or Prey?

CH 7 (7.8k) | 10 Weeks Later | It’s the last Thursday in March and you’re helping pack up the wagon for Hank and his daughter, Amber, to make one of their weekly trips into town. The milk churns are loaded in the back, filled and ready for delivery to the Valley residents in town. You double check the breast collars on the horses and the traces going to the wagon while Hank asks if you’re sure you don’t wanna come with? He asks every week and every week your answer is the same.

“No thank you, Hank, there’s plenty to do here.”

While that’s certainly true, it’s not the real reason you never join them. There’s plenty to keep you busy and never a shortage of chores on a dairy farm, especially one that has almost no electrical power to help run it. But the more honest reason you don’t join them in town is that it would complicate your ability to avoid Joel. Part of you felt a finality when you got here, that whatever it was between you was over and you’d start fresh and finally be rid of him. But you should have known better. You should have known he’d still haunt you.

Your mind has still been full of him, filled with memories of the good times and the bad. You think you see him out of the corner of your eye, in places he shouldn’t be, but when you turn to look, of course he isn't there. Sometimes you think you can smell him when you walk into your room at night, but he’s definitely never been in there. You can usually avoid actively seeing him, since Hank doesn’t like to attend the Friday night events and Joel would never come this far out of town with as busy as he’s kept by Tess. But you can’t avoid him on Sundays.

Hank never presses the issue when he asks you to join him on Thursday nights, but joining them on Sundays isn’t optional. As a devout man, Hank requires everyone to dress in their best clothes and make the hour-long ride into town so you can all sit in the big, old church and hear about God’s plan for you. Every Sunday you see Joel in the front row, sitting through the service before he gets up and makes his usual speech. You scoot down in the pew, making yourself as small as possible, trying not to draw attention. He gives you none.

Once the service is over, everyone funnels out of the church to the rec hall next door. You walk past the closet where you were on your knees for your false god and try not to burn at the shameful feeling that washes over you, twisting your stomach into knots. You hate him. You miss him. You hate yourself. Sometimes Tess comes over to your table at dinner and talks to the Mansfields, making sure to ask how you’re doing and gives you kind smiles. But Joel never comes over. He sits at his table with the other women – and Beth – and keeps his back turned to you. 

You once thought that it seemed like he was putting extra effort into purposely not looking your way. You pushed the preposterous thought from your mind until you realized too late one Sunday that you were in a line to shake his hand before dinner. You were busy re-plaiting Amber’s braid at her insistence and didn’t notice how close you were to him until you heard his gruff voice speaking to Hank. It was too late for you to run the other way, which is what you usually did, so instead you ducked down, trying to hide behind Amber, knowing it was futile. 

Amber beamed at him, shaking his hand with both of hers, bubbling with praise over how great his speech was and what a great job he did. Her little crush on him had never been more annoying than it was at that moment. You knew that he knew you were there, there was no way to hide your entire body behind Amber’s diminutive frame. And yet, you watched his eyes jump over you and land on the next person in line, completely – and purposely – ignoring your presence. He was definitely making an effort.

– 

All of that happened nearly two months ago and now you just make absolutely sure to pay attention and stay away from him on Sundays, so you don’t have to notice him not noticing you. In fact, these days you hardly think of him at all. Okay, maybe that’s not quite true, but you’d like to think that in comparison to when you first got to the Mansfield’s, you’re doing much better.

The first night you’d arrived, Amber had led you up the stairs to her room, which she said you’d be sharing. The room was huge, probably three times bigger than the room you had been calling yours. You had a comfortable bed all to yourself on one side of the room as well as three dresser drawers and half the closet to fill with your things. You hadn’t brought anywhere near enough clothes to go in the spaces, but you found that Beth had unexpectedly left several items of clothing behind in a size that fit you.

When the lanterns were snuffed out for the night you’d laid your head on the pillow and cried heaving, muffled sobs, hoping Amber wouldn’t hear you. Why were you crying? You had more space and more autonomy at that moment than you’d had in months. You had a bedroom door that closed and a family that was eager to have you. No one was going to hit you, touch you, or scream at you. You were safe. And yet you felt so alone. More alone than you had in a very long time.

You’d let yourself cry until your head ached, and then you got up and walked to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on your warm, puffy face. You looked in the mirror and began to chide your pitiful reflection. 

Why are you crying over him? Why would you miss him? What is wrong with you?

These same thoughts repeated for the first week, playing over and over in your mind every time you started to feel sad. So stupid of you to cry as if you were the only one in the world with problems. The whole world had gone to hell and you were crying because some man lied to you. You shouldn’t have even fucking trusted him in the first place. You’d let yourself fall right into his trap even though everything inside you was telling you not to.

–

You wonder if he misses you or if he’s already moved on to the next one. Maybe Beth has fully replaced you and his focus is on her now, already suffocating her with affection and fucking her in your old bed. Had he asked Tess about you, or Hank, or anyone? You have thoughts about getting sick or even dying, and wonder what he would say when he heard, if he would feel bad, if he would shed a tear. He most likely wouldn’t care at all, his fixation with you having run its course. You were yesterday’s news.

You think about hurting yourself and if he’d do anything about that. Maybe he’d come out to the farm and visit you; sit by your bedside and read to you. Maybe he’d throw you over his knee and spank you for it. You wonder if you should leave The Valley, and you’re not sure which would hurt more; him coming after you or him letting you go. Maybe you should kill yourself. He’s not around to stop you. No one is.

Goddamnit, you are so fucking dramatic. None of this shit matters, anyway – your life was always a burning pile of trash and it was always going to be a burning pile of trash. A couple-months-blip of whatever pseudo-relationship you had with this man was not the pinnacle of your life. He wasn’t sent by some higher power to save you. You weren’t two halves of a whole, ripped apart at the beginning of creation, roaming the ends of the earth to find each other again. Get a fucking grip.

Oh, you were used by a man for your body? What else is new? That’s not breaking fucking news, that’s just what men do. That’s what men do to you. That is what your life has always been and clearly you’re some kind of magnet for this behavior. There is obviously something about you that all these men see and it calls out to them that you’ll fall for their bullshit every time and they can take whatever they want from you. You’re doing something wrong, leading them on somehow. You deserve this. You were asking for it.

At the end of the first week you’d told yourself you weren’t gonna go on with these spiraling, obsessive, pathetic thoughts about him anymore. You were exhausted at feeling this way and were sure everyone around you was getting tired of it too, of you moping around the farm like Eeyore, sniveling and crying. You were distracted all the time, head in the clouds. Months worth of hopes and dreams played over and over in your mind, each recalled moment had hit you like a fucking shotgun blast to the stomach.

Giggling in the hallway while he kissed your neck and tickled your skin with his stubble. Pow.

The phantom feeling of his fingertips tracing circles on your skin while he reads to you. Pow.

The heat of his body behind you, sniffing your hair, whispering, “Good morning, baby.” Pow.

His tongue sliding along your bottom lip, licking into your mouth, tasting you. Pow.

How stupid were you to think that’s what your life was going to be like? As if it could ever be like that. Your life isn’t a fucking movie, it’s not a love song, it’s not some sappy romance novel. You’re not the main character, you’re not the heroine. You don't get a happy ending. You get to be used. You get to be left. You get to be alone. You get to be hungry. You get to feel empty.

That’s what you had before, why would it be any different now, here – at the end of the world? Why would you deserve anything different?

–

You need to stop your hyper-fixating thoughts, you feel like you’re going crazy out here, haunted by him. There’s no one you can talk to or confide in, no one you trust. You have to find a way to get this out of your system. You need to figure out how to move on. You decide you’re going to let yourself have each memory one time, and then you’re gonna pack it up and send it away, so it can’t hurt you anymore. 

You find an old stack of newspapers in the loft of the barn and begin ripping off small sections. Each time you have one of these spiraling thoughts of him – losing yourself in a memory – you walk to the edge of the property and stand next to the creek that runs through there. You let yourself have the thought, from start to finish, and before you can repeat it or turn it over in your head to overthink it, you crumple the scrap of paper in your hand – crunching it down into a tiny little ball – and throw it into the creek. Once it’s out of sight you don’t let yourself dwell on it anymore. 

The conversation you had one evening, limbs entwined, between making out like teenagers on the chilly front porch, saying that if he’d met you before the world ended he’d have taken you out on a date. 

“Where would you take me?”

“Out for ice cream, to a baseball game, maybe a drive-in movie.”

“What movie?”

“Any movie you wanted to see, baby.”

“What else?”

“I’d bring you flowers, hold your hand, kiss you goodnight.”

“Would you call me after?”

“Of course I would, you’d be my girl.” 

His girl. His. His possession. Maybe that’s all he ever wanted; to own you like you were just another one of his little things on a shelf.

Into the river.

Right around Thanksgiving, he’d told you more about Sarah, his daughter. He’d told you she loved the color purple, drawing butterflies, playing soccer with her friends, and giving her old man shit. You’d thought the shine in his eyes when he talked about her was one of the best things about him. 

“Single dad?” 

“Yup.”

“Ever married?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Just never appealed to me.”

You didn’t read into it at the time but you wonder now if you shouldn’t have seen the signs, if it wasn’t obvious and you were just being willfully ignorant. Oh well.

Into the river.

You told him about going with a friend and her stepdad to their lake house for an overnight when you were little. You and your friend had spent all day playing in the water and when it was time for bed she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow. The loud, squealing of the air conditioning kicking on and off kept you awake and you reluctantly got up to ask the only adult to make it stop. He suggested you sleep in his bed instead, lifting the covers for you to join him. Against your better instincts, you crawled in. 

“How old were you?” he asked with gritted teeth. 

“Maybe eight.”

He cursed under his breath. “Wasn’t right.”

“I know.” 

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that too.”

“He shouldn’t ha–” 

“I know, Joel.”

“You tell anyone? Your mom, your dad?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t know… I guess it felt like something you’re supposed to keep secret.” 

“Did he ever–?” 

“No. I never saw him again. And I never hung out with that girl again.” 

What’s worse? The memory of it, the shame of recalling it in front of him, or the way he pitied you, holding you tighter in his arms that night than he ever had before?

Into the river.

This was your routine, sometimes once or twice a day, sometimes more. One particularly hard day early on you made nearly a dozen trips to the river. Amber asked if you were okay. You lied and told her you were fine. You had to let him go, each thought you released cleansing you of him, letting the water wash away your pain. This went on for weeks and weeks and you’re not sure if you’re actually getting better but you are feeling a little better and maybe that’s all you can hope for. 

–

Amber used to ask you a million questions a day about him. What was Joel like? Was he nice? What was his house like? What did you do there? Was it fun? You didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was both your ultimate dream and your worst nightmare, that his house was a trap that he held you in while he manipulated and hurt you, and that he was a monster hiding in plain sight in this community he created just for that purpose. Instead of divulging that heinous truth, you suffice to tell her that Joel is kind, the house is nice, and living there was fine.

It was obvious that she had a little thing for him, but if you’re being honest she probably got it from her mother, who talked about Joel with the same dreamy lilt to her voice as Amber. Hank also seemed to get misty-eyed when he talked about what great things Joel has done for the people in this valley. A wolf emerges in the apocalypse, disguising himself as a shepherd, and the sheep all flock to him. You remind yourself not to judge them too harshly since you too were once one of the sheep.

You’d been living with the Mansfields for about a month when Amber started to make comments about Beth coming back to the house. Your stomach lept into your throat, thinking that it meant you’d have to go back to your tiny, doorless room at Joel’s house. But the more she spoke the more you realized she was acting like she would be the one going to live at Joel’s. You realized that you saw them last Sunday, hunched in a corner, talking to each other. You’d just assumed she had trapped him into talking to her, knowing how captivated she was with everything that came out of his mouth.

But now you wonder if they haven’t been growing closer, getting to know each other at the Thursday meetings she insisted on going to when you turned down Hank’s offer to accompany him as Beth had. Maybe he likes how infatuated she is with him, it certainly seems like that’s something he’d be into – being worshiped. Maybe he’s already offered her the little room at the top of the stairs. She can mend holes in clothes and cook much better than you ever could, maybe she’d suck his dick better than you too. You hate the way your insides churn even more at that thought.

He’s moved on, forgotten about you. He’s onto the next one. He doesn’t even look at you anymore.

Hank had his wife, Laurel, give you chores early on, doing some of the work that Beth used to do around the house. However, she quickly realized what Tess had already figured out, that you weren’t any good at that kind of stuff. Within a week you had exhausted her patience and she sent you out to the barn for Hank to find work for you. 

You’re pretty sure Hank liked you, you’d always had nice conversations with him on Thursdays, relating to him that your grandparents had a farm and you’d grown up visiting it. You’d left out the part where the farm was no longer operational when you visited it and maybe Hank had been happy to have you and Beth switch rooms when he thought he was getting some kind of experienced farm worker. So Hank gave you plenty of work, as there was always a ton to do, and then left you unsupervised most of the day while he tended to the silo levels, the pasture fences, the sanitizing of the milk churns, and countless other tasks.

Two ranch hands – Danny and Diego – live at the house with the family and spend every day, all day, working with Hank to operate the farm. They help milk the cows and goats, tend to sick animals, help with feedings, take care of cleaning of the freestalls, and also pretty much do every single job that Hank assigns to you.

You think they felt bad for you, with your puffy face and red eyes, dragging yourself around the barn during that dark before dawn at the end of that first week. Feeling dejected and out of sorts, missing the familiarity of your old home, being useless at basic homestead chores – they kept catching you crying in any corner you could find to yourself. They started doing your work back then, and even though that was over two months ago, you still barely lift a finger. Hank never seems to notice, all he cares is that the work is done.

You don’t talk much, you just keep to yourself and pet the animals. For a while you thought they must think you were stupid, but it turns out they just wanted to get on your good side. One day early on, they asked if you’d told Tess or Joel about them, and not knowing what the answer should be, you’d muttered not yet, and ran away. It wasn’t until you walked into the barn one snowy morning weeks later and found them standing too close to each other that it even dawned on you what part of them they were asking about.

You knew Hank wouldn’t approve if he saw them behaving that way, if he knew what it implied. Maybe he’d already seen them, and a threat had been made. Hank was a conservative man, old fashioned and strict. You thought maybe the phrase small-minded might also apply, but Hank was kind to all of you, so you tried not to judge him too harshly. You weren’t entirely sure why Danny and Diego were worried about Tess or Joel finding out about their relationship, but you were pretty sure they wouldn’t give a shit. 

Joel was probably fucking half the women in town, why would he care if two guys down the valley were fucking each other? You kept that tidbit to yourself, along with the stories that Tess used to tell you about her gay brother, so that Danny and Diego would keep helping you – keep doing all your work. That was probably a little fucked up, to hold it over their heads in a way, but it also kept your boots from being covered in cow shit from mucking stalls all morning and your fingers from freezing off while milking cows all afternoon. It also meant you got to hang out with baby goats, which was sometimes the only happiness you had.

–

It’s the last Sunday in March and you’re sitting in the middle of the pew, wedged between Amber and Diego, as Joel gets up to address the congregation. Before you can do your usual sinking down in the seat to make yourself less visible, you see Bianca out of the corner of your eye. Bianca is here! You haven’t seen her since she moved out of the house before Thanksgiving.

You’re so focused on trying to look around the people’s heads in front of you to see her that you aren’t fully listening to the announcement Joel is making. Everyone around you begins to stand up and applaud and it makes it impossible to see Bianca, so you stand as well, confused now what everyone is clapping for. Slowly the applause dies down and everyone is sitting back down, but trying to get a glimpse of your friend, you remain standing a little too long.

And that’s when you see it. The baby. A very small baby. A newborn baby. Joel is holding it and smiling and as everyone sits down he hands it back to Bianca. You forget you’re supposed to be sitting down and don’t notice that everyone else around you is already seated. You’re still standing there, staring at this baby. Bianca has a baby? Wait, is that Joel’s fucking baby?

Amber is tugging on your shirt sleeve but it’s too late, Joel has turned back to the crowd, and for the first time in ten weeks, he looks right at you. You can’t fucking move, you can’t look away. The two of you stare at each other for far too long and you notice people starting to look back and forth between you, a low murmur spreading over the mass. Amber starts pulling frantically on your arm and Hank’s voice booms from the end of the row, ordering you to sit down. You hear Tess hissing Joel’s name from the front row.

A cheshire cat grin creeps across his face and he finally breaks eye contact with you, turning to address the congregation once more. You sit, plopping down heavily in your seat. You think Hank and his wife are whispering about you and Amber is telling you how embarrassing that was, but you can’t hear anything over the thumping of your own heart and the ringing in your ears. Bianca was fucking pregnant… the whole time? The whole time. Bile rises in your throat. Only then does it dawn on you that Tess moved her out when she started to show. That’s why she was getting bigger. Saliva begins to flood your mouth.

Joel fucked every woman in that house. Jesus fucking Christ, you were so blind. Your stomach lurches. He must fuck Tess too. No wonder Tess wanted you out of there – you were taking up too much of his time, too much of his focus. That’s probably why she sent Bianca away too, looking at her pregnant belly would have been a reminder that Joel was fucking all those other people. Tess must be jealous, right? You don’t blame her. You’d be jealous too. Fuck, you are jealous. Still. Even now, after all this time. 

You jump up out of your seat and scrabble over laps, ignoring Hank’s protests you exit the pew and dart out of the sanctuary. Once in the foyer you run into the nearest bathroom and retch into the sink, unable to make it to the toilet. Once the contents of your stomach have been emptied out, you splash your face with water and rinse your mouth out.

–

You hide in the bathroom until the service ends, listening as people pass by the door, telling Amber you’re fine and you’ll meet the family in the rec hall when she comes in to check on you. You wait until you don’t hear any more conversation or shuffling feet in the foyer to finally exit the bathroom. The entire building is empty except for one other person who is waiting outside the bathroom when you come out.

Joel.

Your boots squeak on the floor as you stop quickly in your tracks with the full weight of his attention on you now. You forgot how heavy it feels, locked in his gaze – an invisible weight pushing down on your body and trapping you where you stand. You can’t run away, you can’t even manage to look away. How does he still have this fucking effect on you? He stands before you, seemingly just a man, but taking up the whole room, monumental and intimidating. But in this moment, caught up in the flood of emotions you feel, you forget that you’re supposed to be afraid of him. You forget because the strongest thing you feel right now is anger.

“Is that your baby?” you snarl.

He scoffs and waits a beat, letting you anticipate his response. “That’s none of your goddamn business,” he replies – in a church – one corner of his mouth turning up.

“Fuck you.”

He cocks an eyebrow and takes a single step towards you, a reminder that you should be afraid of him. You gasp and take two steps backwards, colliding with the wall behind you, your head hitting it with a thump that echoes in the empty hall. He’s searching your face now, eyes pausing on your mouth. You’re reminded that the closet where he had you on your knees is only a few feet away. Your heart starts to race and you take rapid breaths, feeling the adrenaline begin to course through your veins.

No. He’s not gonna intimidate you. He’s going to fucking answer you.

“Who’s baby was that?” you ask again, louder this time. He looks surprised you’re still speaking. “Is that your fucking baby?”

“What do you care?” he snaps.

“I– I don’t,” you stammer.

Another scoff. He’s fucking laughing at you. Another smug grin. This son of a bitch. 

“Well now,” he shakes his head slowly, “That really doesn’t seem like the truth.”  He takes measured steps forward, closing in on you.

“It is,” you manage to squeak out, swallowing around the lump in your throat with an audible gulp. This is the least fucking convincing thing you’ve ever said. “I don’t care. I just wanna know–”

Tsk, he hums, interrupting you. “Sounds like a lie to me,” he shakes his head more and takes another step, nearly toe to toe with you now.

You do everything in your power to keep your chin up, to keep your eyes locked on his and your teeth gritted. You hate him. You miss him. You hate yourself. 

“You’d know,” you spit. “All you do is lie.” You’re half insulting him, half reminding yourself.

“At least I’m good at it, sweetheart.”

–

The ride back to the farm is quiet. Laurel asks if you’re feeling okay but otherwise no one mentions the scene you and Joel made during the service. Once you get back you head to your room with Amber, both of you changing into less formal clothes to do your afternoon chores. You dress slowly, letting her finish first and leave you alone in the room. 

You pull the backpack Tess had given you the night you came here out of the back of the closet. When she had handed it to you behind the skating rink, it was already packed with your clothes and any little trinkets you’d had in your room. She’d packed you a couple books but you noticed she hadn’t included the one Joel had given you on Christmas, the one you never read, the one you never even took to your room, the one you tried not to think about every time you saw it sitting on the mantle. 

You had told her you would give Beth your room and she pulled this bag out of a wagon, ready to send you on your way. She was ready for you to go even if you weren’t, and so you went. That night. Without so much as a goodbye. You take that bag now and hold it by your legs, walking down the stairs to the basement as casually as possible.

When you come up from the basement, you run out to the barn to pretend to do your afternoon chores. Danny and Diego do anything you were expected to do and you spend time petting some of your favorite goats and hanging out in the hayloft. When the sun begins to set you rip a large piece of newspaper off the stack and climb down, sneaking out of the barn, down the lane, and to the creek.

It’s time to let go of another memory. Maybe your last one? This is a big one. You’ve been holding onto it, trying your best not to think of it, willing yourself to pass over it the way Joel’s eyes would pass over you on Sundays. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve been unwilling to let it go. Until now. Now it’s time.

You let yourself remember the night…

You’d already let him into your pants in the hallway after the meeting a few weeks prior, and you knew that fucking him was an eventuality. That week the meeting ended late and every other person shuffled out of the meeting hall before you had even finished putting the chairs away. Joel stood at the door, holding it open for the last farmer and his son, letting the cold, snowy air pour in as he said his goodbyes.

When he quietly closed the door, he turned to the open, empty room and looked you in the eyes. He reached over and flipped all the light switches, casting the room in sudden darkness. With no time for your eyes to adjust you were temporarily blind, hands immediately out at your front, searching, waiting for him to sneak up on you. Your nervous giggle is interrupted by the flick and hiss of a match and then he’s right there, only a couple feet in front of you, lighting a candle.

He leans over and sets it on the ground and then brings his match to a second candle. He repeats this process until there is a wide circle of what must be a dozen burning lights surrounding you both on the floor. He steps inside the circle, holds out his hand for yours, and you swear you can hear music when he pulls you in tight to his body and begins swaying back and forth with you.

This is new, being alone together like this. You’ve never been anywhere so quiet with him. At home it’s hardly ever quiet, and even when you do get time alone with him, it always seems to be interrupted. If you go home right now, he goes to his bedroom, you go to yours, and the night ends – but here, dancing in his arms amidst the flames, time slows down.

“You’ve been keeping secrets from me, Joel,” you’d teased.

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you’d said, your head resting on his body.

He grazed his lips across your cheek, placing kisses as he moved them to your ear.

“Maybe this is what we’d do on our first date,” he’d whispered.

“Dinner and dancing?”

“Dancing and breakfast,” he corrects.

“Breakfast?”

“The next morning,” he smiles, and you do too, and then he kisses you.

That kiss held a million promises. It made you forget everything that happened before him. That was when you knew you were in love with him. The earth stood still and everything else faded away. The warm circle of light illuminated you both and made the rest of the room seem even darker. Nothing outside that circle mattered. You were the only two people on earth. You existed only for each other.

He must have known it, at that moment, he must have been able to tell. It was obvious, wasn’t it? Your body went limp in his arms and you let every last trace of doubt and fear leave your body, submitting to your desire for him. Submitting to his desire for you. All pretense of dancing was given up and your passionate kisses became deeper. 

He held you tight and slowly began to remove your clothing, calling you baby and whispering adorations to you in the flickering glow of the candlelight. Holding your breasts in his massive hands, he dipped his head to your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and circling it with his tongue. He sucked the bud past his teeth and lightly bit down, soothing it with the flat of his tongue while you dragged your nails across his scalp, mewling at his ministrations. 

It wasn’t until he finally got you completely naked that you’d realized he was still fully dressed. You kept trying to touch the front of his pants like you’d done before but he wouldn’t let anything but your pleasure be the focus. He let you grind yourself on him, his hands grabbing your ass, pushing you on his thigh, using his body for friction as you continued to makeout, but he wouldn’t let you give his cock any attention. 

He slowly sunk you both down to the cold linoleum floor and at last began to unbutton his shirt. He shucked his flannel down his arms, leaving his undershirt on, and spread it out on the floor beside you. Using his hands to guide you, he positioned you on your hands and knees overtop his shirt.

You remember the feel of the soft green flannel under your knees, the cold air hitting the wetness that had smeared down your inner thighs, his burning hot hands running down your back to grab and spread your ass, and the gentle kisses he placed all over you. You could barely make out the quiet things he was saying he was going to do to you, it almost felt like he was talking to himself.

I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. I’m gonna take care of you. Let me taste you, baby.

You had your head turned, watching him, until he bent down and began licking you. You closed your eyes as your face went red-hot with embarrassment that another person was seeing you like this, had his mouth on you there. You’d had boys put their mouth on your pussy before but never like this. Never with your most intimate parts spread wide and on display, a face buried in them and devouring you.

The boys before had laid you on your back and bobbed their head up and down, taking halting, tentative licks. You had waited for it to feel like it was supposed to, watching them fumbling in your folds only to give up mere minutes later, moving along to chase their own pleasure as if what they just did was anything close to what you wanted. Giving you just a glimpse of what it could be but never delivering what you needed, as if the act itself was perfunctory, just a means to an end. This was different. 

Joel wasn’t tentative and he wasn’t fumbling. Joel knew exactly what he was doing, knew right where and how to touch you. Almost immediately your shame turned to pleasure as he lapped at you gently, swollen and extra-sensitive in anticipation as you were. This was what it was supposed to feel like. This is how a man was supposed to touch you. You began to moan and he pulled his face back a little, kissing and nuzzling your ass cheeks while bringing his hands to spread you again.

So fucking beautiful, you are so fucking beautiful here. Look how wet you are for me, baby. Can you feel this? Can you feel it? Do you know how beautiful you are? 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to stop calling you beautiful because the next thing he did was slowly slide two fingers into your gushing hole. The sting of the stretch was eased by the pleasure of the fullness, his thick fingers taking up so much space inside you, pushing on your walls. You felt wetness practically flowing out of you and you thought it must be dripping down his hand. Before you could feel any embarrassment his fingers began to shift out and back in, and you immediately thought about how good his cock would feel filling you up like this, making you moan long and loud.

Yes baby, let me hear you, tell me how it feels. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need. 

You managed to blabber something about needing him to touch you there, somehow still too shy - despite your current condition – to say the word clit to him. You didn’t have to, he knew what you needed. He pulled his fingers out and you heard him shuffle around and when you worked up the courage to look backwards you saw his knees sticking up behind you. Oh shit. You looked down, underneath you instead. He’d positioned himself laying on his back, face up, directly under your cunt. You had never had anyone do this to you.

Come on baby, sit back. No, shhhh, it’s alright. Just lower yourself down a little, just like that baby. I need to eat this pussy. I need you, please.

He guided you down by your hips until his lips made contact with your core. You were too scared to put your full weight on him so you remained leaned forward a bit on your hands, hovering just above his head with shaking thighs, despite his incessant pulling on your ass downward and moaning into your wet heat. His lips closed around your sensitive bud and you felt him begin to gently suck on it. 

