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writemekpop · 3 years

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Lipstick On Your Collar (Part 1) | Nakamoto Yuta

Pairing: Nakamoto Yuta x Reader

Summary: Till death do us part... But what happens when he cheats?

Genre: Husband!Yuta, Angst

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Infidelity, Sexual Content, Body Image

Gif: @yuthereal

Part 1 ⭐| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“Ten more minutes, then it’s homework time, alright?” you called to your two older sons, eight and four years old. Caught up in their wooden sword fight, they didn’t even look up.

You smoothed your hand over your face, eyes bruised from lack of sleep. Between your banking job and your three kids, sleep was a rare thing.

Just then, you felt a waft of chill air. Yuta strode in through the front door, his feathery black hair in disarray.

“Hey babe,” you called, shoulders relaxing.

Your husband had this calming presence, your island on a rough ocean. Your chest ached for Yuta’s warmth. You hadn’t hugged, kissed… touched in months.

“Hi, Y/n. We need to talk,” Yuta deadpanned.

You picked up your baby daughter Ayumi. She needed her nappy changed. Bad.

“Alright. What’s up?” You placed her on the changing mat, blowing your fringe out of your eyes.

“I mean in private.” You saw that Yuta’s face was stretched and white. A knot curled in your stomach.

“Nappies?” You lifted your hand. He begrudgingly handed them over.

“Y/n. This is serious.” Yuta’s voice quivered like a taut string.

“Can’t you see I’m busy? What is it?” you snapped. You instantly regretted it. Nowadays, you were always on the edge of an explosion.

“Okay. Fine. I’ve… messed up. And I’m sorry, and I didn’t mean it, but… it’s happened.”

You bin Ayumi’s old nappy, then pull her into your arms. “Is that all? Look, if you’ve broken something, we have insurance.”

“This isn’t a bloody plate! I’ve- I’ve done something awful.”

“Right. Well done. Anyway, I have to help the kids with their homework.”

“Just look at me, Y/n! I’m trying to fucking tell you something!” Yuta’s yell turned your head.

Yuta’s eyes were red-rimmed and wide, like he was in shock. “I… cheated on you, Y/n. I slept with someone else.”

Your heartbeat slowed to a crawl. Instinctively, you pulled your baby close.

“Who is she?”

“Diya. From the school.”

Your lips went numb. You put Ayumi down in her rocker and started rinsing plates in the sink. “How long?”

“Just once. It was a mistake, I swear… it’s just, she was there, and… I didn’t plan it!”

Your chest folded in on itself. While you were kissing your babies to sleep, Yuta was kissing someone else.

“When was it, Yuta?”

“The… day you… went to stay with your sister.”

You’d never forget that day.

It was a few weeks after Ayumi was born. You couldn’t seem to get out of bed, let alone be a good mother. So you’d escaped… just for a day.

While you were breaking apart, Yuta searched out another woman.

“Where?” You picked up the cutlery, letting the hot water scald your skin.

“Her apartment. We met up after work, and one thing led to another… I swear, that was all.”

Images burned into your mind, like a flashed camera. Yuta’s fingernails scraping the back of her neck, like he did to you. Their naked bodies gyrating, sweaty, the smell of sex saturating everything…

Your throat convulsed in a retch. For a second, it was like a brick was hitting your chest.

Then, everything stopped.

You felt a curtain dropping. You didn’t have time to deal with this. Not now. As quickly as they came, the feelings slowed. Drooped. Vanished.

You looked down. You were clenching a table knife so hard it had drawn blood. You let go.

Everything blurred. You felt like a kid again, staring up at yourself from the bottom of a pool.

Your voice was a croak. “Obviously, we’re not telling the kids. My parents are coming next week – so we can’t tell them either.”

You dried your hands and looked up at Yuta. His mouth was hanging open, like a cartoon character’s. It was almost funny.

You continued speaking, bunging toys into a basket.

“If you want a divorce, tell me now, because we’ll have to borrow money. For tonight, I’ll take the bed, you have the couch.”

“What the hell, Y/n?”

You jolt and look up. “Fine! You can have the bed.”

Yuta grabbed your shoulders, knife-cheekboned and wild. “I don’t care about the fucking bed! I just told you I cheated on you. Why aren’t you mad?”

You stared at his hands on your skin, like you didn’t recognise them. Yuta spotted your gaze, and slowly let go.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. I want to fix this. But you need to let me in.”

You looked into his chestnut eyes and frowned. Why was he being so obnoxious?

Slowly, you spelled it out. “You cheated on me. It was with our kids’ tutor, while I was sick. You’re sorry. You won’t do it again. Now can I go and make dinner?”

Yuta blinked. Slowly. Then, he gulped and gave you a slight nod. “Yep.”

You pushed past him, and called out, “Whoever helps mummy with dinner gets ice cream!”

You ushered your eager kids towards the hob. You didn’t look back, but you felt Yuta’s gaze on the back of your head. Stunned.

------

You plastered on your brightest smile all throughout dinner, whilst laying out bedding on the couch for yourself, even whilst tucking your children into bed.

Now, you were sitting in your children’s room, with the lights out. You’d just finished reading their bedtime story. They were fast asleep.

Finally, you let the iron screen lift from your heart. Instead of fighting it, you bared the most vulnerable part of yourself.

It was a memory: you were in Paris with Yuta on the first night of your honeymoon. You were in a mid-range Travel Lodge – the best you could afford – with rain pelting at the windows.

You had woken up at 11AM, tangled up with Yuta from your cuddling. You’d talked, worried, agonised about it, but you’d never had sex with him before.

Yuta opened one sleepy eye and felt your body with his hands, as if he was checking if it was there. You tingled with lust to the tips of your toes. Suddenly, you knew the moment was right.

For once, you didn’t care about your tummy that you always tried to hide, you didn’t care about your thighs which rubbed together when you walked.

You didn’t think about anything, except the feeling of Yuta’s slow kisses, the feeling of him inside of you, the feeling of his hands reaching to the very ends of you.

You were in a hazy, golden pool of completeness. As you gasped your worries, apologies, in each other’s ears, you became whole in a way you’d never known before.

Then, the memory shattered. And in its place, before you could stop it, was the image that was burnt into your eyelids.

It played over and over again, the trailer to a movie of your shame. Yuta in her apartment, the thumping of the bedposts, him between her legs, her exclamations of ‘yes!’, that were only echoed by him moaning her name…

You screamed silently into your fist.

You knew the real reason Yuta cheated on you. Whatever excuses he made, it wasn’t a mistake or a drunk one-off.

You grabbed the soft flesh around your waist. This was why. You thought of the nights you’d told him you were too tired, that you weren’t in the mood. That was why.

You couldn’t even blame Yuta. He was only compensating for the fact that his own wife would never be attractive enough, good enough, just enough for him.

The tears rose up your throat, making your head pound and your cheeks stretch with sobs. You wanted nothing more than to drown yourself in these tears, though you knew they wouldn’t wash the pain away.

Then, you caught a grey glimmer in the darkness. Your youngest boy, Nico, was wide awake and watching you with saucer eyes.

“Hey baby… go back to sleep,” you whispered, quickly smoothing away your tears.

“Are you crying, mummy?”

The softness in his gaze was like a punch in the stomach. You choked down another wave of tears. “No, sweetie, I’m fine. Go back to sleep okay?”

Obediently, he closed his eyes. You didn’t deserve such beautiful children.

You were doubled over, silent in the darkness. You pressed your palms into your eyes, so hard they hurt, and forced the tears back.

You couldn’t even make your husband love you.

What hope did you have with your kids?

------

Three days had passed since that terrible night.

It was 10PM, and the house was unusually quiet.

You and Yuta were sitting at the far edges of the couch, the Netflix episode you never missed playing on the TV.

Both of you were pretending like nothing had gone wrong.

“So… how was work?” Yuta’s cautious voice broke the silence.

You sighed and shook your head. “Just get me a drink.” You couldn’t be bothered with this charade. But at least you could drown your feelings.

“Are you sure that’s a good-” Yuta began.

“Just get it.”

He returned with a whisky, with two ice cubes. Your heart twisted. “You remembered?”

“How could I forget my wife’s favourite drink?” Yuta gave you a thin smile, and for a second, you forgot to ice him out. You smiled back.

That was two whiskies ago. Now, the gap between the two of you on the sofa had shrunk.

You were laughing so hard your eyes were teary.

“Do you remember, Y/n? Your shirt was on backwards, my pants were on the other side of the room, we were moaning so loud half the theme park could hear us!”

You dried your eyes, sighing. “I bet we scarred a few kids for life that day…”

Yuta’s lip curled up in a smile that sent your heart racing.