You couldn’t believe he was doing this. You were dizzy with desire. Never in your life had anyone had their mouth on you like this, like they were making out with your cunt. You alternated between feverishly throwing your head back and lowering your chin to your chest to greedily take in the sight of him ravenously eating you. You had never felt such blinding pleasure at the hands of another and you couldn’t stop yourself from wailing in ecstasy. You watched him pull away from you to take deep, gulping breaths, licking his lips of your wetness spread all over the lower half of his face. 

Sit down baby, you can sit on my face. Just relax, I’m gonna make you feel so good. I know what you need, baby. I’m gonna take care of you. You taste so good, so fuckin’ sweet. This pussy was made for me.

You were trying not to sit down on his face, trying not to suffocate him, trying not to think about what a fucking mess he was making of you and you of himself. When he slowly pushed his thick fingers back inside your wet clutch, any and all thoughts left your head completely. He increased the suction of his mouth on your clit and began to flick the tip of his tongue up and down, maintaining a steady tempo of stimulating your clit and fucking you on his fingers.

The pace he set was bringing you closer to your release – for the first time in your life you were able to push everything else out of your mind and focus on your own pleasure. You sat back on your knees a bit more, putting more weight onto him and letting his hands hold you at your hips. You reached between your legs to run your fingers through his hair, wanting to give him a fraction of the intimacy he was giving you. You could hardly believe it. This was how sex was supposed to feel. This is why people liked it so much. This is why it meant so much. You had never felt anything close to this. This was everything. 

Never faltering in his movements, never breaking his rhythm, he carried you higher and higher, finally cresting over your peak. Head thrown back and gripping his hair in your fists, fireworks burst behind your eyes as his name poured out of your mouth. You let him guide your hips in slow, smooth movements across his face, riding out the waves of your climax. 

With muffled groans he continued to eat you through your orgasm, grabbing handfuls of your ass and reaching up to pinch your nipples until his insatiable attention became overwhelming and started to sting, causing you to shrink away from his touch. He pulled back then, gently turned you on your back – still on top of his flannel – and you leaned back on your elbows as he moved back to your cunt, gently lapping up your release. 

You couldn’t believe how good it still felt, his hot tongue gently rasping against your swollen lips, his wet breath panting across your core. He was still moaning into you, the vibrations a pleasant sensation as he licked up everything you could give him. He placed kisses on your inner thighs and over your mound before rising to help you up and get back into your clothes. It wasn’t until the next day that you’d realized Joel must have left your underwear somewhere scattered on the floor and had blushed, hoping that whoever found them later wouldn’t know it was you who’d lost them.

You did so good, baby, that was so good. You were so beautiful. You tasted so good. So good, baby.

You briefly noticed there was a wet stain on the front of his pants but you weren’t sure if it was from him or from you. He locked up and then carried you back to the house that night, your legs were complete jello. You were pretty sure Tess was still up when you got back but you couldn’t think about the state she saw you in, all you could think about was him. He’d put you down on the porch at your insistence but he still had to help you up the stairs to your room. You’d fallen into bed and were asleep within minutes. 

That was the night you knew you were all-in. You gave yourself over to him completely. Even though you didn’t have sex, you knew you would have. You would have done anything for him, let him do anything to you. You would have let him ruin you. You were ready to give up every part of you, and knew you would have sex with him soon, knew that it was inevitable. That was the night you placed your heart into his massive hands and left it with him so that he could mangle it to pieces and leave you a broken person.

But even that’s not a fair assessment, is it? That’s not a correct memory. You were always a broken person. He didn’t cause it and he never could have fixed it. There was something inside you that was irreparable. It was never his job to fulfill your needy fantasies. You can be mad at him for lying to you but you need to face your own part in this. You did this to yourself. You put yourself in this position.

The only solution is to remove yourself from the equation. You don’t belong here, you never did. You probably don’t really belong anywhere. You’re not meant to be with him. He can’t fucking save you. You have to save yourself. You have to find your own way. You have to leave. You have to leave.

You focus on the feel of the delicate, aged paper in your hands, the soft squeaking noises it makes as you push it into your palm, the way you push it back and forth in your hands to get it as small as possible. Then you hold it in between your thumb and forefinger, hold your arm out over the water, and drop it in. You watch as the ball is quickly overtaken by moisture, pulled under the surface, and carried away on the current. 

–

In the dimming light of dusk you can see inside the farmhouse quite well. Lit by lanterns, you see Laurel through the kitchen window, working with Amber to fix dinner as Hank sits in his chair in the living room reading his bible. You turn your head and see the two ranch hands in the far field, herding the goats into their shed for the night. No one is looking for you.

You pick up your backpack from the ground and secure it over your shoulders, walking down the lane for the last time, never to return.

🖤

NEXT

Thank you so so so much to my amazing editor, @papipascalispunk, for helping me with this series, even when you're sick and high on cold medicine 🫂You're the fucking A-1 steak sauce.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[cobaltperun]

Lost (5) - Keep me breathing

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Warning for this chapter: Talks about suicide if that can trigger you in any way, please, don't read.

Word count: 7k

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Another night that comes undone. You're the one that keeps me breathing.-

Something was missing, she felt cold and vulnerable, and she didn't feel arms around her. She was alone. She wasn’t supposed to be alone, you’ve been with her since you found out she was attacked, but now Tara woke up and you weren't in the bed with her. She was drowsy from the medicine and you not being there didn't make it any better. Why did you leave? When? How come she didn't wake up?

And then the memories came back. The knife over your chest, the way you held Ghostface's wrist, you saying you'd be right back, and then the terror she felt as you knelt, as you got shot, as she shot you, as you lost consciousness and were carried away by the doctors. She couldn't breathe, she felt as if something was squeezing her chest, as if no matter how hard she tried she couldn't breathe.

Her inhaler. She needed her inhaler. Tara frantically looked around until she found it. She pressed it against her lips as your words came back to her. 'Love, look at me,' that's what you said, that was definitely what you said. And it wasn’t just some friendly nickname either, this was you, and you… you’ve never called her like that. She called you Baby for a bit, when she figured out that would get you to comply with her wishes easier, but she stopped after getting together with Amber, and even while she called you that it wasn’t meant to be specifically romantic. But you calling her ‘Love’, there was nothing friendly about it, about the word you chose, about the look in your eyes, the tone of your voice.

You should have said that word four months ago. You shouldn't be saying that word now that she shot you. Now that you bled for her. Now that you...

Did you survive?

She tore the tubes off, not even registering the lack of pain, she didn't even consider just how strong the painkillers were if she wasn't feeling that excruciating pain she felt earlier. Someone had to tell her what happened to you. When she last saw you you blacked out and doctors took you away from her. Someone grabbed her by the shoulders and she tried to push whoever did that away. "Miss Carpenter you have to stay in bed," it was a nurse and she was already calling for doctors.

"Y/N! How is she?" she paused for a moment. "Uh, Y/N L/N, she was shot earlier. Please tell me how she is?" she needed to hear you were alive. You had to be. You wouldn't leave here like this. What kind of twisted reality would she be living in if you were dead. Born sick, abandoned, neglected, attacked in her own home just to get Sam back to Woodsboro, if this was how she lost you as well… as consumed by despair, terror and guilt as she was a sick thought that it would have been better if she was killed the first time she was attacked crossed her mind.

"She's alive, miss L/N had a mild heart attack, her injuries are serious, but she is expected to make a full recovery. Now get back in bed and don't tear anything else off," the knowledge that you were alive calmed her down, chased away the despair driven thoughts she had. But still, a heart attack. Was that what was happening while you were carrying her? The guilt gnawed at her chest, if it wasn't for her you'd be fine. It was all her fault that you were in that condition.

The nurse helped her back into the bed and probably noticed the look on Tara's face. "Sorry about putting it like that, I should have been more considerate. I just had to answer the same question two hours ago."

Tara looked at the nurse. "W-What?" did she wake up before and couldn't remember it?

"Heart attack and that girl still tried to force her way to you. Wouldn't calm down until we told her you were fine and even then, we still had to sedate her to keep her from reopening her wounds," Tara looked away, embarrassed by the shy smile she couldn't keep off her face and the blush that clearly had no intention of fading any time soon.

"Give it an hour or so and we'll see if there's anything we can do to put you in the room together," the nurse assured her and left as the doctors came in to check on her.

As they checked her wounds and made sure none of them reopened Tara thought back to what you said right before Sam came and saved the two of you.

'Just in case I don't get another chance. You saved a life that had no right to continue. So let me-' you didn't get to finish whatever you were saying, but she knew whatever you were about to say wasn't something she wanted to hear.

There was so much you kept from her, the agreement, as you called it, between you and your parents, the reason behind such an agreement, and now this. According to you, Tara saved a life that had no right to continue. She didn't get it. She refused to make the connection between a 'life that had no right to continue' and your life, but what other life could you have been talking about?

Somehow, as high as she was from all the painkillers, she kept thinking back to one particular moment, about a year after Sam abandoned her.

~X~

Her mom was getting ready again. By now Tara recognized each sign her mom would go out, she recognized the patterns that told her how long she'd be alone. By the looks of it, she wouldn't be seeing her mother for at least two days, perhaps even three.

It's been a year since Sam left, no, abandoned, Tara, and the house Tara lived in felt less and less like home with each day that passed. Her mother didn't even bother to lock the doors, let alone say something to Tara. An 'I'll see you later' would have been enough to soothe Tara, but she didn't even get that. She was well-behaved, she did her best at school, she didn't cause any trouble. Surely her mother wouldn't leave her.

What would happen if she did? If she left Tara all alone? Would someone force Sam to come back and get her? Or would someone try to contact her father first? Would they even want to take her in? They left her, so no, she didn’t think they would. Would she be stuck in foster homes? The only person who she believed would want to take her in was you. And you weren’t eighteen yet, so you couldn’t do that. But what if her mom abandoned her after you turned eighteen? Would your parents let her stay with you? They probably would, though not because they liked her. No, Tara was sure they didn’t like her, especially your dad, but you’d talk them into letting her stay. She’d stay with her best friend, she’d live with her best friend, she could sneak into your room to watch a movie whenever, and not just on rare nights she was allowed to stay at your place.

Somehow, that thought, that the moment you turned eighteen you’d be able to prevent anything from keeping the two of you apart, comforted her. When she thought like that, she didn’t hope that her mother would never abandon her, she just hoped she wouldn’t abandon her in the next two years.

Almost on auto-pilot, she unlocked her phone and called you. It rang for a while. That didn't worry her, it always took you a bit to pick up your phone. if you weren't at school or with her you were most likely training, so it took you some time to answer the phone. She counted seconds in her head and then, just as she reached twenty-seven seconds you picked up, slightly out of breath.

"How's it going Snuggle Tar-Bear," despite the anxiousness squeezing at her chest she smiled at the nickname. It sounded like she did interrupt your training, you were a bit out of breath.

"Awful, mom won't be home for a couple of days and I'm so bored," she tried to sound cheerful, to feign being bored and hopefully get you to skip training for at least a day. "Wanna sleep at my place tonight? I promise I won't make you watch The Babadook again," she was sure you've seen it at least five times by now, and every time it was because of her.

There was a pause for a moment. "Oh, no you don't, we're watching that damn movie. I want to see how many times it'll take for you to get bored of it."

Her smile widened. "You're coming then?" just reassure her, tell her a definitive yes and that's all she'd need for now.

"Yeah, I'll be there in about an hour. I just need to get something done and I'll come over," there it was, the reassurance she needed. As long as she had you, she’d never be alone, that’s how it was for years now.

"Great, don't take too long," she couldn't hide the eagerness in her voice, you've been busy over the past few days, and she missed you.

"The longer you talk the longer it'll take me to get there," you were teasing her, but there was a bit of seriousness to that statement, so with a rushed 'Bye' she hung up. With a happy grin on her face, she rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in her pillow. Just an hour to go, she could wait that long. She looked around her room, at the framed photos, one of you and her, when her and Mindy won an award for their short movie. One of her family, while it was still whole, and one of her and Sam, the last two photos were bittersweet, memories of times that would never come back, and she always felt a mix of feelings when looking at them. That was why she kept the gifts from Sam and her dad in her drawer, only pulling them out when she missed them the most. There were bits of your presence in the room, even aside from the photo. The Babadook DVD you bought her, among a few others, the snow globe with three reindeer she liked, and you got for her. You were a part of her life, a part she never wanted to lose, a part she was sure she’d never lose. With the grin she couldn’t wipe off her face she stood up and went downstairs to watch the TV to pass time before you came to her house.

The house… unlike her room, didn’t feel like home. The liquor cabinet she despised, the bare furniture, with barely anything personal in the way the rooms were organized. The cold permeating the house had nothing to do with the dull colors, it had everything to do with the absence of people in it, the silence that was rarely filled, and the size of it that enhanced the sense of loneliness. So, she rarely spent time outside of her room, unless someone came over.

A bit over an hour later she heard knocking on her front door and jumped to her feet. You were there and you looked... tired? It didn't show in the way you carried yourself, but there was a sense of exhaustion in your eyes. "Hey, are you okay, Y/N?" she reached up and, despite that not being what she usually did, caressed your cheek. She didn't like the way your eyes widened at that, as if you got caught doing something you shouldn't.

"I'm here, I'm okay," back then she had no idea it would take four years to figure out what those words meant, back then she just took those words as you saying you wouldn't be there if something was seriously wrong. And she figured that was true because if something was actually seriously wrong, you'd be there trying to fix it, not here with her watching a movie and having a sleepover. So, when you stepped in and picked her up, when your arms trembled around her, she brushed it off as fatigue from training. When you took a few extra seconds to let her go she explained it by you missing her. That explanation felt good. Someone missed her. Her dad didn't. Her mom wouldn't. Sam didn't. You did. So, she went with that explanation. "Thanks for calling, I'm sorry you had to," from the moment you said those words that exhaustion she saw sort of faded away and you were back to normal.

~X~

You woke up again five minutes ago and while you wanted to go and find Tara to make sure she was fine you needed to make a phone call. Which made the white ceiling above you extremely interesting, frankly, a white sheet of paper would have been worked as a distraction given who you had to call.

"Come on, you're not afraid of one phone call," who were you lying to, you were more afraid of this phone call than almost anything in the world. The only thing that ever scared you more was seeing that gun pointed at Tara, but now you didn’t have adrenaline fueling you. Taking a deep breath, you pressed the button and waited.

"Susan Smith, how may I help you," you immediately recognized the voice. You immediately wanted to hang up, to pretend you called the wrong number and forget about this. You couldn’t though, you had to keep Tara safe, and she would be the safest if she also had medical care available to her. "Hello?"

You swallowed, getting over your fear for Tara’s sake. "Uh, good evening, I guess, I'm-"

"Y/N?" oh, this was definitely not how you wanted this conversation to go. You did not imagine she would recognize your voice.

"Yeah, it's me, I know it's sudden, but I need help. Can I come to Sacramento with two other people? Tonight?" you spoke slowly, waiting for Susan to hang up. She didn't.

"Of course, Honey, you don't need to ask," you must have imagined it, or you were too high from painkillers, or something.

"One of the other two, Tara, she has a broken leg and she got stabbed and she also has asthma, and I don't know who else to turn to. So, I need to keep her safe, since the ones that attacked her are still out there and no one knows about you and me, and I-" you were just piling up more and more words at this point.

"Y/N, hey, I'm here for you, I'll help," Susan's words made you squeeze your eyes shut, you couldn't cry now.

"Got it. We're in Woodsboro right now, so we'll arrive sometime tonight. I'll text you when we leave the hospital," you despised how vulnerable you sounded.

"I'll be waiting. Please drive safely, okay?" she didn't change a bit. She was exactly how you remembered her, the kindest adult you ever met in your childhood.

"Thank you," you nearly cried. It was fine if you couldn't stop a tear or two, right? Just this once you could let yourself be weak, just for a moment, right?

"Thank you for choosing me," yeah, you could be weak. "It's okay, honey, let it out. It's okay," and so you just sat there, letting all the emotions you felt over the past two days flow out of you. There weren't even that many tears there to cry, but damn, did it feel good.

"Right, I'm gonna go get Tara and Sam now. See you soon," you felt lighter, much lighter, as if those tears released the tension within you that you didn’t even realize you had.

Tara's room wasn't too far from your own, she was like five doors down the hall, and you didn't even try to suppress your grin when you saw Tara awake and with Sam. "Why hello my favorite person and Sam," you leaned against the door frame as the sisters turned toward you.

"You're also so high right now," you could see the brightness in Tara's eyes even from where you stood, the relief caused by seeing you, and Sam, as if in on a secret chuckled lightly.

"There's a joke that went right over my head somewhere in the hall. Anyway, glory to the painkillers," you approached Tara's bed and crouched right next to her. "You okay?"

"You're the one that got hurt, you know?" she said incredulously.

"Meh, details. You had an asthma attack," you replied, not even looking down when you felt her hand taking your own.

"And you had a heart attack," she squeezed your hand, her fingers trembling slightly, and you placed your right hand on her forearm, lightly moving your fingers up and down along it to comfort her.

You smiled when she visibly relaxed at the gesture. "And now we're in a who got off easier contest. Well, you better be okay because I'm taking you the hell out of here."

Tara nodded. "Yeah, Sam and I just talked. She had the same idea," well that definitely made things easier.

"I'll just get Richie and we can go to Modesto," Sam said, which didn't make things easier.

"Yeah, no. Great that you're coming with us, but we're not going to Modesto and we are not taking Richie," you put your foot down. How did Sam not realize Modesto wasn't safe for Tara? Or her for that matter?

"Wait, Y/N-" Sam began, but you weren’t having it.

"I'm not waiting, Sam. Bastards are after you, right? So, they very likely know you were in Modesto before. I'm not letting you take Tara, or go there by yourself while we're at it, when it's the second most dangerous place for both of you," you didn't want to argue, you really didn't, but you would if that's what you needed to do.

Tara pulled your hand slightly, and you looked at her, smiling once again. In the end she’d choose who she wanted to go with, if you and Sam couldn’t come to an agreement. The look in her eyes told you she’d go with you. Not that you’d ever make her choose. She just got Sam back in her life, and you weren’t taking that from her. If you really couldn’t reason with Sam in any way, you’d still go with them, because no matter how dangerous the place was, you’d at least be able to fight for Tara.

Luckily, Sam contemplated your words and seemingly saw your reasoning as she nodded. “Fine,” she sighed.

"Where do we go then?" Tara asked, clearly relieved that there wasn’t an argument between you and Sam.

"Sacramento. I made a call a few minutes ago. Susan is a nurse; she can make sure your recovery is going fine and she'll let us stay at her place. Before you ask, if anyone figured out the connection between me and Susan, they'd have to be one hell of an investigator. More importantly, no one in their right mind would think I'd go to her of all people. So, it should be safe, or, at the very least, buy us time to recover," even if whoever attacked you went to your parents to ask where you could be and somehow got them to take a guess, they would never make the connection.

"Okay, what about Richie?" Sam questioned.

"One is a male, regardless of how injured I am, Amber, Mindy, Liv, they can't hold me down, and if the logic is that it's someone you or Tara know, well, now it's between him and Chad," you scrolled the news when you woke up, trying to delay calling Susan. So, you knew. You knew about Wes and Judy. It hurt, but you had to prioritize. "I don't know about you; I'd rather avoid taking that chance."

Sam nodded. "Let's get going then. You'll need some clothes right, so we should make a stop by your place. Is it still the same address?" she was pushing her emotions back, trying not to consider the possibility that her boyfriend was behind this. You honestly admired the way she focused on keeping Tara safe and nothing else.

"Nope, new address. Some of Tara's stuff is there as well, so we won't have to go back to Tara's place. I'll go pick that up, you get Tara ready and then we get the fuck out of here,” and that's how things went, sure, you were a bit irresponsible for driving in the state you were in, but it was Woodsboro, and there wasn't a lot of traffic, especially this late.

You came back to the hospital to find Sam outside with Tara and two women you didn't recognize, though one looked suspiciously like Gale Weathers. That would make the other Sidney Prescott? Oh well, none of your business. You stepped outside, placed Tara's bag on the back seat, and while smiling at Tara to reassure her you were fine reached down to pick her up.

"Y/N wait," you halted at her concerned tone.

"Yeah?" you tilted your head to the side.

Tara had the perfect 'Are you for real right now' face. "Your injuries," she reminded you.

"Really Tara? You weigh like, a hundred pounds and a potato, a very small potato by the way," you lifted her up and took a deep breath. "Okay, maybe not a very small potato, but a potato nonetheless."

Tara let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan as she facepalmed. "See? I told you?"

"You said, and I quote: your injuries, it's not injuries, you're just heavy. It's a potato that broke the MMA fighter's back or something like that," you reached the right side of the car and only then realized you made a grave mistake. "Uh, mind opening the doors, my hands are kinda full?"

Tara shook her hand in disbelief and tried to reach the handle with her right hand. Which didn't exactly work. "Sam, a little help here?" she called out as she looked at her left hand. She wasn't sure she could grip the handle hard enough to open the doors. The other Ghostface squeezed her injured hand and then even further injured it, not to mention she somewhat opened the wound when she was forced out of her hospital room. How bad was her hand now?

Sam was quick to open the doors and you gently sat Tara down. You made sure her leg was comfortable and closed the doors. While you placed the wheelchair and the crutches in the trunk. By the time you were done, Sam was already in the driver's seat. that was a weird experience, seeing someone else in your seat. Sure, you taught Tara how to drive, but this was different.

The moment you got in the car next to Tara she leaned over and rested her head on your right shoulder. Her bag was moved to the front seat with the bag you picked up from your apartment, thus removing any barrier between you two. It wasn't like you wanted a barrier, she just had her inhaler there, so you figured it would be better if she had it near her. Either way, Tara made a different call, so you smiled and eagerly wrapped your right arm around her. In approximately three hours you'd see Susan again and it made you anxious to think how that would turn out. She sounded eager enough to help, but still... Before you could get too worried or forget about that detail you sent Susan a message, saying you were on your way.

"Are you sure we can trust Susan?" Sam's question stopped your train of thought for a moment.

"Yeah, she's my half-brother's mother," surprisingly it wasn't difficult to say that. There was a time when even thinking about Zack felt difficult, but it looked like time did make things easier. Or maybe you just grew up and learnt to deal with it better.

"Half-brother?!" if you weren't holding her, you were sure Tara would have sat up, well, she tried but you were kinda too tired to move your arm and let her do it.

"You didn't know?" Sam really didn't phrase that question correctly.

"You did?!" the painkillers they gave Tara must have been way stronger than the ones they gave you since she pushed her way out of your grip as if she was perfectly fine. Granted, she did lean on your side to do it. The same side that got shot...

"Gah, easy Tara!" you groaned, wincing at the pain.

"Shit, sorry!" she winced, biting her lower lip when she saw you breathing through your teeth. Yup, definitely weaker painkillers.

"You okay?" Sam asked, as if her question didn't get you in this situation.

You gave her a thumbs up. "Talk it out while I recover."

"Talk what out?" and the older Carpenter was confused. How? You had no idea. Now, sure, you and Sam were never all that close, you got along mostly for Tara’s sake back when you and Tara were kids, and normally Tara would know there was no way you’d say to Sam something you weren’t willing to share with her. Right now, however, the way Sam phrased the question made it appear as if you did do just that.

"Did you know, Sam?" and Tara was right back on track, it was probably good that you were in a car and not somewhere she could properly move.

"Of course I didn't, I just thought if someone knew you'd know," Sam immediately corrected her mistake and Tara frowned.

"She's telling the truth, Tara. I didn't tell anyone. Zack's been dead for almost a decade now so there wasn't a point in mentioning him," you decided to be quick and to the point with the conversation. Hoping they'd get the hint and drop it.

"We're here if you ever need to talk, right Tara?" Sam got the hint, that was for sure, and if there was any chance whatsoever that Tara didn't, that definitely got the point across.

Tara did what only Tara could do to you. She wrapped her arms around you and, while avoiding your wounds, and her own, which was actually really impressive, leaned into you. "That goes without saying," she said with so much conviction it nearly shattered all your defenses. Before you could speak, she pressed a finger against your lips. "Don't say thank you."

You grinned at that, and she removed the finger. "This is really not a comfortable position Snuggle Tar-Bear," you joked, trying to lighten the mood. Also, you were worried about her leg. Sure, she positioned it in a way that made it seem okay, but maybe painkillers prevented her from realizing if something wasn't right.

"Don't care. You need me," she mumbled into your neck, and you gave in, shifting so the two of you were half lying on the backseat. Your upper back, which also meant one of your stab wounds, was pressed against the doors, but you figured it was worth it.

Your mind was in shambles over everything happening. Tara was attacked, you had a heart attack, Zack died from heart disease, and you were going to see Susan for the first time since Zack's funeral. You were going to see Susan, because you needed to keep Tara safe.

All of that and the memories that came with it flooded your mind. Made you restless.

It was a simple story. You met the brother you didn't know you had, he changed your life, introduced you to MMA, died, and then his death subsequently ruined your relationship with your parents. After his death, your life fell apart, going from arguing with your parents to silence, then back to arguing, then again back to silence, until even arguing ended and all that was left was to wait until you were eighteen.

That was why the discomfort and pain were worth it because Tara made those thoughts quiet. So, you closed your eyes, hoping to take a nap.

"Y/N," Tara, though, had a different idea.

"Hmm?" you didn't open your eyes, but she knew you were listening.

"What did you mean when you said I saved a life that had no right to continue?" and, as if she somehow chose this day in particular to learn everything you kept under lock and key, she just had to ask that question.

Suddenly, talking about Zack and your parents felt like an amazing idea and a wonderful way to pass the time until you got to Susan's home. You raised an eyebrow, silently wondering if she really had to make you bare your soul to her sister as well? You liked Sam, you really, genuinely did, but not to the point of wanting to just spill everything to her. Maybe eventually, if she decided to stick around and you got close, but not now.

And then there was the fact that she did, in fact, abandon Tara. Now, you weren’t in any position to criticize her for leaving, you knew Christina Carpenter, anyone would want to get as far from that woman as possible. You, yourself, wanted to take Tara away from that place the moment she turned eighteen. So, no, you didn’t blame Sam for leaving, you blamed her for leaving Tara, because she could and should have stayed in contact with Tara, and not just vanish without a trace. But she came back, and was ready to fight to protect Tara, so that was enough for Sam to go back to the list of people you liked.

Immediately, another thought popped into your head, and you realized Sam being there was a blessing in disguise. Tara asked you a direct question and if there was one rule you lived by it was that a direct question needed to be answered and answered honestly. Knowing what the answer was and knowing how Tara was going to react you figured having Sam there would be beneficial. At least, with Sam hearing it from you, it would avoid Tara needing to talk to someone other than you about it and then awkwardly explaining the issue without revealing what you told her.

"I nearly killed myself," Tara froze, Sam nearly got all three of you killed with how abruptly she hit the brakes in the middle of the road, you barely kept you and Tara on the back seat. Luckily you hadn’t reached the highway yet so the car behind you had enough time to stop. "Sam, please, if I have to die in my own car, at least let me be behind the wheel," you groaned, delaying the moment you would have to look Tara in the eyes as the driver that was behind you furiously flipped you off. For once you figured it was a well-deserved middle finger.

You finally glanced down. Tara looked heartbroken, it was the only word that could describe the look on her face. "What?" you hated how choked her voice sounded. So, you spoke. You told the story.

There was no way you could ever forget that day. You dreaded the potential of that day ever coming up in a conversation with Tara, yet here you were. All because you couldn't keep your mouth shut. 'Now deal with the consequences,' was all you could think.

~X~

It's been half a year since you made an agreement with your parents. The moment you turned eighteen you'd leave the damn place and never see them again. You'd stop arguing, you'd play the role of their daughter in their sick facade of a perfect little family. They, in turn, would have no say in anything you were doing as long as it didn't tarnish their reputation.

So, now, with fighting off the table all that remained was silence. Silence at home. Silence at school, because Woodsboro wasn’t exactly welcoming to newcomers and not a lot of people accepted your love for MMA and the way it shaped your body. And while your training and skill in martial arts protected you from bullying, most people didn’t want to associate with you. Silence. Silence. Everything was silent. The only one filling the silence was Tara and to an extent her friend group, but you weren't part of that group. You were Tara's slightly older friend.

They messed you up. Your parents, that is. And now here you were. Lying on your bed. The phone was on do not disturb. And you looked to your right.

To the gun on your pillow.

Thousands of thoughts and questions plagued your mind, yet not a single one became coherent enough to latch on to it. To maybe get you to put the gun back in your parents' room. To forget it existed and keep going.

You sat up.

Why do it? A small part of you wondered. A much larger part responded with another question. Why not?

You reached out and placed your hand on the gun.

Silence ends with a bang. The emptiness will be filled. Everything begins and ends in a single moment.

And then, just as you placed your finger on the trigger, The Babadook theme began playing. Startled, you nearly dropped the gun, but somehow you managed to safely put it away and, albeit with shaky hands, managed to pick your phone up and answer. "How's it going Snuggle Tar-Bear," you hated how out of breath you sounded.

"Awful, mom won't be home for a couple of days and I'm so bored," Tara's voice was a reminder of what you almost did. How did it get to this point? "Wanna sleep at my place tonight? I promise I won't make you watch The Babadook again."

You weren't sure how long you didn't speak, but when you did you somehow managed to sound normal, like you weren't about to put a bullet through your head. You felt the need to throw up as you kept the conversation going. You had to end it, you had to... you didn't know what you had to do.

The call ended and you dropped down on your bed, biting the pillow to keep any sounds from coming out. The fuck was going on with that timing? You somehow managed to set an alarm to go off in half an hour and just closed your eyes.

Your head was empty, your heart beating rapidly as your eyes landed on the gun. Were you really about to do it? Just pull the trigger? What would that solve?

You barely felt the time pass when the alarm rang and you got up, you got up while letting it ring in the background. You changed your clothes, picked up the necessary things for the sleepover, and finally turned the alarm off. You forgot to put the gun back. You were still in a daze when you reached Tara's home. You were still in a daze when she opened the doors. You only snapped out of it when she touched your cheek.

"I'm here, I'm okay," somehow your brain managed to connect the concern in her eyes and the question you barely heard. You stepped inside and picked her up, and it felt like the pieces of the puzzle you didn't even know you were trying to piece together were getting put in all the right places all at once.

You wondered why not an hour ago and as Tara, the same Tara who was already left behind by her father and by Sam, who already had to deal with an alcoholic mother, wrapped her arms around your neck and held on as if you'd leave her too, you had your answer. You had your why not. So, you didn't let go as quickly as you usually would. You held on just a bit longer, letting Tara ground you, letting her effortlessly keep you by her side. "Thanks for calling, I'm sorry you had to," for the moment the daze was gone, and you let her pull you inside, and when the theme song that stopped you from pulling the trigger played in the background of the movie began, you pulled Tara a bit closer. Tara looked up and you just smiled, silently telling her to keep watching. She raised an eyebrow at that but complied, though you did notice she held onto you a bit tighter than before.

Back then she occasionally fell asleep in your arms, but you didn't sleep in her bed. No, that only began happening shortly after Tara turned sixteen. So that night, the moment Tara went to sleep, and you were left on your own, it all just came back. Or you came back to it as if pulled back by an invisible chain. You didn't know. It didn't matter. You were being pulled back into that vortex of desperation.

You were naive. You thought finding your why not would end those thoughts. You thought it would solve everything. It didn't.

It just gave you a reason to cling on and stay alive. So, you did just that. One day at a time.

When you came back home you didn't find the gun in your room and when you went to the kitchen to get something to eat the silence was broken for the first time in almost two months. "Buy your own if you want to do it," yeah, loving parents.

~X~

"It was a struggle for a while. I'd think I was getting better, then I'd relapse back into those thoughts. One day I'd be fine, the next I'd be punching my way through the day just to stop thinking. Still, it got better over time, and," you paused, taking in the expression on Tara's face, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she kept holding onto you. "...most importantly, I never, ever, picked up the gun, or anything that could kill me, again. Never with that intention."

"Why did you never tell me?" Tara's voice was weak, small, the fingers of her right hand gingerly caressing the back of your neck. "Why did I never notice?" she sounded furious, angry at herself over not noticing sooner.

"Tara, you were already doing everything you could even without knowing about it. I'd gain nothing by telling you and you'd worry and stress about it," also saying something would mean you'd have to talk about Zack as well, and you weren't ready to talk about him now, let alone four years ago.

"For over four years. I didn't notice anything for over four years!" she was shaking now. As you feared, all of this was too much for her right now.

"Tara, please stay calm!" you could see Sam struggling not to turn around. "I get how you feel, but please stay calm. Y/N is alive. She's doing better now. You've been with her, right? You were kids, that was as much as anyone could have asked of you."

"I wasn't there. For the last three months, I wasn't there," and in those three months, you were feeling lost. Her eyes met yours and you could see the turmoil she was feeling. Her eyes were always the most expressive eyes you had ever seen. "I left you to deal with it alone. I aba-" for the first time since you've known Tara you placed your hand over her mouth. She could say anything else, but never what she was about to say.

"Don't even think that," you warned. "Never think that," you couldn't let her go there, to let those thoughts consume her. "You couldn't know," slowly you moved your hand from her mouth and gently brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear.

"I should have known."

"I didn't let you."

She wasn't quite as calm as you or Sam would have liked her to be, and you could see the turmoil in her eyes, you could feel it in her grip, in her refusal to let you go. She had the same expression she had earlier in the hospital, while she was desperately trying to put pressure on your wound. That got you thinking and without considering the idea for more than a few seconds, without considering her relationship with Amber you leaned in and kissed her left cheek.

You gave Tara plenty of time to react, to say something, or do anything to even imply you crossed a line. She didn't, instead, she let out a shaky breath. "Y/N," there was something different in the way she whispered your name.

"I'm here, Tara. I'm not going to leave you. I'll be in your life for as long as you want me to be," you whispered soft reassurances hoping it would calm her down.

"For the rest of my life then," Tara said with certainty that made you think your heart skipped a beat or two. It definitely began beating faster and you could only nod, not really trusting your voice to stay on your side if the conversation continued.

You'd have to pretend you didn't notice Sam glancing back at the two of you and giving you a 'You're dead if you hurt her' stare when you stopped at a traffic light.

You were fine with that, after all, you’d never hurt Tara. You loved her enough to go through anything, to fight anyone, to face whatever consequences, to give up on something and create something, Even more now that she nearly died, now that you nearly lost her you were not going to let anyone get between you two. As long as Tara wanted you by her side, you’d stay right there.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader

[fushipurro]

In the Shadows of Love

Chapter 6 - Vega

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☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, heavy angst, depression, suicidal ideation, implied/reference ED, mentions of blood (nosebleed), emotional hurt/comfort, insecure/intrusive thoughts

☆ Word Count: 7.8k

After your little “diner date” as Shoko and the gang started calling it, you found yourself hanging out with Toji more often than not, much to your surprise. You had your worries that the opposite would occur during said “date”, but it appears now to have brought you closer together.

Meals between the three of you ─ Megumi included of course ─ became a common occurrence, along with shared trips to the store. With winter settling in now, Toji stated he felt more comfortable with having you in his car instead of letting you carry bags home in the snow.

“Don’t need you freezin’ to death out here,” he’d say in an effort to convince you.

Other times, he would invite you over so Megumi could share some quality time with you to make up for all the times it’s just you and his dad. And who are you to deny the sweet boy?

Tonight is one of those nights.

The day began (early afternoon for you) with some games before dinner, enjoying said meal in front of the TV while watching a movie together. Megumi loves anything that features talking animals, so you thought it best to put on Kung Fu Panda, to which he fell in love. Hard.

He tired himself out trying to replicate all the moves, leading to Toji having to carry him off to his room to sleep. Turns out in this one-bedroom apartment, the two share the same king-sized bed. Toji had said before to you that because he’s out all night working, Megumi has the bed all to himself and vice versa during the day. He even took Megumi into consideration as far as bedroom décor went, stating his only preference is the happiness of his son, even if that means his sheets have dinosaur print all over them.

“Kid’s finally asleep,” Toji tells you upon his return, sinking back down into his spot on the couch with a thump. He laughs with a simpering expression, “Now we can watch something with a little more excitement for two adults.” His eyes fall on you from the side.

You jokingly gasp. “How can you say that movie wasn’t fun?” You place your hand over your heart to exaggerate the feeling of shock. “I’m telling you now, he’s going to be doing kung fu all week and have you in the Wuxi finger hold.”

“I can fight better,” he snorts, and you giggle. “I bet I could give any dragon warrior a run for their money.” Toji raises the sleeve of his ivory-colored sweater upwards. The veins and muscles bulge as he flexes with that same annoying grin stretched across his face looking for your approval.

“Okay, Tai Lung,” you tease, your voice coy sounding. “Whatever you say.” Your eyes roll away from him and back to the TV.

Toji laughs, snagging the remote before you can even think about it. “Just for that, I’m picking the next one,” he declares.

He pans through the options, debating what might be a good choice. He has a few ideas, but his primary goal like always is to get a reaction out of you. So, when he lands on a classic you know and love, he wastes no time putting it on.

Bride of Chucky.

“Perfect.” The words roll out like a purr. Or maybe a warning growl? Either way, he puts the remote down, leaning back against the couch and draping his arm over the back.

The movie picks up right away with an introduction to the main characters as you remember quite well. Rob Zombie’s “Living Dead Girl” playing while the one and only Tiffany Valentine makes off after the first kill of the movie.

Toji had thought the combination of blood and murderous dolls would have you leaning into him for protection, but to his surprise ─ and disappointment ─ you don’t. The most he gets out of you so far is a recoil during the first murder committed by Chucky himself.

“That’s what gets a reaction out of you?” His question comes out with a pout he doesn’t even hide.

You laugh through your nose, “Hey, the stabbings are one thing, but piercings getting ripped out?” You shudder. “No thank you.”

“Not even a little afraid of some creepy ass doll running around, killing people with a knife…” He goes silent for a minute as the bathtub scene occurs. “Or…a TV?”

“If we’re talking about Slappy from Goosebumps, then yeah,” you huff. “That guy was nightmare fuel for me, but Chucky I can enjoy.” You reach out for some popcorn, ever so quietly humming to “Call Me” by Blondie as it plays.

Toji takes his own handful before speaking, “You’re one odd girl, I’ll give you that.”

It’s funny the things that can affect you. Meeting new people turns you into a stuttering mess, yet you watch horror movies without a care in the world. As if the blood and guts doesn’t do anything to you unlike the words or actions of others do.

To others, you’re that of an iceberg. The image of you that others see is only a mere glimpse with the rest hiding below the surface. All it takes to reveal that side of you is time to warm up, something Toji is finally starting to see as you grow comfortable with him in your presence. No alcohol needed.

Throughout the rest of the movie, even if you weren’t clinging to him in order to shield your eyes, he still had his ways of keeping the distance close. There’s the brushing of fingers reaching for popcorn that seemed like more than accidents or the arm he has resting behind you this entire time for you to lean your head against.

It's like the awkward theater date you never had as a teen, except you’re the only one feeling awkward about it now. But at the same time, it’s endearing because you’re going through this milestone event in your life.

Except… you still aren’t aware if he’s single or not.

All signs point to yes since you’ve never once heard of another woman, or Megumi even talking about a mother. But she could just not live here, or they’re going through something, or she’s working abroad. The fact is, until you mount the courage to ask, or he tells you, you don’t know.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping he’s single. You’re enjoying this too much to think about this crush of yours falling apart.

Toji is sweet as could be and he makes you laugh every time you’re together. He continues to treat you and while you can’t return the favor financially, you’ve been trying with the little things like bringing baked goods over with the excuse that you made too many to cover up your nerves.

It's all you could ever hope to have with a friend or even a significant other, even if all it must be is platonic. It’s something you haven’t had in a long time, and one thing you don’t want to ruin by desiring more.

The movie ends and Toji stands up to stretch, collecting the leftover dishes to clean. You take a few, following him into the kitchen area.

“I would say let’s watch another, but I can’t be late for work tonight,” he groans, and you swear you can hear him pouting even with his back facing you.

“There’s always another night,” you reassure.

“I think we should just start the kid now with the good stuff.” His head turns in your direction flashing a mischeavous grin. “What do you think about watching Alien next time?”

“And scar him for the rest of his life over the spaghetti scene?” you reply with a sarcastic tone. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Hey, I saw much worse at an earlier age and look how I turned out.” He raises both his hands and shrugs all nice and proud.

“And it’s a miracle you’re sane.” He rolls his eyes with a laugh. “I vote that we watch Finding Nemo next time. I’m sure he’d love that one especially with how similar one of the characters is to you.”

He looks to you dumbfounded. “In what way could I possibly resemble a fish?” he says with disbelief lacing his words.

You giggle, “Personality for one; Gill is tough, smart, and cares a lot almost like a dad.” You extend your hand, gesturing to the man. “And two, you share similar features, like the color black, how you glare at others, scowl, even having a facial scar.”

You bite your tongue, eyes widening at what you just said. Another piece of info Toji hasn’t told you about yet is how he even got the scar on his lip. You know more than anyone that it may not be the easiest thing to talk about, mainly if there’s trauma tied to it versus something mundane like getting cut by a sticker bush.

It doesn’t help that he’s facing away from you so you’re unable to read his current expression. “I’m sorry, I–“

“You think I’m all that, huh?” He interrupts with a huff, appearing unbothered. “Bet I’m tougher than any fish in the sea,” he tells you again, with another flex of both his arms this time around.

You sigh in relief, “What about an orca?” you ask, and he flashes you a toothy smile.

“Now that’s a better comparison for someone like me over some stinkin’ fish.”

You both laugh and continue to chat for a little while longer. While Toji is cleaning the dishware, you’re occupying yourself with Megumi’s toys, helping to tidy up. When all is said and done, he walks you out, hanging back in the threshold of his home and the hallway.

“I’ll see you later then, hope you have an easy time at work.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. Try not to have any nightmares later.” He winks, and you laugh.

“If I do, then I know who to blame,” you scoff. “Goodnight, Toji.”

“Sleep tight, and don’t let the cursed dolls bite.” You roll your eyes, calmy walking into your home. Once inside, you’re anything but calm. You practically skip your way over to your couch, throwing yourself onto the cushions to pet Tsumiki.

Sweetheart.

He calls you that from time to time, and the butterflies you feel are something else. It takes a few breaths to relax from such giddy feelings. It’s been far too long since you had someone like Toji in your life, and you crave this kind of attention. This closeness. For the first time in what’s most likely been years, you feel as though nothing could possibly go wrong.

You eventually pick up your phone that you haven’t bothered to look at in the hours spent next-door, and there were several notifications to greet you.

The first dozen were some cheers from work, namely from Kento regarding the publication of the magazine you modeled for.

The second bunch were the obligatory Instagram mentions, the most important being the one from Satoru’s post alongside a series of his choice photos from that day with you.

That’s when you remember things can and will go wrong, as the third set are all various notifications of strangers blowing up your account. The majority falls under Satoru’s post, a bunch of his followers spitting venom your way to target you.

Who’s this nobody he’s with?

Can she get any closer to him? I bet she’s just using him for clout

Must’ve been torture for him :( she’s not even that pretty lmao

Would look so much better with only Satoru.

You want to look away, you really do. You’d love nothing more than to shut your phone off and throw it at the wall, but you can’t bring yourself to do it.

It’s nothing new for you to be hated on like this. The sad reality is that it’s to be expected, no thanks to the anonymity of the internet. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

They’re jealous.

You know that.

Just obsessed fans taking out their anger on you because they wish it was them at his side.

You know that too, but it doesn’t stop the dark cloud that hangs over you wherever you go.

Why don’t you just stay in your lane? Be a flower on the wall?

You should’ve turned the project down, given it to someone else. You don’t deserve the recognition it brings.

This is your fault, you know. You should’ve listened to your parents when they said you weren’t going to succeed in life.

You sit up properly on the couch, tucking your knees to your chest. For a while, all you can bring yourself to do is stare blankly at the screen, watching all the new messages come through every passing minute. It’s a given, considering Satoru’s astonishingly high following. It isn’t until your phone shuts down from a low battery that you throw it aside and fall to your side, letting the tears come cascading down.

You wake up later, still lying on your side with a damp feeling against your face. The light that comes through your apartment is soft, no doubt earlier in the day compared to when you normally choose to wake up. Begrudgingly, you push yourself off the couch, listening to every creak your bones make like dated wood.

The first thing you do is plug your phone in to charge, followed by feeding Tsumiki her breakfast. You ponder whether you want anything, but even if your stomach was growling, you don’t feel all that deserving to eat. Not only does your depression take away your appetite at times, but it also puts a strain on the relationship you have with food and other things pertaining to your day-to-day life.

A shower helps. At least there you can attempt to drown out your thoughts with the water that rains down. Even when physically after you’re clean and smell nice, you still don’t feel all that great. Against your better judgement, you go to see how things were looking today on your phone.

The answer?

Worse.

More of the same shit fills your feed, but with the added bonus now of threats and other hate in your DMs, and all over your own posts that had nothing to do with the magazine. All are a courtesy from the people with nothing better to do than wish harm upon you for breathing the same air as their celebrity crush.

Speaking of, there’s a new message from him.

Satoru Gojoheyyy so sugu, sho, and I are going out to star plasma later to celebrate, you wanna meet up???

You Sorry, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on :( hope you guys have fun though!

Satoru Gojo boooo :( well if you change your mind, we’ll be there <3

You wonder if he’s seen the same hate you have, or maybe he’s just that good at ignoring it for his own sanity. That, or maybe he just doesn’t care what they’re saying. Not everyone is like you.

Oh, how you wish you could be like that. You also wish you didn’t feel the need to lie to him about having work. The thought of the gang seeing you in this state fills you with disgust, not to mention if Toji’s working tonight.

You place your phone back down on your nightstand, eyes drifting across to your bed. Most of the time, it’s the only place you want to be in, all wrapped up nice and tight under lays of blankets.

Other times it feels like a prison.

All the fabric acting like chains, keeping you bound to your mattress with no hope to escape. It’s during these times that everything outside the walls of your apartment frighten you to no end. And like always, you give in to the call of your damnation.

Sinking down into the cold sheets, you stare now up at the blank, white ceiling. The various scuffs and spots act like sheep for you to count as you make a mental note to clean them later. That will have to wait for a day you feel capable. A day you feel better if that day ever comes before it’s too late.

Why does it seem so easy for others to ignore all the drama of life and intrusive thoughts? They make it sound so easy, that being a normal, functional being is easy but here you are, wallowing in your own misery. You long to feel happy in life rather than the sorrow you feel now.

But will that ever happen?

A few unremarkable days have gone by since then, and you still bear no signs of feeling better.

You’ve stopped crying now, but the emptiness took over. Somehow you manage to get out of bed, only to mindlessly complete your work and anything else you have to do. Tsumiki’s been hanging close-by, as if she senses how distraught you are. Her meows and cuddles are the only thing bringing a ghost of a smile to your face as you shut out the rest of the world.

Food has been minimal, most of it not even having a taste when it hits your tongue. Your appetite is lacking either for anything more than a few bites. All in all, you’re just passing time until you can fall asleep, letting time go by that you later hate yourself for missing.

Depression is an awful cycle.

Today you decided you needed to head to the store. You tell yourself it’s to get Tsumiki more food or toys for putting up with you, but the truth is that your fridge is looking scarce. Your meals have mainly consisted of whatever is easy to make, jokingly referring to it as “girl dinners” to try and make yourself laugh.

You don’t put much thought into your outfit, choosing to wear something easy to keep you warm in this December month. Sometimes it’s nice to try and look pretty to help your confidence and all, but right now you’d rather hide under bulky fabrics. There doesn’t feel like much of a point to care, either way. What does it matter?

It's a quick trip in the end, only coming back with a few bags. You keep your eyes low to the ground, counting the concrete tiles to keep your mind at bay. It works, up until you notice your neighbor hunched over an idled car out front of your building.

Something’s off, you notice, and it makes the hairs stand straight up on your neck.

Never once have you seen Toji express an emotion like the one you’re seeing ─ the death stare he’s giving whoever is sitting in the car. For someone so typically calm, this apparent anger is so much scarier than any cursed doll could hope to achieve.

Who is he talking to?

You want to know, but at the same time you don’t if they’re upsetting Toji this much. Your breathing stills as you walk by, hoping to slip into the front door without being noticed. You make it as far as a few steps up before you’re stopped short from a voice.

“Hey.”

Your body tenses up. You’ve been avoiding contact with anyone outside of work for a few days, and you especially don’t want to be near whatever was going on outside just moments ago. He doesn’t need to be burdened by you.

“Hey, Toji.” You turn your head slowly to the man, weakly smiling.

He makes a few steps up to where you are, a silent urge to continue heading up to your floor together. The fire you previously saw raging in his eyes no longer appears present, instead replaced with his normal scowl.

“I saw your friends the other night at the bar, was hoping you’d be with ‘em.”

You exhale quietly, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, I– wasn’t feeling it that day,” you mutter.

Toji’s eyes narrow with furrowed brows to match but he continues with your pace.

“I’ve got some time before my shift if you wanted to watch that fish movie or somethin’ else,” he asks. You bite your lip as you think of your response.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.” You go silent for a moment, save for the tapping of shoes against the tiled floor. “Some other night?”

He raises his hand sheepishly to his neck. “Yeah, no problem,” he says with the hint of disappointment in his words.

Fuck, you don’t want to hurt him. Especially with another lie to someone close to you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, turning the key in your front door. “See you later.”

“See yo–“ The door shuts before Toji can even finish responding.

The guilt settles in like a knife to your heart. Enough so that you slide your back down the door to sit with your head between your knees.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Disgust drips off your words.

Tsumiki comes right up to you purring away. For several minutes, you remain there on the ground petting her before finally getting up to put the groceries away. Shortly after, you return to your bed, indulging yourself with some good old blue-light exposure therapy. Tsumiki joins you, bringing in one of the new toys you bought for her.

Later, a soft knocking startles you from your sleep, not even realizing you had fallen asleep in the first place. The time on your phone shows that it’s after midnight, so who in their right mind needs you at this hour?

Cautiously, you approach the door, peering through to the peephole only to reveal…no one?

Huh, wrong house?

You turn away from the door, only for there to be another knock, but still nothing through the peephole. You end up opening the door without even thinking, and now you realize why you couldn’t see anything.

“Megumi?” He stands there teary-eyed, clutching his frog plush tightly in his arms. “What’s wrong, did something happen?” you ask with a gentle voice.

“I had a bad dream.” He sniffles, his lip starting to quiver with oncoming sobs.

“Come here, ‘Gumi.” You take him into your arms, lifting him up, and closing the door behind you as you take him to the couch. With one hand, you rub soft shapes over his back as you sit him down with you. “There, there,” you coo.

Megumi holds on to you tightly like a baby koala. There’s a damp feeling sticking to your chest from the tears falling from his eyes. In this moment, you put aside whatever troubles you might have. He needs you right now.

You give him a minute to relax and calm down, waiting to ask, “Do you want to talk about it?” But he shakes his head in response. “That’s alright, you don’t have to,” you tell him softly, further adding, “I’m right here with you, you’re safe now.”

Toji must be at work for Megumi to have come knocking, so you pull up his number on your phone, texting to let him know about the situation.

“Hey, ‘Gumi? You want to try going back to sleep?” He whines into your shirt, doing everything he can with his tiny hands to stay fixed to you.

“Don’t leave me, please…” He sniffles, and your heart breaks. There are those words again, you think, remembering the time in the bathroom with him once before.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassure.

You give him some time to calm down, humming a familiar lullaby to whisk him away to sleep. He grumbles when you place him down into your bed, the spot still warm from your earlier rest, but he finds that he can’t fight his heavy eyelids. Between your song and the fingers running through his hair, he has no choice but to fall asleep once again.

“Ma..ma…” he murmurs, and you feel a tear fall from your eye.

Tsumiki joins you now, curling right up to Megumi’s side like the comforting angel she is. You send another message to Toji to let him know he’s still with you, to which he replies that he’ll be right over after his shift ends.

So much for avoiding contact with others, but it’s for Megumi’s sake right now.

It feels like déjà vu the next time you hear the knocking at your front door.

“Hey Toji,” you greet, parting the door for him to enter. He looks around with a confused look at first. He’s thrown off by the lack of lit candles, ambient light, or anything else. Instead, it’s just you, illuminated only by the moonlight peeking through the apartment.

“Did I wake you?” he asks, meeting your eyes. It’s a good thing it’s dark, so he hopefully can’t see the evidence of your tears.

“No, I haven’t slept yet,” you admit, and it only serves to puzzle him further. There’s a lot he wants to ask, but you’re already motioning towards your bedroom. He sighs, moving to catch up with you.

“He looks right at home,” Toji remarks, brushing Megumi’s hair back to better see his face. He gives Tsumiki some attention, careful not to disturb his son’s sleep in the process. Once Megumi is up into his arms, the two of you head back towards your door. He stops, turning to look you in the eyes again. “Thanks for watching him.” He doesn’t move from his spot, though his brows begin to furrow in thought. “About earlier…is everything okay? Did I do something to upset you?”

You feel your stomach dropping. The guilt you felt earlier comes crawling back up with razor-sharp claws. “Oh. No, no ─ I’m…sorry about that,” you stammer out, feeling your chest tighten. “You didn’t do anything, I promise.”

“What’s up then, you’ve been actin’ weir–“ Megumi interrupts with some slight stirring in his sleep from Toji’s raised voice.

“I’m okay, Toji. Really,” you try and convince, despite feeling the exact opposite. Another lie that stains your soul, but you remind yourself that it’s not his problem. You’re not his burden to bear.

You’re not sure if even bought it, especially after the noncommittal grunt he makes with eyes that stare intently, as if peering into your soul despite the darkness.

“Alright,” he says after a minute, his voice noticeably calmer, but still unsure. “If there is something, you can talk to me, okay?”

“I will, thanks.” You open the door to let him out. “Goodnight.”

His head dips to you before the door shuts completely. “Goodnight,” he replies, with your name punctuating.