You looked down. Subconsciously, your hand was massaging Yuta’s denim-clad knee. You retracted it.

“God, we really knew how to have fun, didn’t we?” You could barely remember the time before you had your three children. It was rose-coloured.

“I mean, Disneyland was nothing. Remember Taeyong’s attic? The nightclub bathroom? I could go on…”

“Ahh!” You mimed blocking your ears. “There are kids in the house, you know!”

In doing so, you lost your grip on your whisky glass, which was balanced on your knee. Yuta grabbed it before it fell, and his hand was suddenly on your thigh.

He let go, and you cleared your throat.

That was hours back. Now, you were having difficulty sitting straight. You’d lost count of how many whiskies you’d downed.

You grabbed Yuta by the shoulders and shook him. “Look! Let’s just get it out of the way. ASAP, straight, completo. No regrets.”

For the first time in ages, your blood was running warm with more than alcohol. The worn denim of Yuta’s jeans was pulling your gaze southward.

“Get what out of the way? You’re not making sense, Y/n.”

You pulled the pin out of your hair and let it fall over your shoulders. “The big three-letter.”

Yuta looked at you, still bewildered. “What?”

“SEX.”

The glass fell from Yuta’s hand.

To be continued…

Part 1 ⭐| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

781 notes · View notes

bubsdolan · 3 years

Note

Can we get the next part to clingy please? I’m obsessed with that fic :)

{clingy gray masterlist}

“YOU KISSED MY GIRLFRIEND!”

“ex girlfriend grayson, im your ex girlfriend!”

grayon’s deadly grip on his brothers body was instantly released. ethans feet touching the ground with a sigh of relief as he rubs at the now tender skin of his neck, where an imprint of his brothers hand now sat. ethan swallowed the lump in his throat as he flashed you a small smile in gratitude, coming in at the right time and saving him from a bad temper ready to burst and could potentially do real damage. like you normally did, you were the calm grayson needed whenever he felt a storm brewing, yet as of right now, you are the storm.

grayson was in disbelief, pressing the palms of his hands roughly into his eyes and rubbing servel times to try and abrub the sight in front of him. he was frozen in place when he reopened his eyes, blinking a few times to get rid of the little white dots in his vision and make sure you were still there, not a figment of his imagination. you came back for him.

“y/n, baby i-” grayon reached out to try and grab you. his hands fighting a gravitational force to the one thing he needed more than anything in his life. he needed to hold you and feel your warm delicate skin agasint his fingers after so many horrible and earth shattering weeks apart. he longed for the moment you would run back into his arms, shower him with kisses and forget the drama in your relationship ever existed.

however, when you retracted your steps, distancing yourself further from him as you shield your body from his ever so inviting hands, avoiding his gaze when you turned to look at ethan instead- something inside grayson switched for the second time that night. his head bouncing between you and his brother, who appeared to be making silent communication, he was not apart of, with your eyes. grayson’s fists clenching at his sides, vein protruding from his forehead as he let out an almost evil, vemuous laugh.

“oh i see what's going on here-” grayons gestures towards the pair of you, chest puffing out as he tried to make himself look as intimidating as possible. needing to feel like he has all the control and power over the room even though he was by far the strongest.

“you’re not here for me,” grayson sends draggers in your direction, running his hands through his already matted hair as he chuckles in realisation. his heart dropping as he tried to convince himself what he thought was true- his mind playing cruel malicious tricks on him.

“what are you talking about? i came back for you, grayson! to hopefully sort it and get back to the place we were before all this shit happened. when we were happy-“

“YOU CHEATED ON ME WITH MY OWN BROTHER!” in the months you had been dating, grayson had never once raised his voice at you, never once lost his temper or directed his anger towards you. but at the way his eyes pierced dangerously into yours, his red and angry face meters from your own as his body trapped you between his intimidating build and the wall of the place you once called home.

it was the first time you were scared of grayson, terrified even. this wasn’t your grayson, the man you feel in love with, who stole your heart and made you whole. this was a monster of a man, a villain you didn't recognise and one you wished to never encounter again.

normally you would fight your corner, like you had done the entire time you were seemly at war with the dolan brothers, but right now grayson made you feel weak. he left you speechless and unable to defend yourself at the wild accusations he had created for himself. the way his body pushed agasint your own, send shivers down your spine- and certainly not in a good way.

when he lifted his hand up to run this fingers through his disentangled hair, you flinched and curled yourself deeper into your body for protection. a reaction you instantly regretted when you saw grayson’s face drop, a deep set frown appear on his features as his eyes soften briefly. for a minute you through he was going to breakdown and cry, or even apologise for his outburst, comfort you and wash away your insecurities, but all he did was push himself off you and walk away. shoulder bumping agasin ethan in aggression as within seconds you hear the heavy slam on his bedroom door.

you felt paralysed, tears welling in your eyes, fingers shaking as you certainly didn’t expect your return to cause this much of a uproar. this much fear and sheer panic.

“i’ll talk to him,” you feel ethan’s somewhat calming presence on your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance before sending you a warm smile he knew wouldn’t be enough to redo all the hurt and pain he caused. you nod your head, wrapping your arms around yourself as all you could do was stand there, staring down at your feet to prevent yourself from breaking down. no words could escape your lips, you were stunned into slience for the first time in forever. broken.

“bro,” ethan takes a steady, clausius approach when entering grayson’s room. making sure to knock first before bursting in like he normally would. in any normal circumstances he would slap him brother upside the head for treating you with such disrespect - but this was far from normal and he knew he was to blame for all of it.

“fuck off, e.” grayson growled. not even acknowledging ethan when he doesn’t look up from the floor, images of the fear in your eyes haunting him. he was sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as his knees shook with anger. he saw red, letting his anger out on you, scaring you, making you believe he would ever harm you. grayson would never forgive him.

“bro listen to me, please,” ethan pleads with his younger brother, not moving a muscle from his position by the foot of his bed, besides to close the door and give the bothers some privacy. you had gone through enough and ethan wasn’t sure how this conversation was going to go. this was to save you another heartbreak incase grayson wiped his hands with not only him, but you.

ethan watched as grayson slowly met his gaze with a hard darkened one, cracking his knuckles as he took a deep breath and gave his older brother the attention he wanted. if you couldn’t get through to grayson, ethan was the next best person, but when grayson opened his mouth, he should have senesed his outburst approaching and backed down immediately.

“no, you listen to me ethan, this is all your fault! if you never would have opened your big mouth- fuck i might have just lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me. you- you did this!” grayson pointed his finger aggressively at ethan, watching him shutter and gulp as he was overcome with guilt.

all ethan could do was look down in shame. everything grayson was saying was true. he caused your heartbreak, he caused his brother’s world to collapse around him, he caused the broken relationship he now shared with his twin- his once bestfriend and soulmate. he took hit after hit as grayson finally spilled every last ounce of emotion he has been bottling up.

“why bro, why? could you not stand to see me happy just this once! finally something good, something of my own and you go and fuck it up for me! why-“

“it should have been me! i thought i loved h-her,” ethan breaks down at the truth, stalling grayson from his rage as he was frozen in his position meters away, eyes glancing to the door in hopes you weren’t able to hear the words they were exchanging. the words out loud made him feel sick to his stomach. his brother ‘loved’ his girlfriend and wished you were his happily ever after- how did it all end up going so wrong.

grayson wanted to scream at ethan, punch him, even though him out the house and his life, but when he witnessed the sobs, the vicious shaking and breakdown from his bestfriend, he broke too. call it twin telepathy, but he felt his pain.

grayson had to be the bigger man if he ever wanted a normal relationship with his brother, or if he even had the chance to rekindle your relationship- one that without, life simply wasn’t worth living.

“do you still love her?” grayson’s voice broke. not wanting to know the answer to the question, yet needing to in order to push past this. ethan’s answer was make or break for the three of you.

“i did, no- i, i thought i did, grayson, but bro, believe me i don’t anymore. i watched how happy you are with her bro, i watch how she makes you laugh, makes you smile, makes you the best version of you and i was jealous-“

ethan gradually moved closer to the bed, hesitant to sit down next to grayson and continue what had been bubbling up since the day you walked out all those weeks ago. grayson didn’t budge, giving ethan the green light to make himself more comfortable in the bed and beg for his brother’s forgiveness.

“i was in love with the thought of being loved. all my past relationships never worked out, i always got used and walked all over, but with y/n, she felt different. she isn’t with you for the money, the fame, or your name. she’s with you because she loves you bro, more than ive ever seen a person love anybody.”

ethan is cut off by grayson cries, his head hitting ethans chest as he clutches onto his shirt and simply just shakes. the fact he brother had admitted to witnessing the love you and grayson shared, it made him hate himself even more for everything you had been through. all your fights, arguments and breakdowns weren’t worth it. you needed each other, more than you needed air to survive.

“she loves you bro, fight for her.” ethan hugs his brother close. a sense of relief watching over him at the somewhat feeling of normality coming back. it felt good to be this close to him, to hold him and be the big brother he always promised to be.

he lefts grayson cry into his body for what felt like hours, shushing him and reassuring him that you- the person losing her mind in the living room listening to grayson’s cries, wanting nothing more to run in there and kiss all his worries away- was his endgame.

“ethan, thank you.” grayson wipes his eyes, composing himself to face you and put right everything that went horribly wrong. ethan was right, he needed to fight for you, not with you.

ethan padded grayson’s back, sending him a real genuine smile and bringing him in for one last bone crushing hug he missed and would never take for granted again. happy to have his partner in crime back.

“go get your girl back, bro.”

171 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Can you do one where it turns out greyback injuring Remus way back years ago was actually caught on camera and that video of young remus getting his shoulder ripped is like released at a hockey game on the screen or maybe just put online and everyone sees what happens Omg please I'm begging you to do this!!! ILYYY

Hello anon! This is a really interesting idea and I’ve been thinking about it for a while--the NHL doesn’t allow security cameras in locker rooms, but I assumed there would be audio somewhere from one nearby. People who leak ~scandalous information~ on the internet are literally the worst.

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for graphic descriptions of injury (mostly the sounds)

“How did this happen?” Remus asked, wincing internally at the tremor in his voice. He was shaking from head to toe; it was a miracle he hadn’t started screaming yet. Then again, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to stop. “How the hell did this happen?”

“We don’t know,” Alice said quietly in the chair across from him. “This information was confidential and we haven’t even presented it to the NHL board for review. Someone must have leaked it to the press.”

“Why does this keep happening to me? First Sirius, and now—” He pressed his lips together as his voice cracked. There were a few beats of silence. “Why did you call me in here? I already saw it on the internet.”

“We need you to confirm it was you and Fenrir.” Alice looked him in the eyes. “If you don’t think you can listen to this, Remus, that’s okay, but it will help us build a stronger case to get him punished.”

He took a deep breath. “Can—can Sirius come and sit with me for it?”

“Of course.” She stood and left the room, leaving him alone with the coach.

“You’ve listened to it, haven’t you.”

Arthur nodded. “I’m so sorry, Remus.”

“I don’t need you to be sorry, I need people to not look at me like some sob story.” Bitter fury rose in his throat, though he wasn’t angry with Arthur. “I worked hard to get there and even harder to come back. I’m done dwelling on the past. This is going to undo everything and I’m sick of it.”

“Did the team know?”

“I told some of them when Sirius was at All-Stars.” Remus knew Arthur remembered the fight; he had chewed Sirius out for it as soon as practices resumed. “Didn’t tell my parents, though.”

Arthur closed his eyes and let out a long breath. The door clicked open behind him. “Re?”

“Hey, baby.” Instant relief washed over Remus, though he still felt like he would lose it at any moment.

Sirius settled into the chair next to him and held out his hand—Remus took it immediately, scooting their chairs closer together so their shoulders touched. “Are you ready?” Alice asked, picking up a remote. Remus nodded.

The video was grainy, but the audio was pristine. A few voices—familiar voices, I remember them clear as day—jumbled together as the last members of the team filtered out of the locker room. “See you tomorrow, Moony!” one called over his shoulder. “Great game!”

“Bye, Tags!” Remus said from inside. Did I really sound that young?

The hallway outside the locker room was empty; he heard himself shifting around inside as he stretched out. Left thigh, right thigh, left calf, right calf, reach and roll. “Hey, Lupin.” Fenrir’s gravelly voice made him freeze and Sirius rested his other hand on top of theirs.

“Sup, Backer.” A light smack signaled their fistbump. “That was a beautiful goal you had at the end of the third, by the way. The scouts definitely saw.”

“They certainly did. Are your folks here tonight?”

“Yeah, Jules was so excited. He’s been bouncing off the walls for the past couple days.” The unbridled fondness in his younger voice was a balm. Jules had been convinced that he would be drafted to the NHL right after that game.

“They’re saying you’ll be number one.”

“Really?” Young Remus laughed. “I dunno, man, there are a lot of players this year. You and me are neck and neck, right?”

Dumbass! he wanted to shout. Just shut up for once! “Neck and neck,” Fenrir muttered, barely loud enough for the camera to pick up. “Hey, do you need a hand with your stretches?”

“Sure, thanks. Might have a bruise from your pads tomorrow, eh?” The friendly joke made him wince. More shuffling noises followed. The hall stayed empty.

“Here?” Fenrir asked. There was a dangerous edge to his voice and Remus swallowed around the sudden dryness of his mouth.

“Yeah, that’s—okay, that’s actually a bit too far, can you let up a bit? Fenrir, you’re pulling too hard.” Panic seeped in. “Fenrir, stop, you’re hurting me—”

There was a horrible cracking noise and younger Remus’ strangled shout cut off abruptly as his shoulder came out of the socket. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped Sirius’ hand. If he focused, he could still feel Fenrir’s fingers pressing his face into the mats.

“‘Look at me, I’m Remus Lupin, I’m the fastest player on the ice and I’ll be number one’,” Fenrir mimicked as Remus’ agonized whines continued. “You think you’re so clever. So perfect. You’ve never had to work a day in your life. I’m the best player out there and the scouts are fucking idiots if they think you’re better.”

A muffled wail ended with a gasp and a series of pops. “Please—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Fenrir growled. “Look at you now, crying like a girl. You’re never going to tell anybody about this, because I know your secret.” Remus’ breath shuddered. “Oh, yeah, I know all about you. If you even think about tattling, everyone is going to know.”

“Ple—ah.” Sirius’ grip tightened around his fingers as Remus’ sharp cry caught in his chest. The green-tinted video fuzzed out for a moment, but still nobody walked past. Fenrir had planned this well.

“You’re nothing now, Lupin. You are damaged goods and you’ll never set foot on the ice again.” His voice lowered. “If you do, I’ll find you.”

There was a thud as he finally released Remus’ arm and quiet, wheezing sobs filled the silence. “What did you do to me? Oh my god, oh my god, it hurts so much, what the hell did you do?”

Remus tasted something salty on the edge of his lips and pressed his thumb against Sirius’ ring. This was real. This was his. Sirius loved him. The team loved him.

“I did what I had to do. Say hi to Jules for me.”

The locker room door opened a few seconds later and Fenrir walked out, flexing his hand. With the open door, Remus’ hoarse weeping was clearer as he was left alone on the floor. The video ended.

“Remus.” Alice held out a box of tissues, her voice gentle as the screen went dark. He reached out for one, but his hand was shaking too bad to grab it; Sirius took one and carefully wiped his cheeks dry with feather-light touches.

“That was him,” Remus managed around the boulder in his throat. “That was Fenrir Greyback, and that was me.”

“Would you be able to swear it in court?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Remus snarled. Sirius ran his thumb over his knuckles. “Do you want to see the scars on my shoulder, too? What reason do I have to lie?”

“I meant are you prepared to talk about this in front of people?” Alice rephrased, calm and collected as ever. “This is a traumatic event and I don’t want to force you into anything.”

“Remus, you’re a valued player on the team,” Arthur said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe in this league.”

“Don’t look at me differently. Now that you know this, now that everyone knows, people will treat me like I’m fragile. I’m the same person I was two days ago and this will not change how I play.”

“I know.” Arthur folded his hands on the desk. “You’re a fighter, Loops. That’s one of the reasons I wanted you on my team.”

“Do you two need a moment before you head back out?” Alice asked, glancing between him and Sirius. “We’re going to kick the reporters out and then everyone’s going to go home for the day while we talk to the board.”

“We do, yeah.” Remus’ voice wavered and coach stood, following Alice into the hall.

“Oh, mon loup,” Sirius murmured, standing and pulling him into a hug. A kiss pressed against the top of his head and Remus grabbed the back of his soft shirt like it was the only thing holding him steady. “I am so sorry.”

“You already knew.”

“No, I didn’t. You told me, but—” Sirius faltered. “I had no idea how bad it was. The things he said to you…”

“Were wrong.” Remus finished. He had spent so many long nights and dark days convincing himself of that.

“They were wrong. You are not damaged goods,” Sirius said fiercely, pulling back to hold his face in his hands. His eyes were fiery. “Listen to me, Remus. You are not damaged. You are everything to me and I love you for exactly who you are.”

“I love you, too.” Remus’ lower lip wobbled and he rested his forehead on Sirius’ chest again. “Hearing it—I already knew what happened, but hearing it was horrible.”