For some reason it hurts to hear your actual name for once instead of a pet name.

With your apartment empty once again, it feels colder than ever. Lately you’ve been feeling that way a lot. It’s only when Toji is there that your house truly feels like a home.

You meander your way back into bed, curling up into a ball facing the window. You can’t shake the cold you’re feeling, no matter the number of blankets overtop your body. Even the dimly lit skies seem to relate with you.

When was the last time you could see the stars shining so beautifully?

There was a time you yourself felt like a bright star once, one that floated easily through the cold expanse of the universe without any issue. Unlike the other stars that met their fate, there was no spectacular supernova at the end of it all. No rainbow plumes of stardust to vividly show all of existence how good of a life you’ve lived.

It was more like a flip of a switch when it came to you. Shining one day like normal and the next, a bleak void of what you once were, absent of any light.

You roll away to face the wall opposite of your room, moving your hands to clasp either shoulder in a self-embrace.

I miss the warmth.

You wake up alone for once, with Tsumiki nowhere to be found from where you lay. It’s nothing you worry about quite yet, as you figure she’s out in the living room watching birds. You get up to investigate, but to your dismay, she isn’t out there either.

You don’t see her anywhere.

Strange, you think. Maybe she’ll come out for breakfast…?

You try that next. Heading to the kitchen to prepare her usual pampered meal, making noise as you call for her.

“Tsumi!” you croon, adding a pspsps after, but again, nothing.

There’s no way she could’ve gotten out of the house, so she must be around here somewhere. Your heart beats a mile a minute as you’re scouring in and around every piece of furniture you have looking for her. Eventually, you do find her, all tucked away inside your closet on a pile of your clothes.

“There you are!” you exhale in relief. “Do you know how worried I was?” you coo. You then move to pick her up and she doesn’t protest, but she also doesn’t start purring or mewling either.

You bring her out the kitchen, placing her down with her bowl. Your heart sinks again when she sniffs the dish and ultimately turns her nose up.

Tears weld up at the edge of your eyes. “Fuck, Tsumi’, don’t do this to me.” You start to pace, chewing anxiously on your lip as you watch her huddle up in another corner of your apartment. “What’s the matter, baby?”

Fuck, fuck, what do I do?

Searching the internet is your first idea, but the results are anything but helpful. Half the results are akin to that of WebMD (read: you’re already dead). By this point, you’re hysterical now, fixing to hyperventilate as the last bit of control you have slips away.

Of all the times for something like this to happen, it has to happen to Tsumiki. You’d give anything to swap places because you love her more than life itself. But when it rains, it pours, and right now it feels like a hurricane is hanging overhead.

She needs a vet, but you can’t possibly run with her across town. Waiting for a taxi will only prolong whatever she’s suffering from. Fuck, if only you could afford your own car, this wouldn’t be an issue!

But then you remember one thing.

Toji has a car.

Toji.

With no time to waste, you sprint out the door of your apartment, frantically knocking on his all while desperately hoping he’s even home to answer. Your prayers are answered when the door opens, revealing the man himself, half-asleep and shirtless.

“Toji, I-I-I–“ your voice cracks between sobs.

“Woah, woah, slow down,” he interrupts, placing his hands on both ends of your shoulders. He lowers his head to your level. Seeing you in distress snaps him awake. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Tsumiki ─ I-I don’t know, I think she’s sick!” you stammer out, “I need to get her to a vet but–“

“Go get her; I’ll get my keys.” His voice is calm as he tries to reassure you, bringing his thumb up your cheek, wiping away a tear with the rough padding of his thumb. “Breathe, okay?” You nod, but you’re still trembling.

Toji releases his hands from you, allowing you to run back inside to grab Tsumiki. You place her gently into her transport while at the same time, Toji enters your apartment, taking the crate from your unsteady hands.

The two of you exit the building as quickly as you can, letting Toji settle her into the backseat while you situate yourself right there at her side, cooing to ease your baby’s scared hollers. Toji wastes no time pulling out on the main road for the directions you gave him, putting on his seatbelt as he went.

From time to time, he looks back at you through the mirror, seeing you hunched over in tears over the crate. You’re trying to be calm for her, you really are, but it’s so hard.

You arrive in record time at the emergency clinic, Toji once again carrying the crate inside the building while you briskly make your way to the receptionist. You tell them your name, and everything else they need to know while they work on all the check-in procedures, eventually handing you a clipboard and pen to fill out with further information to fill out.

Toji guides you with a steady hand to the waiting area which includes several benches and tables to take advantage of. He places Tsumiki’s crate on a spot directly in front of you, pulling you down to sit instead of letting you pace the room. Both your legs and hands are shaking uncontrollably with fear, teardrops dotting the paper and ink as you try to write out what they need.

“Hey.” Toji cups your dominant hand with his own, bringing the movement to a standstill. “Breathe,” he calmly requests. “I know it’s tough, but you gotta try and relax for Tsumiki. You aren’t gonna be helpful to her if you suddenly drop over,” he tells you, and he’s right.

“I can’t let anything happen to her,” you mutter with a hoarse voice. You lean forward in your seat, moving your hands to the back of your head.

Toji slings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him. “I know.” His words are low, only for you to hear as he speaks into your ear.

“I don’t know what I’d do if something h-happened to her, she’s–“ A hiccup interrupts you. “she’s all I have left. Without her, I…I can’t.”

Toji takes the clipboard from you, putting it next to Tsumiki so he can fully embrace you with both arms. Your head is pulled against his chest and the fabric of his shirt helps to muffle your shattering heart.

“That’s not true,” he begins, his tone of voice calm, but equally stern, “You have me, Megs, those other three friends, even that boss of yours. You said it all yourself to me.” He pauses, bringing his hand up through your hair. His grip is tight yet offers indescribable comfort. The bottom of his jaw settles on the crown of your head. “You are not alone. Not anymore,” he promises.

If you could put a pin on when you start to fall in love in with someone, this would be one of those moments. Even if all he’s doing is reassuring you as any good friend would, it means the world to you and more. A moment in time you’ll never forget for as long as you live.

“Toji, I–“ You lift your head from his chest, taking one sniffle before you catch that metallic scent. You move fast to clutch your nose, but it’s too late. “Shit!” you hiss.

Toji leans back to see what happened. His eyes widen upon seeing the blood trickling down the palm of your hand, hitting his shirt in the process. Thankfully, there’s plenty of tissues given the environment, so he grabs a handful to hold under your nose.

“Fuck,” you cry out, “I’m so sorry, Toji.”

“Don’t be,” he huffs with some underlying amusement. “A bit of blood is nothing, I couldn’t care less.” You swap places with his hand holding the tissues. “Are you okay?” he asks, helping to clean the area around your hand.

“I’m sorry, Toji,” you mumble, lowering your head. “I’m such a mess right now, I don’t mean to burden you.”

“Don’t say that,” he replies, resting his palm on the apex of your head, teasing your hair in the process like he does to Megumi. “You have nothing to be sorry for, and you’re not a burden. Let your ‘knight in shining armor’ be here for you.” He winks.

His helpful teasing earns the hint of a smile on your face and a short-lived laugh, but it’s enough to begin to lighten the mood. At least until you hear a voice calling out your name.

You stand up, reaching out for Tsumiki’s carrier but then you hesitate. “Hey Toji?” He hums in acknowledgement. “Do you mind coming with me for this, please?”

He smiles. “Not at all, princess.”

When all is said and done, Toji drives you back home, walking you back up into your apartment. There, he places the carrier down gently, allowing Tsumiki to roam free.

“I feel, so stupid,” you sigh, kneeling down and hiding your face with your hands out of embarrassment. “All of that for a simple tummy ache.”

Toji chuckles, “Hey, it shows how much you love her. You can’t fault yourself there.”

You turn your head to look at him with a soft smile. “I’m sorry I took so much time out of your day.” Your mind flashes back to when he opened the door earlier in his sleeping form and you can feel the heat reawakening in your body. “I woke you up for it too,” you breathe out a laugh.

“What did I say about the apologies, princess?” He crouches down in front of you causing his denim jeans to bunch up. One of his knees bumps against yours given how close he is. “I’d like to know what else is bothering you though,” he suddenly inquires, and you feel the same guilt you felt the last time creep back up like bile in your throat.

Once again, you border on the crossroads of what to say. It’s a huge step to trust someone else enough to share your vulnerabilities ─ but if it’s Toji… maybe you can? You did it before and it worked out better than expected.

You remain quiet as you stand from your spot, moving towards the couch. While you’re busy pulling your phone out, he rises and makes his way over to your side.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he says, trying to meet your eyes. “But we’re friends. I want to help you if you’ll let me.”

It’s a lot coming from Toji.

You’ve learned over the course of knowing him that feelings don’t come easy. He does what he can, and what he feels is the best course of action. It’s a big reason as to why you struggle to pay him back for all his moments of kindness. You’ve come to realize that that’s how he best expresses himself, not only through teasing, but also through acts of service.

Being not only a bartender, but also more importantly a father, it’s forced him to open up more to others and to himself. To reflect on his own feelings and shortcomings so he can be better for Megumi. It’s not easy and he certainly doesn’t do all this effort for others, but for you, he will.

You pass him the device silently, pulling your knees to your chest. You let one knee rest against your cheek as you look his way, and at the same time you avoid eye contact. Toji’s expression softens, and there’s the slightest hint of red on his ears, but mainly there’s some confusion in his features.

“These are beautiful ─ you’re beautiful,” he tells you, looking back your way. “What’s the problem with ‘em?”

You want to smile. It’s hard not to let alone the blush trying to come alive. There’s just one issue.

“This,” you proclaim, scrolling down to expand the comment section with your finger. “This,” you repeat, “is the problem.” You wrap your arms around your legs, hugging them to you with an empty expression.

He looks back and his face immediately darkens into a scowl. “You know they’re just spewing shit out of their asses, right? Bunch of dumb fucks that don’t have anything better to do,” he grumbles, more curses following under his breath.

“They’re not all wrong though,” you let out a dry chuckle.

“No, uh uh.” He shakes his head, the words spilling out fast and like that of a growl, “Do not do that to yourself. Don’t think for a second this shit means anything.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it!” you exclaim, drawing out each word. Your fears have come alive as the dam breaks. The tears that fall from your eyes are hot and heavy, flooding down your cheeks. “Every single thing they say sticks with me, and I hear it all the time in my head!”

He moves to sit in front of you, placing one hand down on your knee. “You shouldn’t listen to anything on here,” he says more calmly this time, scrolling further down the post. “It’s all garbage, they’re garbage.”

“I wish I could, but I can’t,” you mumble, tightening your grip around yourself to the point your nails are digging into the fabric of your pants to reach your skin. “I hate it so much,” you drawl, “and I hate mys–“

“No.”

His tone makes you flinch, stopping you from continuing. The only noises shared between you two is that of the sobs you try and hold back to not make a sound. To not let another hear you sob.

“Look at me,” he almost whispers to you. “Please?” he insists when you don’t respond.

You eventually do, keeping half your face hidden beneath your forearms, but your eyes finally meet his own and you see the worry behind them.

“No matter what anyone says, you deserved to be on that magazine. Satoru didn’t make you the model you are, that was all you, do you understand?” He pauses, waiting for you to nod before he continues, “Listen to me when I tell you that you are beautiful. These assholes don’t mean shit, and even he agrees,” he finishes by handing you your phone back.

You’re puzzled until you see what Toji is referring to ─ a recent update on Satoru’s page where he expresses how disgusted he is by the comments. He goes on to bash the people spewing hate at someone he deems his friend and how you deserve none of it. The words bring more tears to your eyes, but not all of them are sourced from a well of sorrow this time around.

Toji goes on to say, “You should post your own pics too from that day. Be proud of yourself and the work you put in.”

You still can’t help but scoff, “Yeah, and give them more fuel? It’s bad enough they’re under all my other photos too.”

“So?” he scoffs back. “Fuck whatever they have to say. Remember what I told you.”

“Okay,” you sigh, wiping your tears. “I’ll do it.”

His lips upturn into a wolfish grin. “Good girl. Show ‘em who’s boss.” He pats your knee a few times before returning it to his side. “Now what do you say about ordering in some food? We can watch that fish thing too with Megs if you’re up for it.”

Your eyes widen, darting to the clock on your phone to see how late it is. “Oh my god, Megumi! I’m so sorry, is he–“

“Relax, he’s fine,” he states, appeasing your worries. “I had his sitter pick him up from school.”

“Oh, thank god,” you sigh again. “I was so caught up with my own shit, I completely forgot.”

“No harm done, so quit apologizing already,” he teases.

“I’m sorry ─ fuck, sorr–“ You clasp your hand over your mouth to shut yourself up. Toji gives you a blank stare with his mouth stretched in a fine line before your stomach breaks the silence with a loud growl. You hide yourself behind your legs from the humiliation, meanwhile Toji breaks out laughing.

Funny how the tables have turned.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” He stands up, pulling his phone out from his back pocket. “Speaking of the kid though, his birthday is coming up.” His hand meets the back of his neck. “It’d mean a lot to him if you’re there for it, we’re havin’ a small party.”

“I’d love to,” you reply with a bright smile ─ the first and most genuine one you’ve made in several days.

“Thanks.” He returns your smile. “I’ll go get the kid then and order your favorite, so get comfortable while I’m gone.”

As he leaves, you go back to some of the latest posts on your profile. To your surprise, a lot of the hate and threats you saw were no longer there. Even the threats in your DMs disappeared or their accounts suspended. You have a feeling Kento has something to do with this, to which you’ll have to thank him later.

You pan through the official photos from the shoot, choosing all your favorites. With a shaky hand, you remember Toji’s words and hit the button to upload your post. Moments later, a new message comes through from your group chat.

Satoru Gojo oi oi, you’re posting again! are you okay??? we miss you :(

You I’m okay now, I’m sorry for worrying you guys.

Suguru Geto Don’t be, you have every right to want your own space. We’re just happy to hear from you again.

Shoko Ieiri next time though you should tell us so we can help you feel better 💕

Satoru Gojo yeah^^^ I was this 🤏 close to getting that double D DILF you like to drive us to your place so we could see you

You oh my god, don’t even start

Satoru Gojo hehehe I can see you blushing through the screen >:3 Shoko Ieiri no need to deny the obvious :)

Suguru Geto I’m with them on this. :)

You wipe the happy tears off your face just in time for Megumi to come running in. He throws himself into you for a nice big hug, with Toji following closely behind.

“Food’s on its way, you feelin’ better?”

“Yeah.” You nod in response. “And thank you, Toji. I’m glad we’re friends,” you tell him with a sincere sounding voice.

“Me too, sweetheart.” He plops down next to you, pulling Megumi into his lap to bounce on his knee. “Now let’s get this movie going then so we can watch Alien later.” He gives you a devious grin.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, funny joke.”

“We’ll see about that,” he teases.

Megumi ends up thoroughly enjoying Finding Nemo, reciting Dory’s iconic line “just keep swimming” over and over to the amusement of you both. Toji on the other hand tries his best to deny the Gill allegations, but it proves to be an impossible battle once Megumi began to point it out and back you up on the claim.

After dinner, Tsumiki ends up joining you three on the couch as well, feeling better than ever now that she has the laps of three people to choose from for love. But between all the laughing and combined joy, you can safely say that in this moment, you feel a whole lot warmer than you did before.

☆ Notes: I will self-indulge myself with movie and song titles that I know and love unapologetically. It’s my way of giving recommendations in a self-insert fic where I try and make the reader as inclusive as I can within the realm of what I’m trying to achieve. jennifer tilly is my celebrity crush <3

also I don’t know about you all, but when I get super stressed out and cry, my nose starts bleeding like hell which is why I wanted to add that scene in specific to add to the depth of the reader's anxieties

revising this chapter makes me realize how much dialogue is hard to do for me. I get so stuck on whether or not I believe a character would actually say what I’m making them say, but then I try to remind myself that there’s some wildly outlandish stuff I’ve seen in other fics that’s still enjoyable to read even their personalities are crazy OOC. Hope that isn’t too much the case here, as soft!toji is something I really try to focus on given all the shit he’s been through.

Here's a fun toji edit by the way >:)

#jjk #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji zenin #toji x female reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #jjk au #toji x you #model!reader #megumi fushiguro #shoko ieiri #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento

[villainousshakespeare]

Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 2

Loki/OFC Rated M (may go up to E in future chapters) Trigger Warnings: Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics

Chapter 1

Loki’s plans to conquer and rule Midgard have come to a disastrous end. After being captured by the Avengers, he is being held on Earth. Odin has refused to interfere, and the outlook for the God of Mischief appear bleak. His only hope may lie in one mortal woman, a Psychiatric expert brought in to interrogate him.

Dr. Caroline Thorpe is intrigued by Loki and thinks that more lies beneath his actions than is commonly known. Can she find out the truth before he is shipped off to die for crimes against the Earth? And can Loki bring himself to care?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @mareebird @colorfulfreakstudentpizza  @szycha22 @chokemedaddyloki @queenofallhobos​ @just-the-hiddles-reads​  @alwida10

Taking a deep breath as she heard the door click back into place, Caroline tried to center herself again before beginning once more with her patient.

“Oh dear, I hope there are no problems, Doctor?” Loki asked, false concern coloring his voice.

“No, no problems,” Caroline smiled at him. “I learned how to deal with gun-toting bureaucrats long ago.”

“If you would like, I could deal with him for you,” the God suggested. “Simply be so good as to unlock my manacles and I will gladly make sure that particular problem is out of the way permanently.”

From a purely ethical perspective, Caroline had issues with a patient being chained during a session. I this instance, however, she had a strong suspicion that no amount of persuasion would convince the magical being seated before her to remain once the cuffs were removed. While it was not her preference to treat an unwilling patient, this particular one was so clearly in desperate need of her services that she was persuaded to make an exception.

“I hardly think interrupting our therapy session is a capital offense,” she said after a moment’s reflection.

“Therapy? Is that what this is supposed to be?”

“Of a sort,” she shrugged. “We can call it something else if the term offends you.”

“I merely find it humorous. After all, where I am headed the status of my emotions is like to matter little. And after that… well, I won’t have to deal with pesky emotions at all.”

“And will that be a relief for you?” she took a gamble, probing him a bit.

“Emotions are a weakness. The sooner you learn that dear doctor, the better you’ll be.”

“I think emotions can be our greatest strength. However, seeing everything you have been through in your long life, I can understand why you might have some hesitation about that.”

“And what could you possibly know about my life?” Loki scoffed.

“Well, you told me a bit about it,” she pointed out. “You were abandoned by your birth father, taken from your home, lied to by your adopted parents, overlooked in favor of an adored sibling, and to top it all off, you found out about your true nature in a horribly traumatic fashion. That’s enough to make anyone want to emotionally shut down. Either that or tumble off the deep end into emotional chaos.”

“Don’t make chaos sound so unappealing,” Loki said. “It can be quite liberating. And after all, I do rule over it as a God.”

“That’s right, you’re God of Chaos and Lies as well as Mischief.”

“I prefer to think of it as stories more than lies,” Loki said innocently. “Lies just sounds so naughty, doesn’t it? But then, maybe that’s part of the appeal.”

“Don’t try to distract me with semantics,” Caroline told him with a disarming smile, ignoring how appealing it was when he said the word. “We were talking about your reaction to the discovery of your true origins. I take it you embraced chaos.”

“It is my nature.”

“You sent the Destroyer, I think it’s called? To Earth to kill your brother.”

“Kill or be killed, what would you do?”

“Not commit fratricide, I hope. Did you really think Thor would kill you?”

“What was I meant to think?” Loki exploded. “All of our lives, he spoke of killing every last Jotun. He dreamed of it. Longed for it. Planned endlessly for the day when he could carry out those dreams as King. Why should I ever suspect that a weekend on this dreary planet would turn him into a simpering puppy where they were concerned? All because of a pair of big brown eyes.”

“You mean Jane Foster?”

“That woman. I had tried to reason with Thor for centuries. Pointed out the problematic nature of genocide, counseled restraint and diplomacy, and for centuries I was mocked for it. Then a pretty female makes the exact same arguments and suddenly Thor is a pacifist?”

“He had changed when he came back to Asgard.”

“In some ways. In others he was exactly the same as always. He had experienced this grand epiphany and was now a warrior for peace, and therefore everyone else must instantly and intuitively know that the world had reordered itself. A mere handful of days prior he had tried to bring about the end of the Jotunheim himself and considered it worthy of songs and celebrations. But when I attempted the same, attempted to show that my loyalty was and always would be to Asgard and our family, I was a criminal, interested in only death and destruction! I spent my life pushing back against Thor and Odin’s reflexive shows of brute force, and the moment I finally embraced the family way they changed it! Why should I be held to a standard different from the one they set all my life? How is that fair?”

Heaving himself off of the bench, Loki strode over to the side of his cell farthest from the watching guards and leaned his head on a forearm pressed to the glass. Caroline could see the rise and fall of his back as he struggled to get his emotions under control.

“It’s not,” she said simply.

“What?” the word was barely audible from where he stood.

“It’s not fair,” she said again.

“Careful doctor,” he warned, turning his head to look at her. “You contradict the great rulers of Asgard and the Nine Realms.”

“How fortunate for me then that I am not one of their subjects.”

“The AllFather may not see it that way.”

“Loki, I know it may sound blasphemous, but I really don’t care what Odin thinks, or Thor either. For the former, I have never met him, and from everything I have heard I am grateful for it. As for Thor… I have met him on a handful of occasions. He strikes me as carelessly kind, overly headstrong, and more than a touch egotistical. Not terribly dissimilar from several other enhanced people I have come across in my line of work. I have a casual linking for him, but I cannot imagine how irritating it would be to be his sibling. The only member of the Asgardian royal family I am interested in right now is you.”

“Why Caroline,” Loki purred, turning with a predatory gleam and sauntering deliberately over to the table where she sat, “why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

***

She was good, he had to give her that. Most of the mortals Loki had met since arriving on Earth would have shrunk back visibly with him looming over them, manacles of no. He was considerably tall by their standards, and he had learned several hundred years ago how to use his presence to his advantage. Instead of flinching away from him, Dr. Thorpe just directed a quizzical look up at him, as though trying to decipher what secret his new tactic was hiding. Only the pulse he could see beating rapidly in her neck betrayed any kind of alarm.

She smelled nice. The thought passed irrelevantly through his mind. A light smell of strawberries that he believed must be from her shampoo surrounded her. Loki had always enjoyed the fruit, particularly when matched with chocolate.

“If you are trying to intimidate me,” she said hardily, “you will have to try better than that.”

“Intimidate you? On the contrary, I was trying to entice you. Are my skills as rusty as that?”

“It’s interesting that your words when flirting are move removed from your true self than any of the other words you have spoken thus far. If I were to guess, I would say you were not one to give your heart over rapidly to another the way Thor did with Jane. Is that part of why it surprised you so much?”

“Why would I ever give my heart to anyone?” he asked, still keeping his voice pleasant as he sat on the edge of her desk, crowding into her space. “I am not so cruel. And who in their right mind would want such a tarnished thing?”

“Tarnish is easy enough to scrub off,” she shrugged. “And I would think there would be many people willing to take a gamble with yours.”

“Indeed? Are you saying I’m attractive, Caroline?”

“You are undeniably handsome,” she admitted. “On top of that, you are intelligent, curious, I would guess talented in many different fields.”

“Oh, I am,” he made his voice as suggestive as possible, and felt a moment of victory when her face blushed slightly.

“I think, after some work, you would make some person an excellent partner.”

“Work?”

“Forgiving yourself.”

“What in Hel do I have to forgive myself for?” he snapped, standing up off the table.

“Not being Thor,” she sighed.

Loki felt as though she had slapped him across the face. So, it turned out this doctor was no different than all the rest. She judged him not by who he was, or even who he might be, but by how far he fell from the perfect golden idol that was Thor. Why had he ever expected different?

“No, Loki, wait,” she said quickly, laying a hand on his arm.

Loki stared down, thinking idly that she was touching him precisely where the Frost Giant had all that time ago. Her touch was warm though, and she grasped him gently as though attempting to heal him instead of trying to burn. He could not remember the last time a person had touched him with anything less than thinly contained violence, and he found himself frozen in place.

“You misunderstand,” she continued, looking up at him. “I am not saying that I think you should be like Thor. I think that even trying to be is an error on your part.”

“Because I am so fundamentally lacking?”

“In some ways, but in others you are so fundamentally more. From everything I read about Asgard before seeing you today, and everything you have told me, the social hierarchy sounds like that of a common high school here on Earth. Thor is strong, brash, brave, all those things. But he doesn’t think before he acts. He doesn’t even really believe a person should think first. In a culture that celebrates battles and strength, he shines. He is an instrument as blunt and inflexible as his hammer, and good for similar functions.

“You, on the other hand, are the complete opposite. You are agile, reflexive, fluid, graceful. Your mind is just as much of a weapon as any tangible object, and I would wager much more lethal. You will survive far better than your brother, because you know how and when to swerve or bend but never surrender. The Asgardians, with their black and white mentality, would not be able to see what a great advantage this is.”

“That is true,” he said begrudgingly.

“Now, let’s look at your childhood again. You were brilliant, I assume, from a young age. That would have made your teachers envious, and I can imagine that you did nothing to hide your superiority to them.”

“A God does not hide his gifts.”

“And they are gifts!” she pounced. “So, if your teachers resent you for the most part, and the other children see more value in arms than in books, what then? Your father spent all of your formative years recounting battles to you, it couldn’t help but glorify skills at arms. The entire society you were planted in revolved around them. And you, from before you understood, would have internalized this.

“And then the final knell – Thor is given Mjornir and the crown.”

“That was never in doubt,” Loki lied. He had dared to hope, long ago now, that the throne of Asgard might fall to him. That somehow he could prove to Odin that he was worthy of his pride and love. He had been a fool.

“You might have known intellectually, but it still would have hurt,” she shook her head.

It had hurt more than he cared to remember. The worst was that no one seemed to even consider that he might feel anything other than delighted on his brother’s behalf. He had been happy, in a fashion. He loved Thor back then with an ease that he grieved the lack of now. Still, that one small, kernel of hope had always remained that somehow, he could convince their father that he was not just a spare prince, dark shadow following behind Thor’s gleaming sun.

“What does it matter?” he asked with a sigh.

“It matters! It matters because you matter. Yes, Odin chose Thor. But that is because Odin has no more imagination than your brother. He wants Asgard to continue on as it has always done. In Thor, he has a perfect reflection of himself. He didn’t choose you because you would have tried new things, made improvements, and, yes, mistakes as well. But you would have changed the status quo. You were not less than, Loki. You were unique.”

Loki walked back to the bench, her words echoing in his head. Had he been comparing himself to Thor all this time? He had thought that he had ceased to do so years ago. Still, the constant praise of his brother rang in his ears. The worship in everyone’s eyes all but blinded him. He had tried to see the irony in it all, to see the throngs who followed his brother as lemmings, nuisances at best.