“It was.”

“I’m sorry I made you listen with me.”

“Don’t be sorry, mon amour. I’m with you through the good, the bad, and everything else. I’m glad I was with you for this.”

“The team…” He trailed off and sighed. “I don’t want them to see that. My folks, too.”

“I think they already have,” Sirius admitted. “But they love you so much and they’ll be here for whatever you need.”

“We have to go sometime.” He took a deep breath and stepped back, rubbing his eyes and kissing Sirius quickly. “Alright, let’s go.”

They made it four steps down the hall before James appeared and engulfed Remus in a hug. “Holy shit, I’m so angry,” he choked out on a harsh breath. “I love you, man.”

“Love you too, J. Where’s everyone else?”

“Inside. I called dibs on first hug.”

“Have they all seen it?”

“Some of it. I don’t know if anyone watched it all the way through.” He sniffled and squeezed Remus tighter. “I don’t know how you came back from that.”

“PT helped.” He closed his eyes and leaned into James. “So did you guys. I couldn’t have made it this far without you.”

“Neither could we.” James pulled back. “Do you want to see them or are you heading out?”

“Heading h—”

“I want to see them,” Remus interrupted quietly. Sirius raised his eyebrows. “It’s going to happen sometime. Might as well be now.”

James nodded and walked over to the locker room door. “Ready?”

Remus laced his fingers with Sirius’. “Let’s do it.”

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writersarchivex · 3 years

Text

Old Friends- Kyle Spencer Oneshot

a/n: this is kind of trash but i thought it was kinda cute.

warnings: adult language, mentions of death.

Y/N has been attending Robichaux's Academy for a while now, and after years of being here she’s seen a lot. Death, mysterious accidents, and lots and lots of stupid witches doing stupid stuff.

When Zoe and and Madison decided to come running to her, asking for help putting a boy back together, she was sure she was high.

“Okay what the fu- what did you guys do?” She asked frantically getting her stuff together.

Y/N was a pretty sophisticated person. She did her best to not get caught up in the drama, but she knew she had to help. They wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.

“There’s no time Y/N. Please just help. He doesn’t deserve what happened to him.” Zoe yelled.

Zoe didn’t exactly look guilty. Y/N felt that Zoe really wanted to help this man due to her own self preservation.

“Fine. Just get me coffee or something after we are done.” Y/N sighed, not really knowing what kind of mess she had gotten herself into.

—

Out of all places to preform a spell, the morgue is not ideal. First of all, it’s stinks. Death and bleach pretty much covers it.

She looked around at the discarded limbs and bodies, it was quite sad actually. They were real people, and whatever Madison did killed them all. Pretty painfully she could assume.

“Oh Christ almighty you guys,” She paused looking around the small room once more.

“Which one is it.” She rolled her eyes, taking out the supplies needed for the spell.

Madison pointed, and to be honest Y/N had already decided she was going to make the other girls do the dirty work. She might be okay with doing the spell, but she sure isn’t going to touch all over these five day old corpses.

“Get what you need and put him on the table.”

—

Y/N finally was ready. The other two witches had grown impatient, and they were ready to leave. At this point Madison had already mentioned ditching Y/N and just leaving to get lunch.

Thankfully, Zoe said no.

Y/N walked over to the body, already noticing a heap of blond hair.

“Oh my God-” Y/N gasped, placing her hand over her mouth.

She had no problem with death usually. To her it’s a part of life. This tough, shook her to her very core.

Kyle Spencer’s lifeless form stared up at her. Her best friend from back at home. She felt sick to her stomach all of a sudden.

“Oh just fix him already bitch. I have places to be.” Madison huffed, looking over her nails.

Y/N resisted the urge to kill her on the spot. That would certainly make waves back at the academy.

“I know him. Knew him. Whatever let’s just get this over with.” Y/N spoke sadly, before her eyes roamed over him once more.

——

After a long an exhausting process, she had done it. The spell was done, and all she had to do was wait for the boy to wake up. Unlike her fellow witches, Y/N was actually quite educated on the spell she had just done.

She knew quite well what was going to become of poor Kyle, and she hoped that she would be able to fix it. She didn’t want him to be cursed to a life like that.

Zoe and Y/N sat side by side. Madison had long since ditched the two of them.

“You can go. I’ll take care of him. I’m sorry, I mean it must suck to see someone you were close to like that.” She stuttered.

Zoe was always a bit intimidated by the other witches, except for Nan of course. Nan was such a sweet person, everyone loves her.

“I’m fine. I’m going to probably go. Good luck with him.” She smiled, standing up.

—-

It had been about a week, and Y/N had done everything she could to learn how to fix Kyles mind.

She was sure by now that she could do it, but she was surprisingly nervous that she would mess him up even more.

Y/N was sitting on her bed when the door opened up harshly, startling her a bit.

Zoe pushed a very much so zombied Kyle into the room, and locked the door behind her.

He was being surprisingly calm toward Zoe, as long as she wasn’t touching him, he wouldn’t get all freaky and try to murder her.

“He just- Just killed his mom. Y/N please I cant do this anymore.”

Y/N’s eyes widened.

She didn’t know very much about his mom, but she knew enough. She wasn’t a very good woman, and although Y/N hated to say this, his mom

deserves what she got.

It was now though, that she locked eyes with Kyle. She could’ve sworn she saw his body relax almost immediately.

“Y/N-” He muttered out before rushing to her feet.

He clung desperately to her jean clad legs, and Y/N dared her hand to move to the top of his head, gently massaging his scalp.

Then she saw the blood. He was covered nearly head to toe in his disgusting mother’s blood. This caused a bit of anger to well up inside her.

“First you kill him. Then you make me bring him back to life. Then you don’t even have the fucking decency to clean the blood off him. Get out please, I’ll take it from here.” Y/N stated sharply.

The mere sight of Zoey was beginning to annoy her deeply, and she knew that if the girl stayed much longer, it wouldn’t end well.

Zoe sighed and stepped slowly out of the room, leaving Y/N alone with Kyle.

He was still a mess. Latched on to her legs and whimpering, the man was completely broken.

Kyle must remember her from their childhood. They had quite a defining friendship, and she understood why he remembered her. She was glad that he could feel safe with someone.

He was probably scared to death. Well he’s already dead, but still.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” She said softly to the boy in front of her.

She carefully took his arm, and led him to the bathroom. The last thing she wanted was to scare him more than he already was.

—-

She had been successful in cleaning him up, the blood was no longer under his nails and matted in his hair.

She gave him one of her bigger flannels, hoping that and the random pair of jeans she had found would fit him okay.

They are sat on the edge of her bed, internally she was trying to decide on whether or not she would try this spell or not.

She turned to look at him. His soft features resembled the look of a toddler at this point, he was staring into space, and he had been chewing on his fingernail intently.

She made up her mind, and she began to speak slowly.

“Kyle honey, i’m going to help you okay. Don’t be scared.” She said lowly, and he nodded a bit before looking at her.

Curiosity washed over his face as she pulled out the large book full of spells and other ailments.

“Let’s get started then.”

—

It wasn’t perfect, but she had helped. He still stumbled a bit over his words, and his feet but he was pretty much back to normal.

Y/N felt ashamed at how powerful she felt. She never knew that she could accomplish something so big.

She stuffed her feelings down, and did her best to explain everything to him. It was a lot to take in but he just nodded along.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you. I shouldn’t have let Zoe take you.” She said looking at the floor.

Kyle finally had a chance to look at her and really take in the sight. She had grown since last he’d seen her. Her hair was much fuller, and her eyes seemed to be a lot brighter. He had missed her. Every time something cool at school would happen, he desperately would want to tell her. She was gone though, and he had lost his best friend.

He had always loved her, and as the groggy memories came back, he new what he had to do.

He took a very slow and careful step towards the witch and placed his trembling hand on her cheek.

“It’s not your fault. You saved me Y/N.” At this point, he was sure her face was turning a dark shade of pink.

“Kyle I-” Y/N didn’t have time to finish her sentence before Kyle had placed his chapped lips on hers.

Everything she had wanted as a child was finally coming true. She had always loved him. Loved him more than best friends love each other.

They made each other’s lives complete. She was the only one that could rescue him from his mind in their teenage years. He was the one to comfort her when she was scared of the roaring thunder outside.

“I’ve missed you, Kyle. I’m sorry I had to go away.” The witch spoke, feeling tear pool in her eyes.

Her magic was starting to run kind of wild, and the candles in the room lit up, blazing fiercely and causing large shadows to appear on the bedroom walls.

He looked around in amazement, but turned his attention back to the woman when he heard a sniffle.

He wrapped his arms around her, and laid back so they could both look at the ceiling.

The two of them stayed like that, until the next morning. They were woken by a very confused Cordelia Goode.

#writing #fanfic #american horror story #ahs coven #kyle spencer #evan peters #ahs oneshot #kyle spencer fanfic #kylespencer #wattpad

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aroaceslytherin · 3 years

Text

In Too Deep

(Used song 'In Too Deep - Why Don't We' for inspiration)

Used to be scared of the ocean

'Cause I didn't know how to swim

I took one sip of your potion

Now I'm just divin' right in

For as long as Regulus could remember, he would have nightmares of the ocean swallowing him whole and dragging him down to the unknown depths many levels below the earth’s surface. His siblings taught themselves to swim in the lake in the forest near their manor.

Regulus never followed. He panicked just even setting foot on the land where the lake was. Ever since the first dream, he would drink water with a straw, he would never take a bath but rather clean himself with rags, water, and soap, he hated the rain, and washing the dishes or his hands made his heart pound.

When Regulus was eighteen, he signed himself up for a Suicide Mission besides the protests of his sisters and brother. He loved James, he loved his daughter, but he had to make his mother proud of him. So he took on the task of finding the locket for Tom Riddle even after Tom asked him many times ‘Are you sure?’.

“Why are you all protesting?” Regulus asked, sitting on the table in the meeting hall.

“You can’t swim.” Narcissa pleaded.

“Inferi will drag you down before you can even get to a cure for the water!” Bellatrix added on. “You are not strong enough, you have a fear of water, someone would have to go with you but it has never worked before.”

“I’ll take the risk.” Regulus whispered. “I love you.”

I heard your siren's call, it was beautiful I am drowning, God, please don't save me

Regulus took a deep breath in as he packed his bags. He was leaving Hogwarts tonight - he used to be excited to leave because it meant freedom. Now he dreaded it. He no longer wanted to leave because the chance for freedom was now shattered.

Was he ruining his future? Were his siblings right?

Regulus took the route down to the Gryffindor Common Room once more. Seeing the painting he used to run through with his brother and his idiot friends sent flutters through his body. An overwhelming sense of sadness he had never felt before filled his soul.

“Damn you, James.” He chuckled, making his way to the platform where the carriages were to take them to the train.

Regulus remembered the first time he saw James... Or at least noticed him. He was thirteen. James was sixteen. Sixteen and holding hands with a slightly annoyed Lily who was also holding hands with Remus... Who was holding hands with Sirius. Those four did everything together.

He felt it was wrong to fall for his best friend’s brother and someone his family would hate but something inside him also did not care. For once he did not care about something. James was beautiful. James was everything Barty was not.

But at the same time he was still drowning. He had been drowning since that day at the lake. His siblings had not noticed, but Cygnus tried to get him to swim. Regulus slipped and the only person who saved him was Bellatrix. She stayed with him on the bank until everyone was ready to head home. James had not known this.

Regulus had not told him because he knew this suicide mission was coming. James would have stopped him. James deserved something and someone better than him. Whether that was Lily or Remus and Sirius - it just was not him.

Regulus Black.

Baby Black.

Goodbye was coming.

Goodbye was all they were meant to be.

Forever was never for him.

Forever was for his brother.

Forever was for James and someone else.

His brother had everything he never had...

Happiness. An amazing boyfriend. Love. A chosen family. A colorful life. Bravery. Confidence.

FREEDOM

I’m in too deep

Can’t touch the bottom with my feet

Don’t know what you did to me, I can’t breathe but I’m living

I’m in too deep

Can’t touch the bottom with my feet

Don’t know what you did to me, I can’t breathe but I’m living

Bravery.

One thing Regulus Black never had.

Or so he thought.

He was brave enough to date James Potter. An “enemy”. He was brave enough to put himself on the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Did he do it to get closer to James? Probably.

Did he do it to see his brother more? Definitely.

Regulus was brave. He just did not see it within himself. He saw broken pieces that couldn’t be mended. He saw flaws where others saw beauty. He was just as dark as Andromeda pretended she wasn’t. They were ‘Blacks’ , it is what they were.

Dark.

Powerful.

Malicious.

James told him at one point they were being brainwashed. It was after Regulus unknowingly shared stories of what Cygnus had done to his sisters. He quickly left the Gryffindor Common Room after that for fear of sharing any other family secrets.

Regulus was afraid of mirrors. He turned them around in his room which was dark with no colour, save for the dark forest green that had always been his favourite. He was supposedly supposed to be a Gryffindor. He couldn’t see himself in that house. He knew he would be a Slytherin through and through.

Like his family.

He was wrong.

He was a snake with a lion’s heart. He wondered if he would even be on this mission if he had taken the Hat’s suggestion. He wondered if he would still be with James.

Yet here he was. Standing at the entrance of Sirius’ bright room staring at the mess, the evidence that someone once lived there, unlike his own room, which felt cold and unlived. Empty and sad. Like a ghost passing through. Mourning a life of happiness.

Where Sirius had pictures of his friends scattering the walls adorned by Gryffindor banners and posters of girls to annoy his parents despite how gay he was or makeup strewn all over his vanity and floor...

Regulus had books. On his desk, on his bookshelf filled to the brim, on his nightstand, in his closet. It was the only colour he had. Everything had a home. He never misplaced or moved anything and he would be livid at anyone for a week if they moved something just an inch.

Now all that was left in his room was a cold presence.

Regulus ran to Sirius’ bed and buried himself in the mess of blankets. He missed his big brother’s hugs. He almost had forgotten what Sirius smelled like. He wanted his brother. His mother forbade them from seeing each other and he obeyed. He even declined when his Uncle Alphard tried getting them to meet up. It broke his heart but he didn’t want to be disowned like Pandora, Rosier, Andromeda, and Sirius. He didn’t want to be hung like Alastair. Narcissa escaped long ago.

It was just him.

Fighting alone.

Healing alone.

Crying alone.

Alone.

I’m in too deep

Ah ooh-ah-ooh-ooh

I’m in too deep

Ah ooh-ah-ooh-ooh

Alone is all he has known. He knew he and James were going to end. As soon as they met it was goodbye. As soon as they met he was still alone even if James had said many times he had been found. He was seen. He was heard. He was no longer alone.

Regulus could not believe it no matter how many times he told himself. Everyone had left him. James would do the same. Except now Regulus felt guilty because he was the one that made James leave. He had begged James to leave instead of accepting the older boys’ help.

He then realized he pushed everyone away. It was safer that way. They would not get hurt when he dies. They got hurt anyway. It made Regulus sick. He should have stayed away.

If not for the suicide mission, then at his own hands. If he could not have James or Sirius then he is better off dead. Since he cannot have love and he cannot have James without doubt, anger, and beatings - he will just die. He could not wait for his mother to pass even if that meant his only path to happiness. As long as she was alive, he was miserable.

Regulus was done fighting for love. His brother was strong enough to fight for his love, but that is all Regulus had known. He fought for his mother’s attention and love. He fought for his life. For his family. He fought to stay. Regulus would not give up like Sirius did.

Sirius left.

Regulus kept going.

He was burning his hands on a rope he was gripping too tight, slipping until his hands were bleeding raw.

It was time to let go.

Treasure chest full of your diamonds

I don’t mind staying down here

Thought by now I would be dyin’

But your love gives me all my air

It scared Regulus to love this much. He had four beautiful years with James. It was time for the memories to be locked up. It was time for everything to end.

I heard your siren’s call, it was beautiful

I am drowning, God, please don’t save me

Regulus needed to see James one last time. Regulus was empty as he climbed the stairs to the apartment where Remus, Sirius, Lily, and James were living. Marlene and Dorcas were two doors down. None of them had heard from Peter in two years.

Regulus knew what Peter was doing. He also knew his mother was behind it all. Which is why he had to leave. Which is why he stayed glued on the mat, hesitating to reach up and knock.

Regulus backed out at the last minute, turning to go back and make his way to his grave.

I’m in too deep

Can’t touch the bottom with my feet

Don’t know what you did to me, I can’t breathe but I’m living

I’m in too deep

Can’t touch the bottom with my feet

Don’t know what you did to me, I can’t breathe but I’m living

“Regie?”

“Go back, James.” Regulus replied, not bothering to look back as he descended the stairs.

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Please.”

Regulus stopped on the step he was on. “James.” He sighed. He was exhausted. He was done. He was empty. There was nothing left. He didn’t know what to say when you were trying to break someone’s heart. He didn’t know what to do when you were leaving someone. He had never had to do that before. It was always the other person.

“I can’t.” Regulus shook his head, slowly taking another step down.

“Come home.”

“It never was.”

“It was and you know it.”