Magic had helped, a little. His mother had done her best to give him something of his own, and he had seized on it with embarrassing eagerness. He could still remember the first time he had faced Thor across the pitch, their father watching expectantly from the sidelines, knowing that he had a new advantage his brother would never possess. It had all gone as usual. Thor had attacked head on while Loki dodged and danced, blades flashing. Then, summoning all of his magical strength, Loki had blurred his image so that Thor was not sure where he truly started and stopped. It was a crude version of a trick he could do without thinking now. It had been enough to confound his brother, who threw himself at the wrong side of Loki and ended up lying face down in the dirt, Loki’s dagger pressed to the back of his neck.

Loki had been ecstatic. Surely, at last, he would hear Odin’s praise. Instead, his father had looked at him coldly from his one good eye, face unpleased.

“Tricks,” he had said. “Unsporting in this sort of battle. I had expected more from you.”

Odin had turned around and walked away, leaving Loki crushed. Frigga had tried to ease his hurt, assuring him that he had done the spell just right, and she was so proud of him, but the damage had been done. He told himself he gave up on trying to win Odin’s approval at that moment, but he knew it was a lie. A part of him wanted it still.

“Tell me what living creature ever dreamed of being unique,” Loki asked quietly. “Unique is just another word for alone.”

“Unique is special,” Dr. Thorpe countered. “Loki, you don’t have to be alone.”

“Would you link yourself to me, Doctor?” he asked, thinking to call her bluff. “There is, after all, very little time left. Would you stay with me until the axe falls, be it tomorrow or the next day?”

“If you wish it,” she surprised him with the answer. “I don’t think the axe has to fall, necessarily, but even if it does, I will be there with you, if you like. As a friend.”

“A friend,” the word tasted strange on his tongue. “Friend to the one who tried to subjugate your kind? Who killed humans without a second thought?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you are what you were made to be, and no one deserves to be alone.”

“Yet in the end, we are all. And so shall I be.”

“Loki, I will ask you one last time, do you want to die?”

Loki looked at her, truly considering the question for the first time. He did not actively seek out death, not since he had let go of Gungnir a fallen into the abyss. In that moment he had, indeed, longed for an end to all the pain. Instead, the true pain had only just begun. Wincing away from the memory, he brought himself to the present.

No, he did not particularly want to die. He just was not sure he wanted to live. He knew who hunted him, somewhere in the greater galaxy. He had thought he might be safe on Asgard. Surely his father, he had believed, even if he was not so by blood, would take him back rather than leave him to the barbaric Midgardians. An Asgardian jail cell would not be pleasant, but at least it would be marginally safer. Even one as mad as his pursuer would not risk a head on confrontation with Odin AllFather.

It had not happened that way. Odin had washed his hands of his Jotun pawn. Loki was on his own, with nothing standing between him and more of the agony he had endured in his captivity.

“It might be better for all involved were it to be over,” he said at last. “I fear you have wasted your time with me. Let them end it and save yourselves.”

“Save ourselves from what? From you?”

“No, my threat is over.”

“Then what? Loki, what are you afraid of?”

“I told you, I fear nothing!”

Lies, of course.

“I don’t believe you. Everyone has fears.”

“And what are yours?” he asked, suddenly angry at her for making him feel. “Tell me, Caroline, what are your deepest, darkest fears that keep you up at night? Is it loneliness for you, is that why you hope to see it in me? Do you lie there, alone in your bed with no one to care for you? Only your work to keep you warm in the cold hours of the night? Would you cling to me in my uniqueness because you fear to be on your own?”

“In part, yes, probably,” she agreed with him, startling him once again. “I do know what it is like to be different. To keep others at arm’s length. I know what it is to be alone.”

“Well then, shall we comfort each other? You are not uncomely.”

He had meant to intimidate her, to drive her away, but as he drew closer to her, Loki realized that he would not mind spending time with her. She was more attractive than he had made it sound, and he could feel himself responding to her. Against his will, he began imagining her eyes, frank and compassionate, darkened with desire. Or perhaps it was not all his imagination. Her pulse was racing again, and her pupils had dilated as she looked up at him.

“What you suggest would not be appropriate,” her voice was more strained than it had been before.

“Because I am a terrorist?” he murmured, close to her ear.

“Because you are my patient.”

“I politely decline your services, doctor. At least, your professional services. You had said you would keep me company. We could become quite friendly if you desire.”

“I think this is a good time for a break,” she said crisply, standing and smoothing her hands over her skirt.

“I thought you wanted to stay with me,” he smirked.

“We need food,” she told him. “I will go arrange something and be back shortly.

Loki grinned as she hurried from the room, but the humor faded quickly. He had won that round, he believed. So why did the victory feel so hollow?

#Loki #Loki fic #fan fic #post Avengers Assemble #angst #therapy #talk of suicidal thoughts in previous chapters #Loki needs a hug #trauma #Loki/OFC #Loki needs a friend #eventual romance #unhealthy family dynamics #Odin sucks #odin's a+ parenting #Can we hug him please? #inapropriate flirting

[sweetlittlegingy]

Better Man

✦Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother

✦Word Count: 6.7K

✦Warnings: Fluff, Angst, mentions of SA (previous relationship), self-hate, shitty schools, bullying, possible thoughts of suicide (on explicitly stated). Please let me know if I missed something.

✦A/n: Repost, the original is no longer showing up for me. I’m not sure what happened, if your seeing double I apologize.

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

The incessant buzzing coming from your pocket continues, as you listen to Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates go over mission plans. Attentively listening and marking down any changes that need to be made to the paperwork.

As the admirals Administrative Service Manager, you held the responsibility of keeping all things “Top Gun” in order: including incoming pilots, flight schedules, and the newly permanent Dagger Squadron.

You subduedly shift silencing the buzzing, again focusing on Cyclone and Warlock.

“I want a new set of recruits coming in, with Maverick training them.” Cyclone gives you a pointed look. “I want him to be on board by the end of the week. You both, can go over applicates and find those best fitted.”

You silently nodded, jotting down that you need to draft a letter for Mav and get it to him before Wednesday. 

 “With the success of the Uranium Mission, DC is going to want to see what else the Dagger Squadron can do. I want them flying new drills and layouts every day. Draft up a few different sets of flight plans, get them on my desk by Wednesday morning.”

“Of course, sir. Two days will be more than enough time to draft up three or four, and I will have a handful more done by next Monday.” You trail off as your phone starts buzzing again.

Pausing to grab it while Cyclone and Warlock keep chatting, you realize that it’s Mathews school calling. Raising your hand in a silent gesture, you glance up and ask if you can be excused for a moment. To which Cyclone nods, signaling to the hallway.

Rising up, you not so slowly, make your way to the door and press answer. Miss Clarks voice rings through your phone, telling you once again that Mathew has been called to the office.

“Miss Benjamin, you need to come in. Principle Davis wants to talk to you immediately. Mathew is fine, though he has been placed in the corner and will not be allowed recess time.” She mutters harshly.

You slowly shake your head and lean up against the wall, “What happened?” you question. Waiting for a response that doesn’t come. “I know that Mathew is not the only child at fault here. So, I’m going to ask again, what happened?”

You know that your sweet Mathew would never hurt someone without probably cause, and even then, it’s unlikely. Though this is the first call you’ve received from the school, you’ve been in three other times for words with the principal. Discussing another upper-class student that had been picking on Mathew.

The same excuse being thrown in your face that, none of the teachers saw the bullying and that Mathew was lying. Though the last time, Mathew told you that the other boy had pushed him and scrapped his knees. Markings on his knees, you saw during bath time, that night confirmed that he had been pushed.

Each visit you had, the school ignored you and claimed you to be an overprotective mother.

“Mathew hit another boy, Miss Benjamin.”

The statement shocks you at first, but then you question why Mathew hit him.

“Well Mathew says that he was hit first, but no one saw it.”

“You’re telling me, that my son was hit, then defended himself, and you didn’t think to lead the conversation with that information.”

Pushing off the wall you start to make your way to your office. “I will be there in 20 minutes.” Grabbing your purse, leaving the paperwork knowing that you will be coming back to the office enviably.

“Also, Miss Clark,” your voice steadily rises. “Get my child out of the damn corner.” You all but yell before hanging up on the woman.

Stepping out of your office and running into Lt. Bradshaw, you bounce off him. He grabs your arms steadying you, as you apologize.

 “You okay there, Y/N” He questions quickly realizing how stressed you are.

You can feel the frustration seeping from your bones, tears lining your eyes. Working to steady your breathing, in any possible way to avoid crying.

A quick smile, that is in no way real, paints your lips, “Yes Bradley, I just need to go the Maty’s school.” Checking your purse, you make sure that you have your keys. “Can you do me a favor though?” Glancing up you see him intently listening, as if they would be orders from Commander Kazansky himself.

“I’m bringing Maty back here, I’ve got paperwork to finish, but I need someone to watch the munchkin.”

You pick at your nails, hating that you would have to ask for help. Though Amelia is still in class and Penny was deep cleaning the Hard Deck, so you had no one to ask.

“I know you guys are probably really busy, but could he hang out with you and Jake for a bit. He loves Uncle Roos, and I think that after today, getting to see the planes would cheer him up.” You add quietly that you understand if not, that you would figure it out.

“Y/N/N of course, I’m always available to hang with the little man. I’m free for the rest of the day actual.” He looks down sheepishly, “I was coming to tell you that a few of the plane’s radars were messing up, and that we would be down for a couple days.”

Taking a deep breathe, adding one more thing to your to-do list. You know that plane electronics can’t be helped, and that it should be a relatively easy fix. It just feels like so much more, added to your near melting brain.

You tell him that you’ll handle it, while walking together towards Cyclones office. Stepping in to get the two admirals’ attention, you let them know that you are taking your lunch now and will be back before one. They assure you that you are fine and that they trust you to get your job done, without them hounding on you.

Going to leave, Bradley follows you out. You head for your car, while he heads towards the east hanger. Though before he gets too far you, call back to him.

“B… Don’t tell Jake I was crying. Please… I don’t want to bother him.” You hold your hand up, blocking the glare of the sun on your face. “It was silly of me to cry anyway.”

The look he gives you clearly shows that he wants to comment on you saying that your emotions are silly, but he just nods an okay.

“Thanks B.” Thankful that he understands, you turn as he waves goodbye. Climbing in your car, for the 15-minute drive to Mathew’s school that will inevitably end in tears and a migraine.

Pulling up to the school, you wipe at your eyes. Trying to get the redness to go away, or at least look like you haven’t spent the last 15 minutes anger crying. The puffiness of your cheeks is a dead given away that something is wrong, though you hope that its subtle enough that Mathew won’t notice.

Your sweet baby was the most empathic and observant child you had even seen. A blessing and a curse to you both. In one way he was kind and loving and yet in another, much less helpful way, he noticed when anything hurt or upset you. Slowly becoming the protector of his momma, and carrying a load on his shoulders far heavier than any five-year-old should.

He was the light of your life and the only good thing that your ex gave you. Though you’d taken to claiming that your ex had no part in making Mathew. He was too kind to have any part of your ex in his DNA.

You were just thankful that he was the spitting image of you, and hadn’t been around his “father” long enough to pick up any traits. With your Y/H/C and the exact shade of skin tone, there was no denying he was your mini-me.

His eyes though, oddly enough were the exact same shade of green as Jakes. Something that everyone in your life liked to point out. Often making comments, that if they hadn’t known you like they did, “They would assume that Jake was the father.”

A thought that you wished had been true. Jake was wonderful with Mathew, and an amazing role model for him. Though you had only been official together for five months, Jake was always working to show you how much you both meant to him.

That alone was a hard enough concept to understand, when the only relationship you’d ever been in was the complete opposite.

Your ex-Adam had ruined your views on relationships, the five years you were together were some of the hardest you’d ever been through. Finally getting out just before Mathew turned three.

Adam had gotten handsy with you in front of Mathew, had pushed you to your breaking point and left you on the floor like an empty husk.

You still hate yourself for that night, because of you Mathew was in therapy once a week with nightmares. Recounting memories, that a then 2-and-a-half-year-old, shouldn’t remember.

It was your biggest regret, letting him see everything that happened.

The experience wasn’t something you talked about, finding that therapy only made it worse. Pushing the memories away and burying it in a hidden chest, at the back of your mind.

Gathering your purse, you move to get out of the car.

When you notice a missed call and text from Jake, “Hey darlin’ missing you. Rooster said you were picking up Maty early, everything okay?”

You quickly type back, that you just got to the school and would text him when you were back on base. Adding that you missed him as well, which caused a small smile to cross your lips.

Walking into the front doors, you immediately head to the office. Giving yourself a mini pep-talk in preparation for Principal Davis, and his ever-sexist comments.

Your eyes immediately go to Miss. Clark, who wears the lowest cut shirt that you’ve ever seen in an elementary school. Her head pops up from typing, as she hears the low click of your heels on the tile.

Your gaze is cast upon her, one that should put her 6-feet under.

“Where is Mathew?” You question, a harsh bite in your tone.

To which she studders out that they placed him in an extra room and told him to stay. The action should surprise you, but you’ve learned that this school clearly has lower morals and standards.

You walk straight passed her desk, without another word and push into the extra room. If it could even be called that, only the size of a “oversized” closet at best. The temperature change doesn’t go unnoticed.

There you see Maty, head resting on a table, as tiny shudders rack through his body. Rushing to his side, you softly go to cradle his small body. Falling to the floor on your knees, as a soft Momma falls from his lips.

Gently “shh”ing and rocking his body back and forth, like you did when he was a baby.  As he quiets down you look into his tear-stained face, and your heart breaks a bit more.

“Sweet bubba, it’s okay. I got you, it’s okay.” His tears slowly turn into gentle whimpers.

Not wanting to upset him anymore, but knowing that you have to ask him questions before you see Davis.

“Darling, what happened? Are you hurt?” your eyes gently rank over his form, noticing how he hold his tummy.

“They belly flopped me momma.”

Your questioning gaze is enough that Mathew pulls up his shirt and you see a bright red mark across his belly. Anger seeps from you and your struggle to hid it behind a smile. Not wanting him to see how upset you are.

Rising up you grab his backpack and carry Mathew out into the main office.

Your voice snaps across the office, stilling Miss Clarks typing fingers.

“Miss Clark, I am going to be checking Mathew out. I am also going to have a few words with Principal Davis, and I suggest you take Mathew out into the hallway to look at the new mural being painted.” Your tone leaves no room for suggestion.

You set Maty down and give him a little wink, pushing him to hallway as Miss Clark follows. You turn sharply and stare straight at the closed door that hasn’t moved once since you’d arrived. Pacing to the door you knock and walk in without waiting for an answer. If he wants to lack human decency with your child, then you can do the same.

Your sudden entrance startles the middle-aged man, jolting him from his chair and the nap he seemed to be taking.

His lingering eyes rake up and down your form, as a sleazy smile forms on his face. The look makes you shudder, awaking distant memories and feelings.

He gets up to make a move for you, “Miss Benjamin, I’m glad you could make it. Please sit.”

You state that you’d rather stand, though he doesn’t listen and makes a motion for you. His hand moves to your lower back, in an unwelcomed gesture. Brushing his hand off, you glare at the hand.

“You see Miss Benjamin, Mathew is a troubled boy and needs handled.”

The word “handled” makes your skin crawl as you listen.

“He doesn’t listen and clearly has no male role model, from the ringless finger I can see.” You bite your tongue as he moves to sit on his desk, directly in front of you.

“Now I think that we,” he motions to the both of you, “can work on this. Fix his attitude and make him into a child, someone would actually want. One that not picking fights for attention, especially ones with older children he can’t beat.” He finishes with a chuckle.

The steam must be rising from you, the anger that is completely incasing your body feels like you might set the whole world on fire.

As you rise from your chair, words laced with venom drip from your tongue ready to kill, meteorically and literally.

“You have no right to comment on my child and how he is raised. I think it best if you step off your damn high horse, before I knock you off it.” Your finger jabs at his chest. “You should be damn happy I’m not reporting you to the school board, for neglect and harassment.”

You stand up, ready to be out of his presence.

“Mathew will be pulled from the school; I’m absolutely done with you and everyone in this school.” Pulling the door open you look back at him, “If anything comes from the assault done to my son’s stomach, whether it be lasting pain or marks….. I will, fucking ruin you.”

With that you leave, shaking at the audacity of the man. How he touched you, insinuated that Mathew needed fixed, and most of all the absolute lack of care, that he should have had for both children in the situation.

The other child that Mathew hit was nowhere in sight and clearly didn’t get in trouble. You know that hitting isn’t the answer, but Mathew was defending himself against a bigger child. This whole situation was handled poorly, as it has been every other time you’ve came in for bullying. This was the final straw and you’re done.

You gasp as you make your way to grab Mathew from Miss Clark, barely able to keep the tears at bay. Gently buckling Maty up into his car seat, you place a kiss on his forehead as he wipes a tear from your cheek.

“Don’t be sad momma.”

You mutter an I love you and climb back into your seat, ready to never see that school again.

Your tears don’t go unnoticed by the three men as you pull back up to your office. Jake, Robert, and Bradley all exchange looks as you park and get out of the car. You avoid their gazes as you get Mathew out of the car.

“Uncle Roo, can we look at the planes?” Mathew yells to the men as he notices them, a massive smile forming, and his horrible day forgotten.

“Yeah buddy, all the planes. Bob even said he’d let you be Nat’s new WSO.” Bradley laughs and then gives a knowing look to Jake.

“Your Momma and Jake are gonna go pack up her work for the day, then get you a bag ready to have a sleep over with me.”

You go to comment, but Jake steps forward. Wrapping his arm around your waist, “Cyclone already knows darlin’. You and me are gonna work on flight plans at home, then have a nice relaxing night.” He finishes with a loving kiss on your cheek, that you can’t help but to lean into.

Your body relaxes in his embrace, dropping your shoulders you lean father into his touch. Craving it like a warm blanket, that you unwillingly want to admit, you need.

Mathew is bouncing at the thought of a sleepover and asks Bob if he is coming too, to which he replies of course. The trio goes to turn away, though not before Maty comes rushes back, giving you and Jake hugs.

“Love you momma. Love you Jake.” He says it so childlike that you can’t help, and be a tad envious. Jake quickly lifts Mathew and gives him tickle, telling him to listen to his uncles. Before setting him down and brushing a kiss onto the top of his head.

“I love you too, buddy.”

You watch as Maty walks off, relaxing knowing that he is feeling better and knowing that if he showed the slightest sign of discomfort Bradley would call. You rest your head gently against Jake’s chest, taking a few deep breathes and silently hold yourself together.

His arm slips from your waist, up to cradle the side of your face making you look into his eyes. A green so deep that you could get lost in, if you only let yourself.

“Darlin’”

You quietly shake your head in protest, knowing that it he asks you might break down.

The tears built around the edge of your eyes, and you quickly cast your face down. Unwilling to let him see you break.

 To be another hassle in his life.

A mess, that he would realize wasn’t worth the work.

Though he gently kisses your forehead, letting you be for now and pulls you towards the building.

Hands clasped tightly together, like he’s afraid to lose you through the cracks within your broken heart.

Jake stays by your side as you make your way through the building and to your office. Only letting go of your hand, so that you can grab your laptop and paperwork. You slowly pack everything that you need into a tote, your movements lagging.

Feeling completely drained and over the day. You can feel yourself pulling back into a shell, unsure how to function with another person right now.

You weren’t used to people helping when you had a hard day, or break down. Only that you weren’t supposed to show your emotions, because if you did it would end so much worse.

A screaming match, about how inconsiderate it was that you let your mood seep into other people’s lives. That if you could just fucking smile for once, then maybe people would like you.

The thought makes you look to Jake and give him a fake smile, in hopes that he doesn’t realize how much it hurts.

He notices but doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a reassuring kiss on the cheek and takes the tote from you, to carry out to the car.

“Where are your keys darlin’?”

He questions, replying before you can protest.

“I want to drive sweets, okay. I want to take care of you.”

Worry clouds your brain, but you’re too tired to make a fuss.

“Thank you” you say as you place them in his out reached hand.

“Always baby.” He states it so matter a factly that your heart flutters. The wink that follows, makes it skip a beat.

The drive home is fast, your wandering mind lost in thought. Jakes hand rests steady against your thigh, a gently rubbing motion to sooth you.

Walking up into your quaint little beach house, the final bit of anxiety leaves your body. Finding comfort in being home, in your safe space. Jake silently follows you up the steps and locks the door once you’re both inside.

Your body’s frozen; you stand quietly in the hallway, unsure of what to do. Jakes comes up to rest behind you, carefully wrapping you in his arms. Afraid that the slightest touch will send you spiraling.

“Why don’t you go take a nice shower sweets? Relax, decompress and I will make you some tea for after your done.”

You squeeze his hands in a silent thank you and head to the bathroom.

Your face looks tired and broken, and as you stare at your reflection, those tears that you worked so hard to hold in fall. You switch on the shower, to silence the sobs that are wreaking havoc upon your mind and body.

You shed your clothes and step into the burning water, in hopes to erase the feeling of Davis’ hands on you.

Memories of past and present blend together, making it difficult to ground yourself, to know that you’re safe.

Davis’ hand, becomes HIS hands on you. A ringing in your ears echoes a distant memory of the screams that were ripped from your body.

The incident today, shattered your tough girl façade. The box that you worked so hard to bury, ripped up, meant to consume everything in its path.

Both of their hand blending into one, pushing on the small of your back.

Down farther, suffocating and screaming out at the same time.

Your back crashes against the tile walls, as you slip to the floor. Memories flashing through your mind; the way you yelled stop and how you begged Maty to look away. His sweet baby eyes, watching as you were ripped apart.

You should have worked harder to make him stop.

To make sure Mathew couldn’t see or hear.

But you didn’t.

You failed him in that moment

And you hate yourself for it.

A sudden slam jolts you from your thoughts, and a worried Jake is standing there. Infront of the broken in door, chest heaving and wild-eyed. He falls to his knees as a broken sob, escapes your lips.

Climbing into the shower, fully clothed, to hold on to your trembling body. It’s only then that you notice the water is freezing and that you must have lost track of time.

He mutters sweet nothings into your ear, softly creasing your back. He shifts your body momentarily way from his chest, to turn of the stream of cold water. Shifting back, you clutch onto his shirt. Clinging to the warmth that radiates off him, and the feeling of safety that you can always find in his embrace.

Breathing in the familiar smell of jet fuel mixed with sandalwood and black pepper, your mind fights to regain clarity. That you are home, safe in Jakes arms.

Not caring what horrible outcome awaits you once you explain your panic attack.

Once he finally realizes out how damaged you are.

You won’t blame him, if you could get away from yourself you’d run too.

Though, for this moment you need him. To be able to savor this moment and memorize it for once you’ve lost it. Tuck it away deep within your soul, a memory that a one point he loved you.

He’s never said it, but you’d like to think that he does. At least loves the version of you that is still nice and shiny. He couldn’t ever love the one that’s real, broken, and damaged beyond repair. How could anyone love something so pitiful.

Pulling back, the words fall from your mouth before you can even think to stop them.

The harsh truth.

“I wasn’t enough Jake.” A gasp falls from your mouth, more tears crash down your face.

“I should have tried harder. To stop Adam. To protect Maty. To make the school listen.” Your head shakes in silent disappointment in yourself.

“I could have been better, for Maty, for you.”

“But I failed, and I’m just so tired of trying.”

Your head lays resting against Jake’s chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart. Trying to slow your gasping breaths. His hand rests on the back of your head, gently rocking the both of you.

“I’m so tired of doing it alone.” You pull away from him, to look in his eyes as you lay the truth of your relationship out.

“But it’s not your job and I can’t push that on you. You shouldn’t have to come in and take care of a child that isn’t yours.”

You can see Jake silently shaking his head, as tears start to fall from his eyes.

“I’m just so angry. At how broken and lonely I feel. How I’ve pushed you away, because I’m scared of losing you.” Words continue to fall from your lips, until Jake gentle grabs your face.

He takes a shuddered breath in, his voice cracking slightly.

“Y/F/N look at me.”

Your tear-stained eye stare at each other, a plea asking you to listen.

The hand cradling your face, settles your trembling lip. His other hand comes up to push your soaked hair out of your face. His body heat warms you, and his eyes show nothing but pure love and heartbreak. Like seeing you in so much pain is slowly breaking his heart too.

Your heart aches as you see the tears streaming down his face, gently you reach a shaking hand up to cup his cheek. His hand rises to cradle the one covering his cheek, both your foreheads fall together.

“Darlin’ let me make one thing clear, you and Mathew are the best damn thing that has ever happen to me. From the moment I met you, before we ever got together, I knew I wanted you.”

His words sound foreign to your ears, and you mind sits telling you that he’s lying. But his eyes, the green that you’re in love with, they hold such truth, and you chose to believe he’s not lying.

“Come on, let get you dressed, and we can talk.” He stands with ease, carrying your form as if you were as light as air. “I think we’re both gonna need that cup of tea to warm up. Unless you wanna share body heat, sweets.”

He gives you a wink and you can’t stop the girlish giggles that abrupt from you. The way that he can brighten your mood with the smallest gestures, still amazes you.

“There’s my girl.”

Dressed in fuzzy socks and one of Jake’s old navy shirts, you curl up on the couch as Jake reheats the water for your tea. He comes around the corner moments later with two cups of tea; chamomile for you, his momma always told him it was calming, and peppermint for him.

It reminded him of Christmas, the one-time when everyone in his family got along. The yearly tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve at mid-night, then having a family dinner Christmas night. A joyous atmosphere filled the house, as his mother baked and sisters hand pick which Christmas records to play.

It was a tradition that he hoped to start with you and Mathew, creating your own rendition of the family Christmas.

The sweatpants hang low on his hips, your eyes roam over his torso slowly. Taking in each hard line and the tan skin, your eyes slowly make it up to his face and a cocky smile rests on his lips.

“Like what you see darlin’”

A blush covers your cheeks as you realize that you’ve been caught, once again.

“You’re just so pretty.” You reply, a matching blush covers his cheeks. Happy that you got the desired reaction out of him.

He settles into the seat beside you, handing you your tea, and brushing a gentle kiss against your brow. He pulls your covered feet to rest in his lap and covers you both up with a blanket.

He gently strokes your calf and takes a sip of tea, before asking you what happened today.

So, you start for the beginning. Telling him about your meeting this morning and how the school called. Relaying to him that they put Mathew in a freezing room and how he was just defending himself.

“It was that 2nd grader, Jake. The one that’s been picking on him, Thomas, Timmy…”

“Toby, Darlin’” Jake answers for you, causing your head to snap up in silent questioning.

“Maty, he brought him up to me the other day. I didn’t mention it, well because” he rubs the back of his neck and looks down sheepishly. “I may have told him… that if Toby touched him, they he was allowed to defend himself.”

A smile graces your face, realizing how much he carries about Mathew.

“Then I showed him how to throw a punch.”

With that a full laugh falls from your lips, surprising Jake completely. He was prepared to get his butt chewed, but here you are in a fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry..” You struggle to catch your breath. “It’s just, I’ve been wanting to knock that second grader on his ass sense he pushed Maty.”

Jake releases a blusterous laugh, shaking his head, and a teasing smile directed at you.

You sink farther into the couch and talk a large sip of your tea. Your body finally relaxing, causing your shoulders to drop and your legs to stretch farther into Jakes lap.

You continue on, telling him how Miss Clark wasn’t helpful and how your pretty positive the Principal Davis was sleeping before you barged into his office.