“Enough, James.” Regulus choked out. “I love you. It does not change the fact that I am still leaving. Nothing will.”

“Regie.”

“James. I-” He sighed, dropping his head.

“What?”

I’m in too deep

Ah ooh-ah-ooh-ooh

I’m in too deep

Ah ooh-ah-ooh-ooh

I’m in too deep

“What?” James pleaded, stepping one foot out the door.

“Goodbye. I love you.”

I heard your sirens call, it was beautiful

Goodbye.

That one word swam in his head as he pulled on the Gryffindor sweater and let his heavy body take him down to the edge of the lake inside the cave.

He was doing what he had to.

He would make it.

His mother would love him.

He never wanted to admit it...

But his mother hated him just as much as she hated Sirius. She was not fit to be a mother and Cygnus was never meant to be a father. Which is why she made the dumb mistake to take in his daughters and kept having kids. She should have been less selfish and given her daughters and Sirius a different life by giving them up instead of having him and Alastair. Regulus loved his own daughter. Which is why he gave her to James. To keep her safe with Cyprus.

It was too late.

Inferi were clawing at him already.

He went through with it.

I’m in too deep

Can’t touch the bottom with my feet

Don’t know what you did to me, I can’t breathe but I’m living

It was too late.

James knew this but he still grabbed his coat and fled. He knew where Regulus was going. He left a note for his family, grabbed a coat, and fled. He needed to save the insufferable git that could not see what was right in front of him.

James could not say goodbye.

He loved that bastard just as much as he loved his brother.

As much as Remus.

As much as Lily.

Maybe just a little bit more.

I’m in too deep

I never thought that you could be

A underwater symphony, I can’t breathe but I’m living

I’m in too deep

Can’t touch the bottom with my feet

Don’t know what you did to me, I can’t breathe but I’m living

Regulus looked up at the sound of echoed footsteps running toward him. He gripped the rocks harder, trying to pull himself free but he kept slipping. His hands were bruised and covered in blood but he kept trying. He would not let them take him. He had to save the locket.

“James! Leave!” He screamed.

“Not without you!” The older boy yelled back.

“I love you, now leave!”

“No! I won’t let you go!”

Regulus groaned.

James dove after Regulus, grabbing his wrists and pulling.

“If you go down, I will go down with you.” James said calmly. “I love you.” He whispered breathlessly as they went under.

Hands clawed at the both of them. James held tight to Regulus as the younger boy struggled. He went through every spell in his mind until he found one that his father had taught him. An old one not many would know anymore.

Regulus went limp in his grip as James repeated the words in his mind.

Further and further they went.

I’m in too deep

Ah ooh-ah-ooh-ooh

I’m in too deep

Ah ooh-ah-ooh-ooh

I’m in too deep

James soon found himself on his back in sand. He chuckled before pushing Regulus off him and getting on his hands and knees just before he ended up choking. As he coughed up water, Regulus moaned from next to him.

James side-eyed Regulus. He was bleeding through the Gryffindor sweater, his hair was a sopping, bleeding mess; the only thing that made James feel like he could keep going was the small, subtle indicators that the younger boy was still breathing.

James scrambled onto his feet as Regulus started coughing. He turned the smaller boy onto his side, getting him to expel some water from his body.

James then ripped the locket off Regulus' neck and hoisted his boyfriend onto his shoulders.

James apparated them to The Black Manor in Regulus’ room. He laid him down and put the locket in the Mahogany jewelry chest on the younger boys' bookshelf stuffed to the brim with books.

“I don’t wanna be here.” Regulus mumbled.

James kneeled next to him on the bed, caressing the youngest heir’s hair. “No one is here. As far as we know your parents are dead. While you were hiding out in that abandoned apartment complex, the dementors came searching for the locket because they thought you had it already.”

“Idiots.”

“I will be right back.”

Regulus laid there staring at the ceiling. It felt like a year had passed until James came back with a glass of water. He stuck a straw in it before handing the glass to Regulus.

“How do we destroy it?” James asked, looking at the box.

“We don’t.” Regulus answered as he sat up. James looked at him quizzically. “Lily’s pregnant, right?”

“Uh, yeah? Where are you-”

“Shh. You know I have visions.”

“You cannot possibly predict the future.”

“No, but I can say that yours and Lily’s kid will be the one to destroy it. We can try and destroy the others. Bellatrix and Tom should not have finished all of them or gotten too far.”

(As I was writing this - Listen To Your Heart; Roxette - started playing. Let me tell you I cried.)

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#jegulus #wolfstar #dorlene #narlily #marauders #marauders era #siriusxremusxjames #lucius x severus #lucius x narcissa #oc x canon #alternate universe #fanfic #jegulily

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atmostories · 3 years

Text

Johnny Lawrence x Reader

Matter - Chapter Three Tags: Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Alcohol Abuse, Depression That was how you found yourself falling into the routine. Each week you'd go to the dojo and work on all of the administration that needed to be done. Johnny would always call and say when he needed you to come in. Most of the time you'd be there while a class was going on, or when Miguel was training with Johnny by himself. Occasionally it would just be the two of you late in the evening. At least with the kids there was something to distract from his company. He was nothing but civil and polite, and that was the problem. You were beginning to hate how he spoke to you. The warmth and the intimacy your conversations used to have wasn't there anymore. It was like it had never existed.

There would be times when he'd make a joke, but there was always something reserved about it, like he was holding back, like he couldn't be himself with you.

It was devastating.

Sometimes you tried to convince yourself to tell Johnny that you couldn't make it, or that you were busy. But he wouldn't ask for your help if he didn't need it. In a way going to the dojo had become your punishment. You couldn't simply walk away from all the hurt and the damage that you'd caused. You had to watch firsthand how little you meant to Johnny now.

It was getting harder to sleep. No matter how tired you were after work your mind kept racing, endlessly imagining what could have happened if you'd stayed with him.

At least the kids started to warm up to you. They'd come into the office and give you their forms, most would smile or say hi. They seemed to be getting used to you being there. Miguel and Aisha would interact with you the most. They'd make small talk when the opportunity arose, ask how things were going, how much work you had to do. It was rather sweet of them. The kid with the mohawk, aptly named Hawk, preferred to keep his distance.

One day during the advanced class, the students were doing some practice fights. Johnny had got the medkit out in preparation and left it on the desk. Fifteen minutes passed without incident until one of the students got kicked in the gut and threw up on the mat. The class groaned in disgust. Looking through the window, you watched Johnny kneel down by the kid and help him up. He told Hawk to go fetch a mop. It looked as if he was the one who had kicked the other kid. Hawk wasn't happy about it but he did what he was told.

Johnny came to the office door with the kid, asking whether you could grab a spare shirt from the filing cabinet. There was some vomit on the kid's gi. He didn't wait for a reply before taking the kid to the bathroom. When you found the shirt, the smell of sick hit your nostrils and your body stiffened.

Suddenly your chest started to hurt, your heart was beating too hard. As you forced yourself to go to the bathroom, your hands started to shake so much that you dropped the shirt onto the ground. You were unsteady on your feet as you picked it up and had to brace against the wall for a brief moment. The door to the bathroom was open, the kid was washing his mouth out in the sink. Johnny barely glanced at you as he took the shirt and thanked you for getting it. He immediately turned his attention back to his student.

Rather than returning to the office, you managed to go out through the back of the dojo. You gasped in the fresh air, not quite able to get enough of it. Your back hit the wall and you slid down onto the ground. That smell, that smell, it was there for hours, all through the night, all through the fucking night. You couldn't leave Johnny to go clean it up, you couldn't leave him, you were too scared, you were terrified. His body started to convulse, he made that strange sound as he choked on his own vomit. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't fucking breathe.

He was okay, Johnny was okay now. You'd held onto him for hours, you had felt the constant rise and fall of his chest, you had made sure he was fine. But what if you hadn't? What if you hadn't gotten out of bed? What if you had woken up in the morning and found him lying there cold-

No. No, you couldn't think about it. You couldn't. He was fine. That's all that mattered. He was fine. He was helping one of his students, he'd probably be resuming the class by now. Focusing on the cars driving past and the people walking on the other side of the street offered a much needed distraction.

Your heart didn't seem to be beating as hard now, it was easier to breathe. A muscle car drove past, its engine loud and bassy as it stopped at the lights. Johnny would love to take a spin in that, thrash it down the highway to see what it's made of, turn up the music to full volume to see how the speakers-

“Are you okay?” You looked up and saw Miguel standing next to you on the sidewalk. He wasn't wearing any shoes.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. He didn't look convinced, if anything he seemed more worried. “I'm not good with sick,” you lied, hoping it would be enough of an explanation.

“Oh, that sucks. My Yaya's like that, a slight whiff and she's out of it for ages. Do you want some water or something?”