The pause you take to collect your thoughts and calm your racing mind, doesn’t go unnoticed. Though Jake patiently waits, giving you time, and when you’ve taken a few deep breaths Jake motions you to go on.

Blowing out a puff of air, you calm the rage that slowly rises in you from thinking about Principal Davis.

“He’s just horrible Jake. Every time I’ve came to him about Toby or the other boys, he called me overprotective, and said that Mathew is the child at fault.”

His hand remains on your calf, rubbing. You’re not sure if it’s to sooth you or him.

“Then he stood there and implied that he and I could “work together”” you motion quotations with your hands, “to fix the problem. That he clearly didn’t have a male role model, and my ringless finger was the proving point.”

His hand only stops for a moment when you say ringless, but it’s long enough that you notice his pause.  

“The man is so damn aggravating.”

You blow out a breath of air, moving the now partially dry hair that fell across your face. Jake reaches up and moves the strand behind your ear, his hand then falling to cress your cheek before you continue.

“He’s got entitlement issues and has no respect for personal space.” The words rush out of your mouth, before you realize how they might affect Jake.

“The way his hands felt… God, they just made my skin crawl. It was just too much.”

His hand stills on your leg completely and you can feel his body transform; from your soft and gentle Jake to Hangman, the man that had look death in the eyes and laughed.

You look up and his face is void of all emotions, but anger.

“Darlin’ I need you to be very clear with me.” his voice is laced with such venom, that you would be terrified of him, if you couldn’t still see the gentleness in his eyes.

“Are you telling me that Davis touched you?”

You nod, ashamed of the action “He only touched my lower back, and I shouldn’t make it into such a big deal, but it just felt wrong.”

Jake stares back at you with a hardness you’ve never seen.

“Y/N no one is ever, allowed to touch you without your permission. I don’t care what the circumstances are, or what you’ve been told in the past.” He blows out a shuddered breath.

“Baby I am not even allowed to touch you, without your permission.” Both his hands are now holding up your face, making sure you look at him. “Do you understand that?  

The tears that fill your eyes are answer enough.

He knew enough of your past, to know what little value you had for yourself.

Jake had woken up with Mathew on nights that he’d spent the night, the young boy crying out after a nightmare. In the beginning Jake just wanted to give you a break and let you sleep, but he soon realized that Maty needed the extra time with him as well. The little boy had opened up to Jake, telling him about his dreams and memories. Explaining that he couldn’t tell momma, because it made you cry.

Those nights lying awake with Mathew, while rubbing his back to sooth him and help him fall asleep, were some of Jakes most treasured moments. The need to take care Maty and be the stable father-figure in his life, continuously grew. To the point that Jake no longer saw a life without you and his little boy.

You didn’t have to explicitly tell Jake what you had went through, he knew enough and if you ever changed your mind, he would listen. Grateful that you wanted to share that part of you, but it wouldn’t be something he pushed.

No, he would just continuously keep working to show you your worth and how much he loved you. He hadn’t told you yet how much he loved you, to afraid to scare you off, but he knew that you were it for him the first time that he met you.

Papers strewn around the floor in your office, while you sat in the middle, contemplating different flight tracks and patterns. You hadn’t realized he’d come into your office, until he made a coughing sound to gain your attention.

You looked at him with such seriousness, mad at him for interrupting your work and when he asked you where the admiral was, you glanced at your watch before muttering “lunch” at him like he was a complete idiot.

He knew then that you were everything that he wanted; dedicated to your work, beautiful, and wouldn’t put up with his shit. Mathew was an added bonus, one that he wouldn’t change for all the money in the world.

“Darlin’, you and Mathew are the most precious and important people in my life. I will do anything and everything to make you realized how loved you are.”

You mouth dropped up, sitting in stunned silence.

“You love me? You love us?”

The look you give him, makes him chuckle and run a hand through his hair.

“Sweets you are one of the smartest women that I’ve ever met, but how in the world have you not seen that I have been, head over heels in love with you, since the first time we met?” His Texas accent rings clear in your ear. Laying on heavy whenever he calls you sweets.

“Jake, the first time we met was three and a half years ago. When I first started working on base?” The questioning tone you reply with is clear as day.

“Yeah, I know.”

“We just started dating 10 months ago though?”

“Yeah, I spent a year and a half trying to take you out.”

A hand comes to rub at the back of his neck, as he looks away shyly in a way you’d never seen. Gone was your cocky, self-assured pilot, in his place, a boy that looked worried about getting the girl in high school.

“You know how much the guys made fun of me? Told me I was whipped, and I didn’t even have the girl yet.”

A blush covers your cheeks, as you realize just how oblivious you’d been. Though you can’t help but smile, your heart filling with hope and possibility.

“You don’t need to say it back..”

You cut him off before he can finish, pulling him down into a kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. You pour all of your pent-up emotions into the kiss, silently trying to communicate how much you love him.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you to settle on his lap. As you pull away his hand settles on your cheek, eyes staring into the abyss that is your soul.

“Jacob Grant Seresin, I love you more than words can equivalate to. You are the man that I’ve wanted my whole, and never thought I was worthy of.”

More tears fall from your eyes, though these are pure happiness.

“Thank you for taking a chance on the mess that I am, and I’m sorry for making you wait for so long.” Your giggle at the end, breaks into full blown laughter as Jake tickles you. Pushing you down onto your back, he peppers kisses across your face.

“You should be darlin’, it was torture.” He gives you one last kiss “I’d do it a thousand time over though, as long as it for you.”

“My mess, my girl.”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

Later that night:

“Thank you for helping me with the flight plans, I really didn’t need Cyclone on my ass.” You kiss Jakes waiting lips as you climb in bed for the night.

“Course darlin’”

He gently pulls you back to rest against his chest, peppering kisses on the top of your head. You can’t help but to snuggle deeper into him and the blankets.

“Also, I talk to Rooster and he’s going to bring Mathew to base in the morning. I figured he could hang out with the team. Then if you can get off a bit earlier, we could go by the school on base.”

You go to ask what he was up to.

But he quickly answers, “I called Bob’s wife Lacy, she is a teacher at the school, and she said that their kindergarten teacher is amazing. Also, that they would love to have us come by, and see if it was a good fit.”

You can’t help but be amazed. Wondering how you could have been so clueless and not seen the love that this amazing man has for you and Mathew.

“I love you, that sounds perfect. Thank you.”

Jake moves to shut of the bedside lamp, giving you a sweet kiss. Your lips melting together perfectly. You can feel yourself falling into unconsciousness, your body grateful to finally relax and welcomes the darkness.

Though before you can drift out you feel Jake shift around, nuzzling into your neck as his arm wrap securely around your waist. His body heat encompasses you, causes you to relax even more. Soft kisses are placed on your neck, little ones that you can barley feel.

“Darlin’ don’t think that I forgot about that jackass Davis.”

You stiffen up only slightly, though Jake continues his kisses. Falling just at your jaw line, his hands slide under your shirt and cress your stomach. His gentleness reassures you, and you chose to focus his moments more than his words.

“I don’t want you worrying.”

He places a kiss behind your ear,

“I’m just gonna have a talk with him.”

One on your cheek,

“Make sure he knows that you are mine, even without a ring on your finger.”

A soft fleeting kiss on the lips, that has you chasing his mouth as he pulls away. A cheeky smile stares down at you, before he gently grabs your left hand and kisses your finger.

A silent promise.

When you fall asleep, you can’t help but dream about that promise.

#jake 'hangman' seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #Jake Seresin! stepdad #top gun hangman #hangman fanfic #hangman fluff #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun: maverick #hangman top gun #better man #sweetlittlegingy writes #gingy writes #gingy library

[magicamicitia]

WARNING: Mentions of suicidal/intrusive thoughts.

Volume One, Chapter Two

“You’re not alone anymore.”

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Click!

Sunset Shimmer once again woke up to the sound of her alarm clock, and carried on with her morning routine as normal. However, the memories of the previous afternoon refused to leave her thoughts.

She was aware of the existence of magic in other worlds, but… This one wasn’t supposed to be one of them. So what’s up with all of this? Magical girls? Witches? A talking cat-with-bunny-ears freak? It was weirder than anything she’d ever seen in any other world. Apparently, humans like her weren’t supposed to be able to see witches like she did. Sunset figured her background as a magic interdimensional traveller could explain that abnormality.

Whatever this all meant, she hoped Twilight knew what she was doing.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Twilight Sparkle skipped nervously around her room.

“Don’t worry!” the small white creature, who referred to itself as ‘Kyubey’, carefully groomed its fur in a corner. “If you ever need any help, you can always ask me.”

Twilight couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s real reassuring. The last time I asked for your help, You-“

Her train of thought was crudely interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Sweetie?” Her mother’s voice called. “Are you okay in there? You’re gonna be late if you don’t come out soon!”

“Shoot! I’d better get going!”

She left her home in a hurry as to avoid being late, despite her family’s attempts to tell her she still had twenty minutes until her usual time of departure. With a half-eaten sandwich in her hands and a trusty Kyubey over her shoulders, she was surely ready for another day as a high school student AND magical girl!

Huh?

Twilight Sparkle suddenly felt a strange weight on her chest. looking down at the soul gem ring on her finger, she noticed it emitted a strange glow.

“What’s all this now?”

“Your soul gem is reacting to magic,” kyubey answered. “There must be a witch nearby! We have to go after it!”

“NOW?! I can’t go after a witch NOW! I couldn’t even finish off the last one, and if I take too long fighting it… I’ll be…”

She gulped, terrified.

“…TARDY!!!”

“Twilight! You’re a magical girl now, the future of humanity relies on you battling witches!”

“I know, I know… But… Like, can’t you do it or something?”

“Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about witches in their physicial form. But once you defeat the witch, I can collect its grief seed and make sure it never comes back!”

“Ughhhh!!! Fine, I’ll do it, I’ll do it…”

Her soul gem’s magic led her to a beautiful hedge maze just outside an ancient history museum.

“Wow… this place looks so peaceful. Odd spot for a witch to make its lair.”

“You’re right, Twilight. Usually, witches will try to hatch in locations where they can collect the despair of nearby victims. But this maze is a total ghost town…”

“Well, then that must mean this one doesn’t feel like it needs any extra power, huh?”

“Yes. We’d better get ready; we’re about to enter the labyrinth, quite literally.”

As Twilight moved towards the center of the maze, she could feel reality around her become more and more distorted. But she noticed a strange consistency among the chaos.

“These patterns… these creatures… This is the same witch from yesterday!”

Kyubey backed up against Twilight’s legs, looking for refuge. “Looks like we got real lucky then. If we had decided to fight it then, with a human tagging along, things would have gotten real dangerous.”

Twilight spared no time - casting her magical power, she transformed into her magical girl self and barged through the horde of familiars with her shield. The familiars, however, laughed at her futile attempts. Their torn bodies sewed themselves back together to take on another form.

“P…Principal Celestia…?” Twilight felt an enourmous weight fall onto her shoulders.

“Twilight Sparkle,” said the mirage. “What are you doing here, when you should be at school? You used to be such a good student…”

“U-Used to be? No, no, I still am! In fact, I was on my way back-“

“It’s too late for that now. You’ve already been expelled from Crystal Prep, do you want me to expel you from Canterlot High as well? That won’t look good on your records.”

“No! I wasn’t expelled! Candace just thought it would be better for me if…”

Her legs were shaking.

“I… I’m… You’re not supposed to be here!”

Mustering up her strength, Twilight attacked the illusion of Celestia with everything she had. The familiars, however, simply dissolved themselves while laughing, leaving Twilight to fall to the ground, crying and defeated.

“What’s happening… Why am I… So weak…?”

The laughter around her turned to chants.

“End it!”

“What good is a magical girl who can’t fight a witch?”

“End it!”

“Give up your soul gem and feed us!”

“End it!”

“End it!”

“End it!”

Her vision was starting to get blurry. Why did she accept this awful offer in the first place?! She didn’t have what it took to be a magical girl at all!

Oh,

That’s right…

The reason was…

“Hold on tight, sugarcube!”

From the skies, a mysterious sillhouette came down to Twilight’s aid. Once it landed, she was surprised to see another magical girl, just like her!

Well, maybe her clothes were a little different. Very country. And instead of a shield, this girl took out five mint-condition flintlock muskets from her stylish cowboy hat. With the aim and confidence of a professional, she took down the monsters without missing a single shot. Then, she whipped her hair around, adjusted her hat, and turned to a baffled Twilight on the ground.

She smiled and reached out her hand.

“You alright over there?”

Before she could even say anything, four other girls made their way to Twilight and the mysterious magical girl.

“AJ, no fair! You said this one was mine!” A feisty girl with rainbow-colored hair rushed in first, clearly very upset.

“Oh, darling, please, that was clearly not the witch. You’re making a scene for no reason.” Added a purple-haired girl dressed in gorgeous modern-victorian couture.

“Wait,” said the multicolor girl. “Who’s that one over there?”

“I-I’m… Twilight… Twilight Sparkle…” She clumsily adjusted her glasses and got up.

“Pleasure to meet ya, Twilight.” The girl with the muskets smiled. “Name’s applejack.”

“I’m Rainbow Dash!” the spunky girl added.

“My name is Rarity, but you may call me Miss Rarity if you’re a fan.”

“Oh, I’ve heard your name before! You’re like, a prodigy star of the design world, right?”

“You’re quite right, darling! And those two over there are Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy.”

“W…Woah… So, you’re all magical girls…?”

“ALMOST all of us. Flutter can’t seem to come up with a wish, so we just drag her along as moral support.” Rainbow Dash cut in with a sarcastic tone.

“Rainbow, don’t say that!” Applejack reprimanded. “Don’t you worry, sugarcube. I know how scary it is to fight them mean witches all by yourself, but you’re not alone in this no more. We got your back!”

#magicamicitia #mlpmagicami #mlp au #pmmm au

[devieuls]

ˋ Let me Love you༄ ☣

Neteyam Sully x Na'vi Fem Reader <SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Dom Neteyam x Fem Na'vi Reader.

SMUT: Dirty Talk; Fangs; Bites; fingering; Blood; Spit; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; betrayal; slut shaming; oral sex; dacryphilia; outdoorsex; jealousy BDSM.

ANGST: mention of suicide, toxic relationship, words inherent in death, sexual assault, self-harm, derealization, suffering, Requited / Unrequited love, prejudices, bullying and insults. and FLUFF. There will be flashbacks in this series

Aged characters: Neteyam 22 y.o / You 19 y.o.

Synopsis: In the darkest point of your life, swallowed by the abyss, you decide to put an end to your sufferings, seeking relief in the extreme act. Your life was an intricate dance between life and death, and when life decided to take leave and leave death alone in you, you got lost. And as if he had been sent by Eywa himself, a mysterious Na'vi, saves you from hitting bottom, sacrificing himself so you don’t give up. Becoming the light that shone in your darkness. He is the sun that faces your night, and you are the Moon, eternally distant from him.

He grabbed your hand and dragged you away, taking you to his village, a place of healing and hope where he will try to make you love life again, showing you the light you had long lost. Starting a journey of healing, to fight against your demons that tormented you relentlessly, to finally find happiness where you would never have bothered to find it.

Two fates crossed under the tacit protection of the Great Mother, to show that even two opposites can create something perfectly chaotic.

And what happens when night and day dance together, to the rhythm of the stars and waves of balance, eternal opposites that are inevitably attracted?

This is the story of how death falls in love with life; how the sun one day decided to save the moon and how darkness is not so dark if light can penetrate. But also a story of suffering and torment, where not everything is roses and flowers.

CHAPTER WARNING: Mention of suicide and slight violence.

Lenght : 5.1k

NA'VI WORDS: Yawne: Beloved; Tspangoe: I invented this, it means "Suicidal". It comes from "Tspang": Kill and "Oe": I/Me. I couldn’t find a word that came close, so I made it up.

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

Chapter II: Poisonous as Death

The morning light seeped through the drawn skin curtain, dancing gently over your still pale skin. As you opened your eyes annoyed, your vision was blurred at first, but gradually the world around you materialized. You found yourself in a tent that was filled with scents of herbs and burnt incense, noticing a woman sitting on her back with a shawl of red beads that shone on contact with the blinding light.

As you tried to orient yourself, the sounds of nature gently entered your ears. The melodious chirping of birds filled the air, creating a natural symphony that seemed to sing its awakening. You breathed deeply as the earthy aroma of wet earth, mixed with wild musk struck your nostrils, while the smell of wet wood and flowers charged the air with the typical smell of the forest clan.

With caution, you got up to sit on the carpet where you were lying, passing a hand between the braids while strong twines hit your head with pain. The mysterious na'vi pulled the curtains, opening them to change the air once she noticed your awakening, remaining silent. The woman held aromatic herbs in her hand, which she carefully mixed in a clay pot. The air was imbued with the therapeutic scents of the ingredients, which tickled your senses.

She looked up and a grimace spread across her wrinkled face. "You’re awake." She suddenly said in a tone that was too acidic to be even vaguely the Great Mother, but you thought that maybe it could really be her and that she was just angry with you because of the act you did.

"I am…" you whispered with a thread of voice, feeling strange pain at the height of the stomach, while you noticed bandages covering some points of your body.

The old woman approached you, grabbed you by the jaw, carefully looking at your face, turning it as she wished to look for signs of possible trauma or other. "You have a strong spirit, not many survive a fall from such a high waterfall." you opened wide your eyes, pulling yourself back from her grip, observing her with incredulity

"Where am I now?" Your tone was impatient as you looked around, beginning to realize that perhaps your attempt to end it had not come to an end.

The one you identified as the Tsahìk sat next to you, looking at you with hard eyes, filled with contempt. Her time-stamped face and wrinkly hands silently told the story of a woman who had spent her life saving the lives of those who struggled to hold onto it, and who had now healed and saved the life of someone who didn't appreciate the Great gift. The silence weighed heavily between you, interrupted only by the whisper of the forest, which bore the typical melody accompanied by the lively sounds of the village in which you had involuntarily happened.

"You are in the Omatikaya clan, in my tent." she began, acidly, poisoning your body with a few simple words.

You were alive, still stuck in this hell, in the darkness and in the shame that you couldn’t even get it over with.

Meanwhile, Neteyam slowly approached his grandmother’s tent, the heart in his throat and a mixture of hope and fear gripping him. He expected to find you in a comatose sleep, as he had already seen you in those days, but when he lifted the curtain and crossed the threshold, he was surprised. His eyes met your bandaged back, sitting, feeling a sense of happiness and relief to see you awake, remaining still in his footsteps even before opening the mouth.

You turned at once, peering at the boy you reluctantly recognized as 'the one who saved you'. Your gaze was tormented and angry in his. Your irises were like a stormy sea, overflowing with a mixture of gloomy emotions. There was a deep wound in your eyes, a palpable pain that reflected the anger and frustration of being saved against your will.

He looked down, noticing your sharp eyes as blades penetrating directly into his soul. He felt slightly guilty, as if he had somehow broken something sacred by intervening in your choice without your consent. Though on one side of him he was happy to have saved you, to have given you a chance to redeem yourself and enjoy everyday life.

In the meantime Mo'at had left the tent because of the strong and silent tension that was in the air, believing that it was better to leave you two alone to talk and clarify the situation.

"You." You hissed with disgust and acidity, making him shudder at the pungent tone as he approached and you automatically put yourself on the defensive. Your words remained suspended in the air, unable to really break the silence that permeated the tent at that moment.

Neteyam tried to pronounce his name, but held back, fearing that it would make the situation worse. He approached with caution, with a soft step, trying to show respect for the emotional space you needed to feel safe somehow.

You tried to stand up, but the strong pain of stitches and bruises forced you to sit again, while the worried look of the na'vi burned your skin, stretching out a hand as if to prevent you from trying the stupid move again.

"No, don’t move" he said harshly, albeit with a sweet and thoughtful undertone. "You must take it easy, you risked a lot in these days of coma" His tone presented an obvious sign of concern.

You walked away from Neteyam’s close hand just as a wounded animal did, as if you wanted to protect yourself from the outside world, a world that had shattered your expectations and inflicted unimaginable suffering on you. You carried a hand between the now slightly damaged braids, feeling other pains to the head that made you tighten your eyes for the pain.

" Why am I still here?" You hissed while your gaze was focused on your legs, becoming empty and devoid of emotion like your voice. " I threw myself. Why did you save me?" you growled and gritted your teeth, as faint sighs came out of your cerulean and tired lips.

Neteyam listened to you in silence, keeping his eyes down as he searched for the right words not to hurt you. He felt the desperation in your voice, your need to find a way out of that emotional chaos that was pressing you like a rock on the sand. He wishes he could offer you comfort, healing and redemption, but he knew you would be hostile to him because of his 'heroic' act.

"Because I would never let a young Na'vi like you throw her life away like that. Not on my watch." answered with solemn confidence, looking up only for that moment. "You may not see it, but your life means something, you are important to someone" he approached you slightly, still trying not to cross the line he himself had drawn for you.

"I asked you to let me go, to leave me alone. I asked you to leave me, not to save me. And you ignored my words and saved me." You growled as you took a break, meeting his gaze with wrath. "You don’t even know me and you saved me! Why did you do it?! Who are you to decide whether or not to save someone?!" some frozen tears cut your face because of frustration. "I don’t want to live. Why didn’t you let me die?" your tone became weaker, as your heart began to pump blood faster and faster. "You should have let me die…" you whispered as your eyes silently chained. Your look dull, dead, almost extinct, while the only desire that seemed to shine in that amber mirror was death.

Neteyam felt a bitter taste in his mouth, answering urgently. "No, I didn’t and I won’t. I won’t let you die" he retorted, approaching you, taking you by the shoulders almost instinctively. "I don’t need to know you to know that you are someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s friend, and you belong to a clan. You mean something to someone who will one day regret not being able to save you in time. Please stop saying those words" His golden eyes looked at you pleading, while his voice cracked. < Possible that she suffered so much…? > he asked himself looking at your glassy eyes.

You walked away from his touch again, growling at him, with anger and melancholy. Your soul was still fragile and vulnerable, so hostility was the mask you decided to wear, hoping that for this reason they would also abandon you.

"I WAS someone’s daughter, I WAS someone’s sister, I WAS someone’s friend, I HAD a people and a clan. Now I HAVE nothing. because I WAS someone’s loved one, not now, not me." you felt a bite to the throat, a knot that held the words while you vomited them with blood, tearing you with every sentence. "They’re all dead and buried. so whether or not I join the death toll, you don’t have to decide that for me." Your eyes were like pools of dark, deep water, reflecting the abyss of pain you carried inside of you. They are eyes that once could shine with life, but now they were dull and lifeless, hopeless. Your gaze was charged with an overwhelming mixture of anger and sadness, a storm of emotions ready to crash against the man in front of you. Your bitter voice ruined by yet another growl. "As I said, we don’t know each other. So why do you insist on saving me?"

"You were… if you really don’t have anyone, then let me be your people, introduce you to mine and make them yours. I will be your friend, your sister, your family and a companion to cry on if it is necessary. But I won’t let you disappear, because I know there’s still a flame of life inside of you that wants to shine again." His voice began to flicker, but soon he intensified with something reminiscent of hope. A mixture of desperate determination and concern, with a desire to make you understand that there are reasons why it was worth living. "You’re a stranger, it’s true, but I won’t let you do something so stupid. I won’t let you go." He said seriously. He would like to eradicate the pain from your heart somehow, give light to your dead eyes. "You don’t have to do it alone. I will help you, and if you allow me, we will find a reason for you to live, together. Just let me help you."

You looked away from him, gritting your teeth as your jaw twitched. Your heart so heavy it crushed the organs below.

"You don’t understand…" you whispered in an absent voice, looking out at the curtain walls as you scraped the palm of your hand because of frustration. "I don’t want to live. I don’t want to live anymore. This is not life, it’s not my clan and you can’t be the piece that stops the sinkhole. My life… died with them. But don’t you see? this is only a body that pulls forward and that will turn off" Your voice made the blood freeze to Neteyam, who raised his ears as his tail stopped moving in the air, finding rest behind him. You were honest, you weren’t lying, and he understood that. "I need you to let me go."

"You’re not listening to me. We can find you a life here, even if the life you had before was taken from you… give this a chance." He said gently, trying to hide the pain you had given him. You can form a new family here…" his head bent to the side looking for your eyes, pleading. " Please… believe me" he timidly extended his hand, before leaving it hanging in the air. "Look at me, please. You will not be alone in this." Neteyam was determined after a long time.

He will be patient with you, he will listen to you and he will try to advise you, these were the resolutions that he had fixed in his mind. He will try to understand the pain that burns inside you, and he will burn with it if it helps you.

You didn’t look at him, just taking long breaths, not wanting to answer what you had just been told.

"I promise I will never leave you alone in this fight. I will be here for you, even when it seems like no one else is, and even when you treat me this way. I will not give up, just let me in" he said before he got up. And in that instant, you felt yourself drowning once again, no longer in the waters of the oblivion of that river, but in an unexplored sea of conflicting and inextricable feelings. "You cannot let go like this. You cannot let the dark take over… "

With one last look full of compassion, the man quietly withdrew from the tent, letting you face your emotions in the silence and privacy you needed. Knowing that the path to healing will take time.

For hours you found yourself alone in the hut, not knowing that Neteyam had forbidden anyone to disturb your solitude, still keeping you under surveillance from outside. The Tsahìk’s hut was comfortable, the atmosphere that enveloped the tent was warm and full of positivity, in which the smell of herbs mixed with that of the skin of the tent

You sat on the floor, on the soft carpet, with your legs crossed and your gaze lost in the void. The light of day burst in creating small shadows that seemed to reflect the storm that was stirring in you. Your hands clasped softly around your knees, the contact with your now rough skin offered you an anchor point in reality while the chaos of your emotions threatened to drag you down again into the abyss. The memories of your attempted act tormented you, making you relive the darkness that you had tried so hard to escape. You wondered how you got to that point, how you got so overwhelmed by the pain that you wished it was over.

As you watched the tent in silence, you thought back to the words that the one who saved you had addressed to you, words full of understanding and hope. His voice rang in your mind, like a lighthouse in the night, trying to guide you to a way out of that maze of despair.

"if you really don’t have anyone, then let me be your people, introduce you to mine and make them yours. I will be your friend, your sister, your family and a companion to cry on if it is necessary. But I won’t let you disappear" , "You cannot let go like this. You cannot let the dark take over… "

His words continued to echo in the walls of your mind, the urge to reject them was strong, but at the same time you knew there was a glimmer of truth in those words. A lonely tear turned your face unmoved, happy to be alone so that no one would see you cry again. The shadow of anger and resentment persisted in you as you erased his eyes and his face from your mind, attaching these words to him, that they were inevitably intertwining with a faint flame of hope ched in his little he had fed with a brief conversation.

You sighed deeply as you leaned your head on the pulled fabric of the curtain, trying to fend off that tornado of overwhelming feelings that the boy had sown in you. You decided to give yourself the opportunity to face your demons, but without being helped, you would have defeated your demons just so you could leave in peace.

The words of the Omatikaya boy could not erase your past and your pain, but perhaps they had unconsciously opened a window into the future, a future you thought you did not deserve and where hope and joy could still shine.

Suns began to fall on the horizon, painting the sky with pinkish and purple shades. The village was animated outside the tent in view of the eclipse, while families joyfully gathered in the center of the village to share the dinner as usual.

A voice crept into the solitude of the place where you were still sitting, drawing your attention with a calm yet concerned tone. "Can I come in?"

His words were warm, but you stiffened feeling cold chills hitting your back. You still felt the weight of his actions, the way your will had been ignored to save you from something you didn’t want to be saved from.

"No, leave me alone." You spit bitterly, cold and resolute, closing yourself in once again, hoping to be heard at least this time.

He hesitated for a moment, but then entered the tent with caution, trying not to disturb the dark and tense atmosphere that surrounded you. The dim light of the natural lamps began to light up gradually due to bioluminescence, casting some soft shadows on the skin walls.

"I thought you might be hungry…" he whispered softly and patiently. He was holding a small basket of food that the village had prepared for dinner. The inviting scent of food spread in the air, making you strive to ignore it, keeping your eyes away.

"I’m not hungry. You can leave now." Hissing as your stomach seemed to close to his concern and kindness. He laid the basket on the ground, cautiously approaching you.

"You have to feed your body. Please, just take something," he insisted as he stretched your food, keeping his distance.

You looked up at him, growling, the anger still present in your vitreous gaze. "Don’t you understand?" Your face was stiff, with a still palpable hostility. You squeezed on yourself, creating an invisible barrier between you two. "I don’t want your food." hissing with a grudge voice. "I don’t want anything from you."

The Na'vi’s gaze softened further, though he felt some remorse against his golden irises.

"I know it may seem difficult to accept my help, again… but please don’t deny yourself what you need because of me" he says with a tender voice, trying to make you understand that his gesture is motivated by concern and care. "Eating is a way to take care of your body and start healing. Please try to accept, do it for yourself." his firm, yet compassionate voice, hoping to find your consent.

You stared at the food in front of you, struggling with your inner resistance. After a moment of hesitation, a small sigh escapes from your lips.

You reached the food with your fingers trembling and swiped a piece of teylu towards your mouth. The first bite was reluctant, but slowly the taste and feeling of nourishment run through your mouth like a waterfall. The man’s sweet eyes lingered over you, smiling softly when he saw that you were finally letting him in somehow.

You gave him an indecipherable look as you chewed, with an ounce of admiration mingling with your strong resentment. Perhaps a small, hidden part of you wished for him to stay, believing that someone could still see past your wound.

While dinner was now taking place in the center of the village, you two remained in the tent, enveloped by the tension and uncertainty of the moment. He stood quietly watching you eat, making sure you really fed well.

"You must go, your village is dining…" whistling as you looked away from him, grabbing a yovo fruit, feeling the sweetness pinch your taste buds while the aromatic juice made you close your eyes nostalgically.

"I can eat later. now it is important that you eat" He answered gently, while yet another smile painted on his face, warming your heart in some strange way. "However, you can call me Neteyam" he whispered, offering his name to your ears.

You looked up, and your eyes seemed slightly more present. The sound of his name strangely resonated in your mind, sweet and melodious, like a caress to your ears.

"Ne-te-yam…Neteyam" you repeated in a low voice, experiencing the sweetness of the syllables of his name on your tongue.

Neteyam smiled again, spontaneously, as a light of joy lit in his eyes as you repeated his name without disgust or hostility. He had decided to share his name in the hope that it might be the first thread that could join you.

"Yes, Neteyam." he repeated, looking at how you seemed to want to engrave that name in your memory. His name gave you a strange feeling of calm.

You looked away from him, looking at the food you were tinkering with between your exiled fingers. "Thank you, Neteyam…" You whispered with a thread of voice and then filled your mouth again. You didn’t specify what you were grateful to Neteyam, but he warmed his heart to hear your words, feeling more relaxed in his presence.

The silence enveloped the tent, only the sound of your breaths and the rustling of the leaves outside could break the stillness. Neteyam put a hand on your head, stroking the braids, a tender contact that served to remind you that you were no longer alone, that there was someone who cared for you.

Your eyes crossed Neteyam’s honeyed eyes, needing no further words at that time. Your expressions, your looks, say enough, and time seemed to slow down in the quiet.

The eclipse gave way to the night, and the air outside the tent was filled with deep serenity. The village could now be heard again in the distance, and the sounds of their merriment were present, as the forest began to fall asleep with the calls of nocturnal animals.

"y/n" you revealed at your turn, breaking the silence. Your voice finally slightly warm, as if your name was still something dear to you. " My name is Y/n.." Your voice floated like a melody, a sound that intertwined with serenade night nature.

Neteyam was struck by the beauty of your name, not expecting you to return the presentation as he looked at you with eyes shining with something you couldn’t recognize.

"Y/n…" Neteyam whispered, echoing your name reverently. His face glowed with a new light, as if the name had unleashed something magical inside him. "I’m glad to meet you, Y/n" replied softly with a smile. "You have a very nice name" His voice is a gentle symphony that intertwined with the melody of the night outside the tent.

You nodded without smiling back. The wind blew lukewarm air outside the tent, bringing with it a slight air of unease. The interior of the marui was enveloped in a peaceful atmosphere, while you and Neteyam exchanged silent glances of understanding, needing no words while you finished dining.

However, the serenity and harmony that was being created between you was shattered by the entrance of a young woman whom you recognized as Tsakarem because of the clothing, hair and jewelry typical of her role. The figure with the regal bearing and the face twisted by annoyance made her appearance, as she approached with disgusted step by your figure.

Her eyes were full of annoyance, anger and perhaps jealousy as she watched the scene in front of her. She immediately noticed you, staring at you with apprehension and surprise, if not with much disgust and superiority.

"Look at that! The tspangoe is awake." Her voice was sharp and cold as a blade, as she spoke her words sarcastically. Her attitude was full of contempt, as if she considered you little more than a nuisance, an intruder in her territory who robbed her of precious time with her partner.

"Tsu'Län." He called her in cold voice, annoyed at her turning to you with so little respect. He stood up to face the woman with a nervous and tense expression.

"What, ma yawentu? I’m not saying anything wrong. I just expressed my surprise that the Tspangoe is alive and awake." She raised an eyebrow as she spoke in a feigned, challenging tone, waiting for Neteyam’s reaction.

"Don’t call her like that." Neteyam’s voice was loud and firm, as he was quietly devouring his partner. "Y/N. Her name is Y/n and now that you know it, use her name to address her."

Tsu'Län was a woman of a charming beauty and an enviable bearing, with long braids covered with feathers and jewels identifying the title, but there was a cold and petty aura surrounding her. Her hard eyes shook you, emitting an obvious contempt followed by a grimace.

"Ah, so you named your Tspangoe. Interesting. Very nice of you to welcome her among us after you…found her in the forest" Your face shrank in disgust at her words and then growl at her, receiving the same reaction. It disgusted you that she was judging you without even knowing you. Even though you knew you were a 'tspangoe', you didn’t think anyone would ever tell you that to your face with so little delicacy.

"It’s her name, I didn’t give it to her. Don’t reduce her to a definition, this isn’t you." Neteyam’s tone made clear his intent to come to her senses and take back the words she had just spoken to you.

Tsu'Län burst into a cold, cynical laugh as she bent over with laughter and carried a hand to touch her lips, amused by the words of her partner. "I don’t see why we should worry about a Tsapngoe" she said with contempt and then looked down on you "Exactly since when we started helping these… people. Ma Yawnetu, I will always love you but I don’t expect to share your affection with this… thing."

Your heart tightened within seconds when your mind was finally enlightened, realizing that the two of them were paired and that this meant that Neteyam was the son of the Olo'eyktan and next in the line of succession. You knew the Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya clan because he was the legendary Toruk Makto, so the weight of what you were experiencing became even heavier.

You raised your head, looking at her as if her words hadn’t even touched you, looking at her in the same way she did at you. You wouldn’t let some random Na'vi knock you down and humiliate you like this.

"I don’t want to take your 'Yawnetu', nor rob you of his… affection?" you answered firmly, mocking her subtly for her insecurity. "I didn’t ask to be involved in this situation, but I’m only here because Neteyam chose to save me. It was his choice to bring me here, not me. So you can get out of this tent and bring him if you wish. But don’t disrespect me, Tsu'Län" Your tone full of superiority and dignity, so much so that it made the young woman grit her teeth.

Neteyam tried to intervene again, trying to reach an agreement between the two of you, but it was clear that Reyin'al is not going to listen reasons and that you would not bend your head. Two unstoppable furies, she’s determined to enforce her claim to Neteyam and humiliate you, and you’re determined to put her back where she belongs.

"Tsu'Län, stop it. Even if you do not like her presence here, she remains a Na'vi and as such deserves respect and understanding" He stood before her, watching her soured because of her behavior, starting to lose patience.

The Tsakarem laughed again, a sharp laugh full of contempt. "Respect and understanding? For a na'vi who tried to take her own life? I don’t think so. The Tspangoe lose all rights when they become such and you know it better than I do" Her gaze fixed on you with disgust. She seemed to enjoy every word she hurled at you, trying to erode your confidence and confidence, abnormal traits for Tspangoes.

"Keep your hopes up, little tspangoe. Sooner or later you will return to the abyss from which you came out, and Neteyam will understand how wrong he was to save you." She said as she approached you, leaning on your person, amused by your look upset by his words.

You instinctively took her from the braids, making her fall to the ground while you watched her with a newfound flame, but of anger. You could have overlooked the slight insults, but even you knew that enough was enough.

Your fingers tightened the braids, tearing off some of the feathers that adorned her hair, as she gasped out of pain, hitting your arm to free herself from the vise.Neteyam tried to get closer but stopped when he saw your burning look on her.

"Listen carefully. I don’t know who has spoiled you to the point where you believe that you can treat people the way you want just because of your status. But do not believe for a second that you can address me in these tones, of your title I can not care less. A Tsakarem lives under the guidance of Eywa more than anyone other than Tsahìk, try to live up to your title, nothing is due to you. You respect me, and I will try not to make you cry all the tears that you never shed, okay?" you hissed at her ear, before you let go of your grip and make her fall at Neteyam’s feet, that in the while he had watched the scene in silence. He knew your reaction had been a little excessive, but only Eywa knew how much he wanted to put her in her place like that when she was being a bitch.

One of the few privileges of having reached the point of reaching the bottom, is that empathy was your master and only guide, so you could not care about things like the status and moral codes of the Na'vi.

Tsu'Län stood back as she watched as some of her feathers remained in your hand and growled at you, massaging her sore braids.

"Remember, Tspangoe, this is my territory." her impatient and threatening voice made you smile internally, amused by the fact that she still tried to frighten you. You shrugged and then growled at her and pushed her back, annoyed, before she went out and left.

Neteyam looked back at you, not realizing that you had this strong spirit under that dark veil that shrouded you. You lay down on the carpet, giving your back to the boy before you snort. "You go too, now."

Within minutes, that woman had managed to ruin the little thread that Neteyam had managed to wrap around you, to get you close to him. And now he seemed to have returned to the starting point, making him frustrated and angry with his companion who had been petty and disrespectful.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, things between Y/n and Neteyam are still sour but you can see the soft spot of Y/n.

While I would like to hug Neteyam because he is so cute, please. So boyfriend coded

- Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

#Let me Love you Neteyam #Mel's Avatar Garden #Mel's Neteyam Garden #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam smut #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #avatar ff #neteyam fic #neteyam fanfiction #avatar neteyam #avatar smut #avatar #avatar x you #avatar x reader #avatar x y/n #avatar x na'vi reader #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x you #atwow neteyam #netyam sully #neteyam fluff #Avatar #avatar fluff #fluff

[etherealising]

chapter seven | they know i believed in us last week

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader | platonic!pete x fem!reader | male!oc x fem!reader |

summary: carmy struggles to deal with your absence in his life, while you finally learn to live without him.

warning(s): talk about miscarriage (no explicit details) | word miscarriage used once | implied suicidal thoughts | substance abuse | NA | AA | Al-Anon | grief | mention of pregnancy |angst | drama | semi-fluff | language | sad boi carm | baby being mature | woe is me carmy | please let me know if i missed anything |

wc: 7.3k

song rec: i'll still have me - cyn, aquilo

semi-edited/proof-read

“Carm hey, are you listening?” Natalie’s eyes flitted across Carmy’s face, his blank eyes staring directly past her. She took this moment as a chance to take in her younger brother’s ragged appearance, at first glance he looked like he normally did; exhausted. But taking the time to really study him, she knew Carmy was doing worse than he’d ever admit.

His usual textured and fluffy hair was limp against his head, the greasy quality of it proving he needed a wash. The discoloration under his eyes was the worst Nat had seen it, the deep blue-purple bruising a sign that he was getting even less sleep than he usually did. The skin of his lips was dehydrated and bitten to pieces, a tick he had as a child that gradually calmed down as he grew older. And the visible stubble on his chin was enough to know that the absence of your presence in his life was hitting him harder than anyone expected.

Her eyes caught on the chain that was haphazardly peeking out of his shirt, squinting at the newly added pendant hanging from it. Natalie didn’t have to be a genius to know whose initial hung around Carmen’s neck, the chain which was usually safely tucked into his shirt was now blatantly on show for everyone to see. Natalie had noticed it more recently since your and Carmy’s argument, though this was her first time seeing it this close. She would find him just standing in the restaurant, sometimes eyes staring into nothing as he worried the pendant between his fingers, oftentimes raising it to his lips before letting it go completely and wandering to do whatever task needed to be done.

Natalie’s concern was palpable but the discomfort in her abdomen was worse. “Have you tried talking to her?” The shaky breath she let out filtered between the two of them.

Carmen’s eyes finally snapped to hers taking in the uncomfortable expression on her face, “Sug?” He waited for Nat to focus on him. “You good?” The question hung in the air as Natalie tried to even out her breathing.

Using his sister's obvious discomfort to deflect from the conversation she was insistent on having wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but he’d rather put his sister’s well-being before being forced to think about how long it had been since he last spoke to you; he last saw you.

Carmy watched as Sug raised a closed hand to her mouth suppressing the urge to gag. “Yeah good, I’m good.” The forced smile on her lips did nothing to fool Carmy, but he wouldn’t force the issue.

“Can you uh, explain to me again how we’re doing, I spaced.” His fingers raised to run through his hair a small grimace painting his face at the grime he could feel left behind on his fingertips.

“Seven weeks out, Carm, and still so much to be done,” An exhausted sigh breathed through Natalie’s lips. The stress opening this restaurant caused felt extremely unnecessary considering her current status.

“No yeah I heard that,” Carmy nodded his head rapidly, Sug’s words slowly coming back to him. He squinted his eyes, hand scratching the grown-out stubble on his chin.  “You uh said something about the DBA getting rejected?”

“About that.” Natalie’s voice trailed off one hand pressing into her abdomen to ease the ache, “The name’s taken.”

Nat watched as Carmy processed the words, her discomfort felt like it was increasing as the seconds passed by.

“Who the fuck could’ve taken the name?” The idea perplexed Carmy. There was no chance another business could have the same name, well there was, it was just slim as hell.

Nat shrugged just as confused as Carmy “It’s been trademarked for years, whoever filed has all legal rights to the name.”

“Fuck me!” The pitch of Carmy’s voice rose along with his irritation.

Natalie’s own mumbled expletive was drowned out by Carmy’s outburst, the nauseating morning sickness she was experiencing came in an extra hard bout today.

“Yo, Sug…Sug. You sure you’re okay?” Carmy’s concern now outweighed his confusion, Nat’s weird behavior this whole morning was beginning to worry him.

“I can do this Carmy right, tell me I can do this.” Natalie’s breathing began to increase as a slight panic flooded through her. Carmy watched her with wide eyes, no idea what she could even be talking about.

“Tell me I can do it, Carm!” The wave of nausea subsided with her yell, Carmy’s hands raised in the air to divert blame.

“Fuck okay! You can do it Sug.”

“I am…completely terrified. And I’m only telling you because..I don’t know. Just-just in case.” Natalie nodded to herself as a way to provide her nerves with courage.

Carmy just stared at Natalie still not following where she was leading this conversation to.

“I really want this to be loving and good and happy,” A smile rose to Nat’s face “I just..I don’t want anyone to know…well besides Baby and now you.”

Carmy’s eyes focused on Sug’s abdomen, the pieces of the puzzle slowly fitting together in his head. The name she spoke felt like it was echoing through his ears.

“Sure” He wasn’t sure how to react to the news, he had always assumed Natalie would be the first of the siblings to start a family. And as the years passed by he knew it was a desire he himself had.

“I really don’t want Richie to know. Because somehow, it feels more in my control when and who knows…” The sound of the wall falling caused Nat to raise her voice as she finished her sentence. “That I’m pregnant.” Her final words were spoken just loud enough to alert the crew to her news.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” The sound of Richie’s shout grated on Nat’s nerves, but the quiet congratulations helped to ease her ire a bit.

Carmy was happy for Sugar, but it felt like it was setback after setback for the restaurant and all the personal issues he was dealing with weren't helping his stress. He felt his shoulders sag a bit mind racing as to how the name could already be trademarked, or who would’ve trademarked it.

His eyes found Richie’s as the man cajoled about how he knew Natalie was pregnant this whole time. Had Richie told someone the name and they took it for themselves? Did Mikey somehow trademark it while on a bender? The thought made Carmy’s head hurt what the fuck even was the point of opening this restaurant if they couldn’t use the name. The name was the epitome of the restaurant.

If you were here Carmy knew you would've given him an analogy for how he was feeling, you would’ve told him he was like Atlas holding up the sky or whatever he did. He shook his head trying to rid himself of thoughts of you, it wasn’t helping him in the least.

As much as he’d rather not converse with Richie, he needed to get to the bottom of this trademark business.

“Yo, Cousin!” The words felt wrong escaping Carmy’s lips the two men avoided each other in the same way you avoided Carmen.

The agitation on Richie’s face was instant, Carmy knew he fucked up with you, but the cold shoulder he was getting from Richie felt unnecessary.

Nat watched as the two men locked eyes, not too keen on playing referee for these two again. She looked in Carmy’s direction as Richie began making his way over, trying to gauge what was going through her little brother's mind.

“Carmen,” Richie nodded in acknowledgment to Carmy. Richie would be lying if he said he wasn’t purposefully using Carmy’s government name to rile him up, he knew how much Carmy hated it when you did it, and since you weren’t here someone had to uphold the tradition.

Carmy felt his eye twitch Richie’s immaturity since the argument with you felt never-ending. “Did Mikey ever trademark the name?”

Richie frowned looking between him and Nat the assumption that he had any goddamn clue laughable “What the fuck did Mikey look like trademarking shit? Wasn’t I just slangin’ crack to keep the lights on?”

Carmy’s eyes shut as Nat let out a quiet gasp, watching as Richie raised his hands in defense. Maybe running a back alley drug ring wasn’t the best for business, but without it, they may not have been in this moment renovating the restaurant.

“Well someone fucking trademarked it, Richie.” The attitude Carmy was catching was wholly unwelcome.

“I don’t like your tone, Carmen,” Richie matched Carmy’s energy giving him what he was getting. “All I’m sayin’ is Mikey didn’t trademark it whoever did might…I dunno hypothetically deserve an apology in return for said documents.”

Carmy was at his wits end with the older man “Oh so you’re the fucking Riddler now.”

“Baby trademarked the name?” Nat’s voice traveled between the trio at the same time as Carmen’s snarky remark. Carmy’s head shot to her, confused as to how she concluded you had anything to do with the conversation at hand.

“Bingo!” Richie’s hands came together in a loud clap Sydney rolled her eyes at the obnoxious man before looking over the various work orders. “She did that shit years ago and gave it to Mikey as a present, he…left it for her when he passed.”

A quiet fell over their small group, each of them taking in the gesture. Richie had only become privy to the present when he went through the office to try and make sense of what the hell Mikey was doing to keep the business up and running. He had knocked a framed picture of your group off the desk cleaning up the mess only to find the folded trademark document in the back of the broken picture frame.

Your name was haphazardly scribbled into the back of it.

Carmen’s chest heaved as he let the news wash over him, it seemed since the two of you had your falling out the universe was continuously pushing him to interact with you. He raised his hand to his face, rubbing it up and down as he added another item to the long list of things going wrong with the restaurant.

In a way, learning that you were responsible for trademarking the name made Carmy’s chest feel warm. It felt like you wanted this for Mikey just as much as he did, the two of you both supporting Mikey in ways the other never knew. It also gave him an excuse to speak with you, not that he needed one. If he was a better man he would’ve already worked up the courage to reach out to you. He could feel a headache coming on the more he thought about trying to fix things with you.

Carmen was sure he’d figure things out soon, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could figure things out with you not by his side. Which he would admit was quite ironic considering all the times he had willingly pushed you away. But being pushed away by you had proven to him just how badly he was screwing things up with you, to hear you be so upset by his actions he basically forced you into confessing your love stung him to his core.

Carmy wasn’t exactly sure what love was supposed to feel like, but he was almost positive it wasn’t this. The ache in his chest from not being around you, looking for you in every crowd he was in. Soaking up any conversation your name was mentioned in. Maybe he did know what love was supposed to feel like, because for all the time he had been in love with you, he had never once felt so completely and utterly broken as he had been since not fighting for your love a year ago like he should have.

“That was Nat,” you looked up as Pete returned to the table, a smile growing on your face at how happy he looked to have been speaking with his wife. “Cat’s out of the bag! Our pregnancy is no longer top secret!”

Pete’s excitement was contagious, your smile growing wider at his pure joy. “Our pregnancy?” You chuckled never having heard anyone refer to it as if the pregnancy was shared.

You watched as Pete sipped the water in front of him, a signature goofy smile back on his face. “Of course! I mean yeah Nat is carrying the baby, but I’m just as pregnant as she is.” You gave Pete a confused look, a laugh bubbling out of you.

“You laugh now Baby, but I’m serious.” Pete paused as the waiter brought out the bread for your table, both of you quickly thanking them. “Nat’s my partner you know? And I’m so grateful for her providing me the opportunity to be a father. Allowing me to build with her, for us to come together and bring a child into this world, it’s a beautiful thing I love her ya know.”

The sheen in Pete’s eyes was enough to make you emotional you didn’t need to hear his explanation to know how much Pete loved Natalie, you could just see it in the way he looked at her, in the way his face would light up when anyone would mention her name or ask about her.

“I’m happy that Nat has someone like you to build a life with.” Both you and Pete shared misty-eyed smiles, chuckles leaving each of you at how emotional the small things made both of you.

“Looks like that dinner you were planning just turned into a full-blown baby shower!” The loud clap Pete’s hands made startled you. “Wow, it really will be a Baby shower!”

You watched as Pete laughed at his own pun, doing your best not to laugh along with him and encourage his bad jokes. The relationship you developed with Pete was a bit weird in the beginning, you weren’t the most open to the idea, and it’s not because you didn’t like Pete, it just felt like you were replacing Mikey.

It took a while before you could look at Pete and realize he wasn’t trying to replace Mikey’s role in your life, and that the drugs and paranoia had driven you to that conclusion. Pete was a great man, standing by Natalie’s side while she fought to keep you alive. Probably being more accepting than someone else may have been when he and Nat decided to help you. Pete and Natalie both put aside their own lives to help you get better, and get back on your feet, and while part of you wished Mikey was around to ground you as well, Pete’s love and kindness didn’t deserve to be taken for granted.

“That dinner was supposed to be a surprise for you too Peter,” you shot him a tiny glare before reaching for some bread. “I just wanted you both to have a nice night off together, no stress.” The reservation had already been made, but thinking about Pete’s words and the excitement when explaining most everyone knew about the pregnancy, maybe it would have been best for an intimate shower for the two soon-to-be parents.

Pete was definitely a family guy and Natalie came from a big family, maybe a shower would be for the best. Surround them with people who loved and supported them and just allow everyone to bask in the happiness the joyous news brought, you were sure everyone could use a break.

“Okay hypothetically say I put together a small shower for the two of you, is that even something Nat would want?” Sure you knew Nat but Pete was her husband and this was their moment, you didn’t want to ambush her with a party she never wanted.

You watched Pete bristle a little, a nervous smile raised to his lips, “I uh I’m not sure if Nat ever told you but she kinda had this…this whole dream about the two of you,” you frowned confused at what Pete was talking about.

“Well not like an unconscious sleeping dream, more like a-an idea?” Pete’s voice rose at the end of his sentence, not sure if the question in his tone was meant for you or him.

“Pete bud you lost me.” You gave him a small nod of encouragement awaiting his response.

“Um so…after your uh…loss,” a sad smile rose to Pete’s lips, you could see the apology in his eyes. “Nat she uh…she confided in me about how she always wanted to be the one to throw you a shower if you ever decided to have children. And if-when we had our own she’d want you to be in charge of hers…if you wanted to not like she would force you.” The nervous huff of laughter from Pete hung in the air for a minute.

The admission perplexed you, Nat had never brought this up to you directly and maybe it was because she felt like she couldn’t. You weren’t the most open when it came to the topic of your miscarriage always avoiding the conversation whenever Nat tried to breach it.

“Baby…you’re the closest thing Natalie has to a sister. I can promise she would be ecstatic no matter what decision you choose.”

You nodded, the motion happened unconsciously as you tried to take in everything Pete had laid on you. Of course, there were things Nat wouldn’t share with you, but while the two of you were like sisters you didn’t expect her to share every little detail with you. As you let Pete’s words digest you couldn’t help the warm feeling beginning to flood through your body, if you were being honest you weren’t sure if it was the best idea to be throwing anyone a baby shower, but you also knew Natalie deserved to be celebrated, not only for the life she and Pete were creating together, but also for all the work she was doing to ensure that The Bear had a fighting chance.

“Okay,” your head continued its up-and-down motion. “Yeah okay let’s do it but I’m going to need your help, Pete.” You watched the smile on his face increase tenfold, your own wide smile spreading your lips due to how contagious Pete’s joy was.

“Anything and I mean anything Baby, I am your guy.” Pete’s giddiness warmed you even more, you didn’t think you had ever been surrounded by anyone with such a positive attitude before. In the beginning, when Natalie and Pete first began dating, his electric personality was a bit much but you found yourself always trying to make Pete feel included, especially with how off-putting the rest of the Berzatto clan could be.

And when you were recovering it was almost like you had to re-acclimate yourself to Pete’s personality. Your recovery was hard, there were some days you weren’t even sure if you wanted to get better or if you wanted oxygen to continue filling your lungs. But Pete was so positive and always looking at life and your situation with a ‘glass half full’ mentality, that his constant belief in you helped to make the hard days easier.

A small sigh escaped your lips as you readied yourself for the question you were about to ask. “Pete, do you think you could give me Carmen’s number?” You tried not to roll your eyes as you saw Pete’s own light up, you were almost positive he would be telling Nat about this topic of conversation. “Before you get any ideas, I just need it to invite him to the shower.” You raised your hands in defense hoping Pete wouldn’t look into this any more than he already was.

“No can do B, the idea train has already left the station.” His fingers drummed on the table with excitement. “But I will do you one better,” you frowned as you watched Pete pick up his phone, fingers skating across the screen before he held it up to show you. A call to Carmen already going through as Pete sent you a thumbs-up.