“No, I'm alright. I'll be back in a minute.” He went back inside before you could thank him. He was a good kid, you felt bad lying to him. Did you really say you'd come back in a minute? You supposed your hands weren't shaking that much now, your lungs still hurt but it wasn't as bad as before. Getting up off the ground, you were a little unsteady so you waited for a minute or two. When you walked back into the dojo, Johnny had his back turned as he watched his students practice. The mat had been cleaned. The kid who'd thrown up was sitting on the edge of the mat and was wearing the clean shirt.

You sat down heavily on the office chair. You hadn't thought about what happened that night for a long time, it had been buried away. You'd never really come to terms with it, you didn't think you could.

Not having the focus to do any work, you stared blankly at the forms on the desk and shuffled them round every now and then. Even though you'd calmed down from earlier, you couldn't settle. As soon as the class finished, you left the dojo, saying goodbye to Johnny with a glancing wave. Hopefully he wouldn't notice how little work you'd got done.

Later than night, you bought some weed which managed to calm you down and it helped you get some sleep. When things got bad, you figured you could smoke some. It would take the edge off.

Johnny called you only a few days later, explaining that there'd been some changes with the requirements he had to supply to the insurance company. Each student required two additional copies of their forms. You agreed and went back to the dojo later that day, unable to say no to him even though you were exhausted from work.

You were back in the office, trying your best not to yawn when Johnny or any of the kids were around. You sorted through the forms for the next few hours, with no end in sight. The phone finally rang, offering a welcome distraction.

“Cobra Kai Karate, how can I help?” You answered.

“Are you that teacher?” A lady questioned, annoyance heavy in her tone.

“No, Sensei Lawrence is busy with a class at the moment. Can I help you with something?”

“Help? You've gotta be joking! You can tell Mr. Lawrence that my lawyer is going to be in touch with him after what he did to my boy!” The woman on the phone angrily described how her son had come home one day with a bloody nose after Johnny elbowed him in the face because he was texting.

You tried not to swear under your breath, wondering how Johnny had done something so stupid. Holding your head in your hand, you kept pulling the phone away from your ear when she got particularly loud. She went on for the better part of ten minutes before she began to go through the story all over again. You half-listened as you searched through the files to find the consent form she signed.

“He shouldn't be allowed anywhere near children let alone teaching a class full of them!” While she was catching her breath, you took the opportunity to tell her that Sensei Lawrence doesn't use corporal punishment. You then began to cite the due diligence and individual liability clause on the form and personal injury waiver which states that the student agrees to be responsible for their own well-being.

You explained that if she was confirming that her child intentionally broke the liability clause by texting and not paying attention during class, then she has broken the agreement she signed on his behalf. She became even more agitated and continued to raise her voice. You pressed against your temple to try and relieve the growing headache to little success. She kept threatening to sue Johnny for aggravated assault and grievous bodily harm, saying that she'd make sure Cobra Kai was closed down for good.

You explicitly stated that there were no legal grounds for her to sue as she was responsible for the agreement being broken. Whether that was true or not you didn't know. You tried to calm her down by apologising for the incident several times over and insinuating that Johnny had done it by accident.

“I understand that it is distressing to see your child hurt, but there is always that element of risk in a martial art,” you told her. “That risk also exists in the real world and Cobra Kai is about being ready for the challenges that your child may have to face. I can assure you that the welfare and safety of every student is of paramount importance to Sensei Lawrence.”

Rather than mentioning her lawyer again, she said she would be writing a letter of complaint to the martial arts board, whoever they were. She continued to complain about Johnny's behaviour and made sure she got in the last word before hanging up. You put the phone down and huffed out a breath. The main class was over, through the window you saw only Aisha, Miguel and Hawk practising their kicks. Johnny had his arms crossed as he watched how they were doing.

You waved at him to get his attention and signalled him into the office when he looked your way.

“You need something?” He asked when he came in.

“Can you close the door?”

“What for?”

“I need to speak to you.” He didn't move and simply continued to stare at you curiously. “About something private.”

Thankfully he listened and closed the door behind him.

“Did you elbow a kid in the face because they were texting?”

“It's not like he didn't deserve it. He was disrespecting my class,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“I've been trying to convince that kid's mother not to sue you for bodily harm. What the fuck were thinking?”

“I barely touched the kid.”

“Things aren't how they used to be, Johnny.”

“They're just a bunch of pansy ass-”

“You can't pull this shit again,” you interrupted him angrily. “You can get sued, or they'll have you arrested for assault and they'll make sure you never go near kids again. And that includes Robby.” He stood silently. He clenched his jaw and pressed his lips together. Eventually he nodded in understanding. Johnny's eyes dropped away from you.

The frustration and the anger quickly faded as you realised how you had just spoken to him. You didn't stop to think how it wasn't your place. Rubbing your hands over your eyes, you stood up from the desk, knowing that you had to leave.

“I didn't. . .I didn't mean to raise my voice,” you told him honestly. He wasn't going to call you again.

“I just. . .” you trailed off. I care about you, was what you wanted to say, I care about you so much you stupid fucking bastard. “I should go.”

He didn't move from his position by the door as you approached him. Reaching around his body, you grabbed onto the handle but he placed his hand on top of yours.

“It's okay,” he murmured. You stared at his hand, unable to pull away from him even though you knew you should. “You're right.”

He gripped onto your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. Neither of you moved for a long moment as you stood right next to him. He sounded so sincere. You wanted to close your eyes, savour the feeling of his touch. The urge to put your arms around him was growing more intense with every second. This had to stop, you didn't trust yourself. Wrenching your hand away, you moved back to the other side of the desk, putting as much space between you as possible.

You didn't sit down, you didn't know whether to leave or to stay. At least with some distance from him it was easier to think clearly. He seemed to have listened to you. It was unfair that he had to be threatened with the prospect of not being able to visit his son for him to actually see reason. He found it so difficult to navigate past the depths of his rage, it always held him back. But in a way it had been the only thing that had protected him for so long.

“I'll be more careful,” he said wearily. “I should get back.”

He opened the door and resumed his teaching, telling Hawk to adjust his footing. You leant against the wall by the window so no one could see your hands covering your face. You were so fucking tired.

- - -

The tension with Johnny got worse. He seemed to be keeping his distance more than usual. You tried your best to ignore it, to put a polite smile on your face and keep focusing on the work at hand. But it was becoming exhausting. Each time you came back from the dojo, you smoked some weed, otherwise you wouldn't get any sleep.

You weren't able to keep up with the paperwork like you used to and frequently making mistakes certainly didn't help either. Sometimes you wondered whether there was a point in you being there at all. Johnny didn't say anything about it. But the fact that he was regularly asking you to come in twice a week rather than just the once, said more than enough.

You'd been in the dojo for about fifteen minutes and had made a decent start on processing a batch of student fees. Class wouldn't start for another half hour, but Miguel was already there doing some stretches. You heard Johnny tell him he was going next door to the mini-mall. A few moments later, Miguel was in the office saying hi to you again like he hadn't said it earlier when you came in. He didn't quite seem to know what to do with his hands.

“Are you um. . .you know. . .dating anyone?” He asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. You raised your eyebrows at him. “I mean I know you and Sensei used to. . .be together.”

“He told you that?”

“Uhh yeah.” Your hunch was proven right, it explained those meaningful looks Miguel had given you after first meeting him. “So. . .are you?”

“No. I'm not.” Miguel nodded and pursed his lips together. There was a weird sort of brightness in his eyes.

“Sensei isn't either,” he informed you. “In case you were wondering.” Before you could reply, the bell above the front door rang and Miguel promptly left the office without another word. Through the window you saw Johnny hand him a bag of ice to put away. You turned back to the paperwork, trying to convince yourself that he wasn't purposefully keeping away from you.

Miguel tucked the bag of ice into the freezer compartment of the refrigerator. Johnny called out to him from the dojo, asking him to grab his bag. Johnny had left it on the fold out chair on the other side of the desk, his black gi was in there. Did he want to avoid you that badly? You rankled at the thought and managed not to heave out a sigh until Miguel had left.

Over the duration of class, little progress had been made with the student fees. You couldn't focus on the numbers, only on the bleak thought of Johnny actively avoiding you. The next time he called, you needed to tell him you couldn't make it. This wasn't working out, maybe you could go once every couple of weeks, or once a month, it wouldn't be as bad then. You didn't know how much longer-

The sound of a hushed argument interrupted the thought. Hawk was almost brimming with anger as Miguel and Aisha spoke to him. Class must have finished a little while ago, a fair number of the kids had already left. Hawk then turned his attention to you and he glared. His body was tense, his hands were twitching like he was going to ball them into fists. The other two spoke to him for a few moments until he brushed past them to grab his bag.