You looked at the screen eyes wide, the shock temporarily paralyzed for a moment. The quiet sound of the ringing between the two of you brought you back. “Pete! Hang up the phone.” Your voice was terse as you spoke trying not to draw too much attention from other patrons.

Pete laughed, “He never answers my calls anyway.” Pete’s words irritated you, but you were glad to see the call go to voicemail before Pete pressed the end call button and set his phone down.

You let out a surprised laugh, Pete had definitely been too influenced by the Berzattos during his time with Natalie. The little stunt he just pulled was something you knew both Richie and Mikey would do if given the chance.

“Baby?” Your head raised eyes meeting Pete’s, “I know this may sound selfish, but I…I need you to figure out this thing between you and Carmen.” Your eyebrows furrowed the need to defend yourself hitting you full force, you opened your mouth to respond but stopped as Pete raised his hand, a signal to let him continue.

“I know Baby, I know. I’ll be honest with you, as much as I love Nat’s family I think you should’ve given up on Carmen a long time ago.” Your jaw fell slack, and Pete’s eyes widened a bit. “No, no just for your own wellbeing, your peace of mind.” You began nodding as Pete explained himself better. “I just, whatever is going on between you and Carmen, it’s affecting Nat. And she won’t tell you because you deserve to feel how you feel, but with the baby and the restaurant…she doesn’t need to play "Fix it Felix” with you and Carmen right now.”

You let out a small chuckle at Pete’s explanation, over the years he had begun expressing himself to you more. You being the only one on Natalie’s side who actually gave him the time of day and willfully listened to him, helped him to gain more confidence when around the rest of the Berzattos. You reached for your glass of water, taking a long sip before setting it down.

“Thank you, Pete, for being honest,” you sighed, finger playing with the condensation on your cup. “If I’m being honest, it's easy to forget that Nat’s in the middle of everything. She’s so good at pretending it doesn’t affect her.” A rueful smile rose to your lips, as great as a friend as Natalie had been to you through everything, you weren’t sure the same could be said for yourself. “You’re right, Carmen and I are adults, we should be able to figure this out ourselves. I’ll…I’ll call him, figure things out.” You sent Pete a small smile.

Recently it felt like Natalie and Pete nursed you back to health and then for some reason became your surrogate parents. You didn’t think there was anything wrong with leaning on them, the three of you did endure a traumatic experience together so it was understandable. But maybe you had become too comfortable and relied on them too much to ‘fix’ your life. You could understand where Pete was coming from and he had every right to put his wife’s well-being before the feelings of his friends.

You knew Natalie and Pete would be amazing parents and of course, Nat’s fears were valid. But you had seen firsthand just how loving, caring, and kind the couple was, and while that wasn’t all that went into raising a child it was like a part of you just knew that their child would be in great hands.

“Enough about my poor life choices Pete, have you guys thought of any names?” The timing of the question couldn’t have been more perfect, Pete perked up at the question, eyes glazing over with excitement. A waiter stopped by your table to deliver your entrees as Pete began animatedly explaining his and Nat’s process for picking names.

A part of you ached at how happy Pete was, if things were different, maybe in another life you would’ve been able to see that excitement on another man’s face. Maybe the two of you would’ve come up with your own system for picking out names.

You listened as lunch continued, no matter how many times the thought had crossed your mind, you would always be grateful that Natalie had found a partner to love her in the ways she deserved.

 It was silent between you and Cortez as you made your second lap around the block, the church in the distance behind you. Your hands were preoccupied with a warm disposable cup of hot cocoa as Cortez gingerly sipped his choice of tea. This had become the routine for your meetings with your sponsor, the two of you would meet at the bodega a little ways away from the church that housed both AA and NA meetings. Then continue your meeting with a few circles around the block before ending at the church stairs when all was said and done.

The air was tense between the two of you, Cortez hadn’t taken kindly to your decision to skip out on the few check-ins that you had asked for. In the beginning, you were in constant contact with Cortez, feeling the match between the two of you out. As you progressed through recovery and got back into the routine of daily life the daily talks between the two of you began to dwindle as you settled into life as a recovering addict.

But after that initial meeting at The Beef, being in Carmen’s presence again, surrounding yourself with Richie and the life you once knew, the meetings with Cortez picked back up in frequency. And you were doing fine for some time, the man meeting with you when you needed it, always willing to speak with you whenever you asked and it was helpful, god was it helpful. But then you made it to step nine, step eight in the recovery program was its own monster that Cortez helped you through especially when it came to who didn’t need to be on your list.

You made the decision to text Cortez after admitting your faults to Richie. As great as it felt to finally be open with Richie and let him into your life, it also brought with it the urge to use again. Richie had been kind enough to take the bottle of champagne off your hands that night, but the desire to call Fak and ask if Theo had anything he could spare almost won out. But as you scrolled through your contacts the red icon hovering over the voicemail tab brought you back to your senses.

“So your friend Richie knows?” Your eyes shot to Cortez taking in his side profile before focusing back on their attention focused on the steaming paper cup of coffee gripped in their hands.

“Yeah, his daughter kind of spilled the beans.” You nodded playing with the frayed edges of your jeans.

“That’s a bit fucked up don’t cha think?” Cortez’s brows furrowed. “I mean how does his little girl know but he don’t that’s gotta hurt.”

You rolled your eyes, “Aren’t you supposed to like not be judgmental?” Cortez’s laugh felt like it was grating on your ears, as good a sponsor as he was, he had the personality of an annoying older brother you were happy not to have.

“It ain’t even judgment though, it’s an observation.” You didn’t have to be looking at him to know that annoying smirk was on his lips as he shrugged his shoulders.

You stopped as Cortez dropped his now empty cup in a trash bin on the street, “Didn’t know you received your inspector gadget certification.”

“That smart ass mouth is bouta be the reason you out here looking for a new sponsor,” you let out a cackle before taking a much-needed sip of your hot cocoa. “Sound like my daughter with that dumb shit.” If you didn’t know the man who was walking by your side, you would’ve thought he was actually upset, but you could tell by the uptick of his lips he didn’t take anything to heart.

The two of you rounded the corner coming up on the church. You watched as Cortez plopped his long limbs down on one of the steps, opting to sit on the railing. Cortez took out his pack of cigarettes bringing the box to his mouth and removing one before offering the box in your direction. You slipped one out a small laugh escaped you at the irony of everything, how you had once been so against the cancer sticks that those around you would make sure not to smoke around you. And then instead of indulging in a nicotine addiction, you turned to alcohol and prescription pills, the fact that you would smoke a cigarette here and there to appease your urges now felt a bit comical.

You leaned forward allowing Cortez to light your cigarette, “Man ain’t nothin’ like smoking on Big G’s doorstep.” Cortez’s voice filled the silence that had settled over the two of you, you took a drag of the cigarette, a small chuckle escaping you with the smoke.

“I used to hate these fucking things.” The disgust on your face was obvious even as the stick hung from your mouth.

“Why you take one every time I offer 'em’ then?” Cortez switched positions leaning his elbows on the step behind him as he stretched his long limbs out in front of them, offering a wave to the few people entering the church for whatever meeting was scheduled to take place.

You shrugged eyes falling to Cortez’s beat-up boots as you sucked the nicotine deep into your lungs, “They’re the same brand Mikey smoked.”

“Damn ma, that shits kinda sad.” The two of you locked eyes before small laughs left the both of you. You had been around Cortez for so long that you’d picked up on his need to turn most anything into a joke. And while in the beginning, it pissed you off, you realized that’s just who he was and that sometimes being able to laugh in serious moments or at your trauma was helpful.

“Nah seriously though better smokin’ these than messin’ with that shit that hooked you in the first place. Know what I mean?” You nodded, finishing off the cigarette in your hand before taking the second cigarette Cortez offered. You knew how these things went and had spent so much time with the man that you learned to read him. Cortez only ever smoked two cigarettes and offered you two if the conversation was gonna be a rough one.

“Where you at with them apologies?” You sighed letting the man light your cigarette one more time, allowing the fumes to warm your lungs.

You dropped from your seat on the railing, your backside had gone numb. You settled yourself to lean against the railing “I mean I told Richie the truth and there were a lot of apologies in that conversation. But I feel like he deserves a better apology.” You shrugged, your attention dropping to Cortez as he listened.

“Ima be honest wit chu, this might be the hardest part of recovery. Shit I know it was f’me admittin’ to my little girl her father was a fuckin’ junkie. But at the end of the day, you gotta remember this recovery shit is for you. If homeboy loves you like a sister like you say he does, all that should matter to him is that yo annoyin’ ass still here. A’ight, ma?” You listened, nodding along to his words. “All you can do is apologize for the shit you did, you can’t control whether people forgive you or not, and remember ain’t nobody gotta fuck with your apology if they don’t want to.”

You let Cortez’s words settle into you, to anyone else his words may not have seemed genuine but this is just who Cortez was. And you knew no matter how nonchalant he sounded he was speaking every word from his heart.

“You still fuckin with that lil dumbass boy?” The question caused you to choke on the last bit of cocoa in your cup.

“We had a falling out, he’s one of the people I have to apologize to though.” The cigarette between your fingers continued to burn. “There’s a lot I still haven’t told him…the substance abuse, the reasons behind my overdose.” An exhausted sigh pushed its way through your lips. It was like one thing after another when it came to you and Carmy.

“Listen I know we ain’t sposed to have like personal relationships and shit, but lemme know what homeboy looks like I’ll get my goons on em’ for you.” Your head fell back in laughter as Cortez raised his fist to under both of his eyes.

“No goons Cortez, please. Wait, have you ever actually put a hit on somebody before?” You obviously didn’t know Cortez as well as you would have if the two of you were friends. But it wasn’t hard to tell that he would get down if need be.

“Why someone say somethin’?” The two of you shared a laugh, the now more frequent people entering the church signifying that your time together was coming to an end.

“Aight, I gotta head in, get shit set up in there. But ima send you the info for Nar-Anon you give that shit to people who still choose to put up with yo ass. You comin' in?”

You shook your head sending him a small smile, “I came to the morning meetings today.”

You nodded in thanks as Cortez stood up, pushing yourself off the railing. You placed the cigarette between your lips leaving your hands open to do the handshake Cortez insisted you did after each meeting. When he first introduced it you were still getting used to the idea of being a recovering addict and thought he was fucking crazy. But you realized he used it as a way to break the serious desolate feeling that some of these meetings ended on, to help bring some light to what was such a dark reality.

At least that’s how he explained it to you, but you were sure he just liked doing the handshake his daughter helped him come up with.

“Ima see you when I see you ma stay straight.” You chuckled before turning on your heel to head to your parked car. Putting the bud of the cigarette out against the trash bin you passed. It was still early, enough time for you to knock out some baby shower shopping before it got too late.

Carmen stopped in his tracks, eyes finding your figure across the street. You were in front of the church that held the Al-Anon meetings he told you about. Maybe you would be attending the one he was here for, his eyes traveled to the man sitting on the steps you were talking to eyebrows furrowing as he realized the vapors leaving your mouth weren’t from your warm temperature, but instead the stick you had raised to your mouth.

“Baby?” The question left his lips in a quiet whisper, he knew it was you standing across the street but it had been a few weeks since your last interaction he was sure he had imagined you. But he would know you anywhere, by scent alone. He couldn’t help the shock at watching you smoke, something you had been so opposed to since the two of you were children. Even going so far as telling Carmy you couldn’t be friends when he smoked his first cigarette at 15, the stalemate barely lasted a day after you realized how dumb the idea was.

Carmy watched as the two of you stood up, his hopes to see you inside dwindling as he watched the two of you begin to part ways, an intricate handshake taking place before you turned to leave. He watched as your figure disappeared around the corner, a quiet ‘shit’ leaving his lips before he darted across the street trying to catch you before you were gone for good.

“Baby! Hey!” His shouts were useless, you were too far gone to have even heard him. “Fuck!” One hand raised to sit on the bill of his cap, the universe seemed like it was doing everything in its power to keep the two of you apart. Or maybe it was just the way things were meant to be.

Carmy turned to see the man you were with still standing in the same spot you left him, eyes narrowed as he took in Carmy’s figure. The man eyed Carmy for a moment longer, sending a head nod his way before turning and entering the church. Carmy was tempted to follow the man and ask about you, but whatever your relationship with the unknown man was, it was none of Carmy’s business.

He sighed eyes shooting up to the sky before taking a deep breath and making his way inside, not wanting to be late and disturb the Al-Anon meeting before it began. Carmy made his way to the room where the meeting usually took place, eyes landing on the same man from outside once more as he greeted members, the sign near the door he stood by signifying it was an NA meeting. Carmy stopped for a moment, eyes darting between the man and the sign he’d just read.

“You lost kid?” Carmy looked at the man brown furrowed as he shook his head, he sent a tight smile the man's way before walking two doors down for his own meeting. Carmen’s brain felt like it was racing a mile a minute. If you weren’t coming to the Al-Anon meeting, why were you here? And why were you talking with someone who appeared to be leading NA meetings?

The vibrating of his phone caught his attention, the device easily slipped out of his pocket. He felt the air leave his lungs as your name flashed across his screen, he realized just how indecent setting that Polaroid picture of you with his chain on might have been now that he was in public, but it’s not like he ever thought you’d call him.

How’d you even get his number?

“Carmen, hey, we’re about to start your coming?” His head shot up to one of the usual who attended these meetings and would talk to him on occasion.

“Yeah uh, just give me a minute.” Carmy gave a tight smile, eyes flashing back to his phone finger moving to swipe across the screen, the call abruptly ending before he even got the chance to hear your voice. Carmen was sure he had the worst luck in the world, a defeated sigh leaving him, he was almost positive there was no chance you were calling him back.

Quickly putting his phone on Do Not Disturb and in the safety of his jacket pocket, he entered the meeting, as much as he wanted to drop everything and fix things with you. He wasn’t even sure what you had called him for. Carmen also knew it was for the best to attend the meeting,

Carmen was sitting in his car allowing it to warm up as he waited. The skyline began to reflect the sunset, the time on the dashboard letting him know it was around dinner time. He fished his phone out of his pocket mindlessly checking the notifications he’d gotten while in the meeting.

Carmy’s brows furrowed at the flurry of messages he received from a group chat he wasn’t aware he was a part of. He frowned as he opened it, your contact is one of the many in the text chain. The only contact with a photo was yours, making you easily distinguishable, he realized the rest of the people in the chat were the restaurant crew. He scrolled through the messages eyes reading over your message with details about a baby shower, your address included.

Carmy exited out of his messages, unsure of how things were between the two of you. It had been three weeks since the argument and neither of you had tried contacting the other. But here he was with a message from you, and a missed call and he wasn’t sure how to take any of it.

He decided it was a good idea to call you back, and try and feel out the atmosphere between the two of you. His heart felt like it was stuttering in his chest as his finger hovered over his screen; you left him a voicemail. He needed to know what the message said, but a part of him was also worried he might not like what he heard, he had hurt you too many times to count, and if whatever you had to say to him broke him down more than he already was, well then he was sure he deserved it.

Carmen took one last deep breath before clicking on the voicemail and raising the phone to his ear, heart pounding in his chest as he heard the sweet whisper of your voice.

‘Hey Carmen, uh it’s me…Baby. Not sure why I introduced myself. I'm sure you know it’s me.” Carmy let out a watery chuckle at the sound of your voice, even if he hadn't saved your number the delicate timber of your voice would’ve been enough for him.

“Listen uh, I got your number for Pete. I hope you don’t mind, I know you have issues with girls actually having your number…Sorry, that was actually kind of rude. Anyway, I uh…Pete helped put things in perspective for me and I, I think we need to talk Carmen. I’m not sure when or if you even want that, but I think we both deserve a chance to explain our side of things. I um…I also have some things I think you should know. Just, if this is something you’re interested in, you have my number.” Carmen felt his heart rate slow down your words, nothing more than a piece offering.

“I just want to be clear though, um..if I don’t hear back from you, I’m going to take that as a sign. So yeah, call me back or something I guess.” The line finally went silent, your voice no longer caressing Carmy’s ears.

It felt like he was having heart palpitations but he knew it was just his nerves getting the best of him. He pulled the phone away from his ear, the time on his phone reading 5:30 p.m. Carmy quickly opened the group chat scrolling through to find your address and open it up in maps. You lived about 30 minutes from where he was, he was confident he could get there in 20 and spare the 10 minutes at a store near you.

Carmen made his decision as he set his phone down in the cup holder before beginning his journey. The ball was in his court, you had given him an olive branch and it was up to him whether he accepted it or not. He was nervous, maybe showing up at your house to cook you dinner wasn’t his most thought-out plan but he needed you desperately, needed to see you, be in your presence, and know that there was still a chance of something more between the two of you.

The hope Carmy felt when he saw you calling him earlier was now back tenfold: the pendant delicately resting against his chest felt warm. Carmen was adamant that he would admit his love for you tonight, unsure if he could go another day living with the fact that you were in love with him, but you still didn’t know just how much he had always loved you. You were so blissfully unaware that since he could remember, you had been the one and only option in his mind.

a/n: wowza, long time no see. i apologize that this is a bit of a filler chapter but it felt kinda necessary idk. anway please let me know if there are any problems with this chapter it's barely edited. enjoy : )

also also: both richard cabral as coco in mayans and manny montana as rio in good girls inspired cortez the sponsor, but head canon him as whoever you want…okay bye now 🤍

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto x you #the bear x reader #the bear fic #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey, y'all. I've finally moved! So, I'm working on writing right now. I'm so sorry for the long wait; I've been juggling a lot. I hope you like this chapter; we'll get into more drama and romance in the next chapters! Pls remember that reblogs and comments are appreciated! Also feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, insecurity, hurt and comfort, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, discussion of suicide and self harm, mature thoughts, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

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Chapter 8

Bug's POV

It had been two weeks since you and Eddie kissed. Though you both had talked about liking one another, neither of you breached the topic of your relationship. And to be honest, it hadn’t bothered you. You got to enjoy the typical activities with Eddie, plus the bonus of kissing or cuddling. You weren’t worried about labels or anything. Plus it meant you didn’t have to feel so guilty about not going on dates or dressing up. Only something more had developed…

You had begun to have a dilemma of jealousy and embarrassment. 

It began that fateful on the November night that was fading into December, finals approaching viciously. You had overheard from a few classmates that Eddie denied their advances, all of them bitter about the situation. You knew why, but couldn’t help but feel worried. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but you also weren’t nearly as experienced as Eddie. And maybe that sparked something in you. 

You were somehow both relieved and frustrated that Eddie hadn’t tried anything with you yet, curious as to how he would be with you. Some stories…made you sit at the edge of your seat, a gasp in your throat. 

He couldn’t help his reputation, really. 

You knew Eddie would make dirty jokes about enjoying choking with Gareth and even fake moans around Steve to make him disgusted. But he never did that with you. He was always sincere and kind. Tamed? In a way. But some tiny little piece of you, something depraved and lonely, wondered why. 

So you decided to test the waters. 

It started out small, of course. Something like a stupid ‘that’s what she said’ joke.

A few days later it snowballed to a joke revolving around your taste in jewelry and saying “Truthfully, I prefer my necklaces to be more...tight. Like a hand.” 

It was laughable, really. Embarrassing. 

But the straw that officially broke the camel's back?

A joke about Eddie's drawer. 

Eddie and you had been messing around, kissing sometimes and giggling, discussing past embarrassing moments. And that’s when you heard the story of how some guy ran out of Steve and Eddie’s shared apartment when he saw the ‘drawer’. You had rolled your eyes, laughing a bit and teasing Eddie gently. 

“I mean it is a bit slutty of you,” You giggled, curled into Eddie’s side. 

Eddie tickled your side gently, grinning softly, “Hey! We do not slut shame in this house. It’s rude,” He teased, nose scrunched up in the cutest way possible. Your heart skipped a beat. 

You smiled a devious grin and shrugged, standing up. “I wasn’t slut shaming…just…word gets around.” Your stomach was twisting and turning with nerves, your heart pumping. You were pushing it a bit, but wanted to test the waters. 

Eddie raised a brow at you, fighting a smile on his lips, eyes dark and twinkling with mischief. “Oh, does it, now? And what exactly…went around…?” 

You walked around, avoiding his gaze as you stared at the Warhammer minis on his shelf, a delicate finger careful to not touch them. “Oh…ya know…things like…how you’re really good at eating out. Or how you like ropes…and maybe…how you love power dynamics…how you…seem to really love getting people off.” With every phrase falling from your lips you felt more and more giddy and nervous, your heart thumping out of your chest. Your thighs squeezed together to rid the ache between your legs as you pretended to be more interested in his decor. You came to his band posters, some local, some big names. You stared at the art work and tried to avoid the intense feeling of Eddie’s gaze on you. 

“Oh…I see. And how much did you believe of it?,” His voice seemed low and almost like a whisper, but the guttural tones and bass of his vocals made a shiver run down your spine. You tried to hold your ground, walking towards his desk, playing with a fidget cube he kept on his desk for concentration. Your back was still to him. 

“Mmm…not much. I heard a lot of what seemed like exaggeration about how many times you made people…finish.” You breathed out, trying to ignore the trembling in your hands and the feeling of breathlessness consuming you. 

Eddie chuckled darkly and seemed to shuffle about, finally stepping closer to you and tracing delicate fingers up your side. “Do you want to find out if it’s true?” His breath was in your ear, making your skin feel hot and your stomach twist in knots. 

You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant and looking off towards a Metallica poster, chewing on your lip. “I mean, if you want to prove yourself…fine. But there's no way you can make anyone cum that much, no matter how slutty you-”

You found yourself spun around quickly as a pair of strong and calloused hands intertwined into your hair and pulled you in at your waist, his mouth immediately upon yours as he shut you up with the most passionate and panty dropping kiss you had ever experienced. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips encased yours, fireworks going off in your belly. He rubbed his hand at your side, slipping under your shirt to have his cool hand touch your warming skin. He continued to tug at your hair, eliciting little moans from you and making wetness pool in your underwear, your body alight with desire. 

You felt desperate and pathetic, but in the best way. So often you were the caring and overbearing friend, the one who was always the designated driver, the one who worked a thankless job and tried to push others along to succeed. But here, with Eddie, you often felt free to let loose. Free to think less about others and more about yourself. And it seemed that translated into the bedroom too. 

Eddie was leaving your mouth to kiss down your neck, nipping and biting softly, causing you to whimper and claw at his back. He steered you toward what felt like the bed, dropping you onto your back before looming over you. His eyes were dark and his lips pink and swollen from the kissing. His arms were braced on either side of your head as his hair made a curtain around you, your heart beating at the sight of his expression. It was like he was hungry and desperate. 

“You’re so gorgeous…I’m gonna make you see fucking stars,” He growled out, making your body shiver in delight. 

He lifted your shirt off your frame, throwing it to the side as he cupped your breasts, eyes looking at you for reassurance. You nodded, biting your lip. He grinned devilishly, coming in to leaving bruising kisses and bites at your neck, his nimble fingers pinching and playing with your nipples, the desire pooling between your thighs as you squirmed under him. 

“Such a pretty girl…so responsive…,” He groaned out, grinding his hardness into you for a minute while you moaned, before moving down and taking a nipple in his mouth, first giving it teasing licks before he latched on and began sucking and nipping at the bud, making you whine and grip the bedding underneath you, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. You felt like you were on cloud 9. Your thoughts consumed by the goofy metalheads mouth and tongue, pleasure ever growing. You practically lost it when one of his hands traveled south while the other continued playing with your nipple that wasn’t between his teeth, hovering above your mound. 

“Can I touch you, baby? Can I play with your clit?,” He growled out around your nipple, your back arching at his words as you felt your cunt throb. You were mindless. You were putty in his hands. 

“Yes, god please…yes…” 

At that his hands went under your panties, finger quickly finding your sensitive spot and circling it gently. You were squirming, back arching, as his lip popped off your breast obscenely and moved to the other, and his fingers moved to tug at your nipple and keep it hard. At this point you swore you were going to combust. Eddie just kept whispering praise and growling around you, calling you his ‘plaything’ and his ‘girl’. Your back arching as you felt the familiar build, your cunt clenching around nothing as you whimpered, eyes screwed shut. 

“Fu-fuck…’M gonna cum…gonna cum…please please please, Eds,” You clawed at his back, releasing a moan from him as he moved to kiss you, still rubbing at your clit, this time with a bit more ferocity. You felt the pleasure between your legs build and build as you moaned into his mouth, finally snapping as he lightly smacked your clit, growling into your mouth. You saw white, your eyes rolling back as your body shook, gasps and moans escaping your mouth. You laid there, boneless for a moment, eyes shut as you caught your breath. 

Eddie collapsed beside you, sighing out. Your eyes fluttered open to look at him, still trying to catch your breath. 

“I guess…rumors hold…a bit of truth,” You panted, smiling weakly as Eddie chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“That was just a preview…catch your breath because I’m not letting you leave this bed until I’ve had my fill with you,” He whispered, smiling devilishly as he kissed your forehead and your eyes went wide. 

Eddie Munson would be the death of you. 

Once you’d had Eddie’s touch, his kiss…You were insatiable. 

Any moment you had free, you were in his grip. You experienced the ropes, the toys, everything. You now knew exactly what had all the people at Hawkins so hooked onto Eddie, his mere touch making you see stars. You had yet to actually have full penetrative sex, but it was satisfying exploring the space between. 

You hadn’t questioned your relationship, okay with not labeling it for the time. Though it seemed to really bother Steve. 

‘So, you guys finally a thing?’ 

‘He finally popped the lil question?’ 

‘Finally… or am I just hopeful again?’  

The last time he had asked, you were wearing Eddie’s shirt and boxers, cooking breakfast. You shook your head with a smile, laughing at Steve’s groan of frustration after Eddie walked out with a messy bedhead, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. 

Everything was simple and fun. 

And sure, a small part of you hoped soon Eddie would call you his. You knew you were exclusive, and that was great. But some days you had dreamed of hearing the words ‘my girl’ fall from his lips.

But you would settle with the little piece of heaven you were gifted. 

You could always sense a storm before it came. Not a literal storm, but an unfortunate event. Of course it could be argued that your anxiety led you to always sensing a storm, even if one wasn’t oncoming. But you knew the familiar feeling, your belly churning, your heart squeezed, and your head pained by pressure and nerves alike. 

It all started after the afternoon you and Eddie had been cuddling and watching trashy TV, giggling over stupid circumstances. Eddie turned over and looked at you. 

“This may sound weird but…would you be okay if I used you for a song?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Uh, sure…That’s okay,” you replied meekly, heart leaping at the thought of your closest friend and romantic interest with benefits writing something about you. For you. 

He smiled at you, those ice melting dimples causing your mind to turn to goo. You smiled back shyly, snuggling back into the crook of his arm. 

Then your phone buzzed, causing your brow to furrow. 

You looked down at the screen in your hand, seeing a notification from Instagram.

@ChrissytheCutie has followed you!

You felt a sense of confusion and sourness build. You didn’t know the account, but decided to brush it off. You didn’t post much anyways and you knew a bunch of people would just follow you after seeing you went to Hawkins. 

And boy…

Was that a mistake. 

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men @bebe07011 @amira0303 @vintagehellfire @lottie-90 @animechick555

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