Returning to your work, you briefly wondered what he was upset about, dismissing the idea of his anger being directed at you. It wasn't long until Aisha and Miguel came into the office and stood in front of the desk, neither of them bothering to take the lone seat.

“Is Hawk okay?” You queried, glancing through the window and noticing that he seemed to have left.

“He's fine,” Miguel replied but he didn't elaborate any further.

"We're all having a movie night next Saturday here in the dojo, and we were wondering if you wanted to join us?" Aisha asked, a hopeful expression on her face.

"Here?"

"Yeah, my dad's letting us borrow his projector.”

“It's kind of you to ask but-”

“Oh and we're gonna bring pillows and blankets for the mats rather than using chairs and Sensei's going to order pizza for us,” Miguel chimed in, doing his best to convince you to accept the offer. You wondered whether this was their way to try and break the tension between you and Johnny. Had they been picking up on it? You hadn't even considered whether it might be affecting them.

“I'm sure you'll have a great time,” you replied, wanting to let them down gently. “I won't be able to make it but thanks for asking.”

“Why? Are you busy?” Miguel questioned, he wasn't going to make this easy for you. There was a smug expression on his face when you hesitated to answer, as if he had caught you out and you supposed he had. You had to be honest with these kids.

“It's really not my place. If your Sensei is okay with me being there, then he can ask me,” you told them, hoping that they'd understand. Thankfully they appeared to and Miguel nodded before the two of them went back into the dojo. They were trying to clear the air. Were things really that bad? Was it that noticeable? Maybe coming back once a month was too optimistic.

You finished things about half an hour later and hoped you could leave without another awkward encounter with Johnny. He was holding up some pads for Miguel to kick. You waved them goodbye as you walked past and left the dojo. Before you could open up your car, Johnny called your name. You turned around and saw him approaching you, he stopped on the sidewalk.

“You're coming to movie night, yeah?” He asked obviously expecting a yes. You nervously played with the car keys, unsure of what to say. “The kids asked you, didn't they?”

“Yeah, they did.”

“So?”

“Um. . .I don't know.”

“We're watching the Last Dragon. None of them have seen it, can you believe that?” Johnny grumbled jokingly. He'd made you watch that cheesy action movie with him before, it must have been a couple of times at least. He moved closer until he was standing only a few feet from you. “Come on, it'll be fun.”

“The Last Dragon, huh? How many times have you made me watch that now?”

“Clearly not enough if you haven't said yes already,” he countered, you couldn't help but smile. The smirk that pulled up his lip made your heart ache pleasantly. He wasn't politely asking on behalf of the kids, he wanted you to be there.

“Next Saturday?”

“You can make it?”

“Yeah. . .I think so.”

“Great. I'm ordering pizza, you want your usual right?” For a moment, his casual question took you back but you were able to thank him. He said goodbye after that and your eyes followed him intently as he walked back into the dojo.

- - -

You were nervous.

It was stupid really, you were only going to watch a movie with a bunch of kids after all. But you hadn't done anything casual with Johnny for months, not since. . .before.

The work you did in the office held a level of civility and professionalism that you could hide behind. Now there would be nothing. On the way to the dojo, you stopped off at a grocery store and bought seven big bottles of soda for the kids and a couple stacks of soda cups. If they were having pizza, you figured soda wouldn't do too much damage. It wasn't as good a contribution, but at least it was something.

The Firebird was already there when you parked up. You hefted a few bags with all of the soda in and elbowed the front door open without dropping anything. Miguel and Aisha noticed you coming in and said hello, it looked as if they were in the process of setting up the projector and a laptop. Johnny's voice was coming from the office, but there was no one else around. Were you early? You got chatting to the two kids as you put the bags down in the corner. While you unpacked the soda and the cups, Miguel complimented the selection and joked whether he should hide a bottle or two from the others.

Before you could ask if they needed any help setting up the movie, Johnny walked into the dojo.

“Pizza's gonna be ready by the time I get there,” he announced, stopping when he spotted you. “Hey.”

“Hey, Johnny.” You offered something a little warmer than a polite smile as he came up to you. He was wearing jeans and a Zebra shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It had been a while since you'd seen him wear anything aside from the gi.

“You got all this?” He asked after he came up to you and took in the soda.

"Yeah, it's not much."

"Not much? This will keep them on a sugar high for a week," he joked. Johnny pulled out his car keys and went to move to the door but he hesitated. "Would you. . .mind coming with me? I could use all the help I can get."

"How much did you order?"

"Ten. . .extra large." Your eyebrows raised at his admission.

"You trying to feed them all week too?"

"I don't know how much these kids can put away." You were amused by the clueless expression on his face. “Let's go.”

You followed Johnny out to the Firebird and got into the passenger seat. It wasn't until after he'd pulled out of the lot that you remembered what happened the last time you were here. You had met him at some diner. He didn't say anything for a while, and when he did, he never apologised. After a brief look of guilt, he got angry at you, angrier than you'd ever seen him. You hadn't thrown away his apartment key like he'd suggested, how could you? Instead you'd kept it, for some reason holding out hope even though it was futile. Forcing your leg to stop bouncing, you concentrated on Johnny.

He was driving fast as usual with one hand on the wheel, he had some music playing at a rather low volume. For the most part he seemed pretty relaxed, he was strangely being more friendly with you than he had been for weeks. Slowly shifting in the seat, you tried to angle yourself slightly in his direction so you could see more of him. As it was almost dark outside, you hoped he wouldn't notice.

He looked good, much better than he was the last few months you were together. Part of you felt distraught, knowing that he was doing better without you, but those selfish thoughts needed to be ignored. His happiness was far more important. You just wished you could have given him that, you wished you could have given him the life he deserved. Maybe you'd been the one holding him back the whole time. Listening properly to the music, you recognised the song was one of Van Halen's, you couldn't quite remember what it was called but Johnny had played this one before.

The streets weren't busy so he could stretch the Firebird's legs out. The silence between you wasn't uncomfortable, but you were already missing that easy flow of conversation from earlier.

“What, no Zebra?” You wondered out loud. He glanced at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road.

“Huh?”

“Your shirt,” you explained. You almost laughed when he looked down at himself, like he'd forgotten what he was wearing. Automatically you reached over to the glove compartment, but stopped yourself to check whether he minded.

“You don't need to ask,” he replied, something a little off in his tone. Did he catch the amusement on your face? You didn't want him to think you were mocking him.

After rifling through the cassettes, you found one of Zebra's and got 'Tell Me What You Want' playing. Johnny turned up the volume and that was all the confirmation needed to know that he approved. Your feet started tapping in time with the music, the bass from the speakers was reverberating through your chest. You kept wanting to look over at Johnny to see whether he'd start singing, he couldn't help himself when a good song came on.

When he used to take you on long drives down the coast, he'd sing his heart. Sometimes he'd over do it and his voice would be hoarse by the end. He used to encourage you to sing and gently prod you if you clammed up with nerves. He was carefree, he didn't give a shit about keeping in tune or staying in the right key, it was about enjoying the moment.

You didn't realise how much you missed this, the open road, the music, just you and him. After the guitar solo, there was something about the shift in the song's rhythm and the lyrics that made your chest ache in longing. Somehow you always seemed to miss him the closer he was. Looking out the window, you tried to imagine that everything was okay, that you were still together and he had convinced you that he could splurge on some pizza tonight and when he took you home you'd have an Iron Eagle marathon long into the night.

“How are you doing?” He asked, pulling you out of the daydream. He'd turned the music down so he could hear your reply.

“I'm alright, how about you?”

“Just alright? Work causing you trouble?”

“It's not too bad at the moment. And you?

“Are you taking it easy like I said?”

“When I can, but how are you doing?”

“Hungry.”

“Not for long.”

“Those kids are Cobra Kai and they work hard so they're gonna have big appetites. Come to think of it, maybe ten wasn't enough. . .”

“We'd struggle to eat one large pizza between us, so I'm pretty sure there'll be enough.”

“Yeah but we had popcorn too and those stupid little candies that you like.”

“They're not stupid.”

“Yeah, they are, and don't even get me started on your pizza toppings.”

“My taste buds are just more developed than yours.”

“Developed huh? Isn't that what kids these days say to mean stupid?” You couldn't help but laugh heartily as Johnny pulled up to the pizza place. After he turned off the ignition, he gave you a strange look before getting out of the car. Though he didn't ask for you to go with him, you went anyway, figuring he'd need help carrying everything. He was walking a few steps ahead and you weren't sure if it would be weird to hurry up and match his pace.

There wasn't much of a queue in the pizza joint so it didn't take long before Johnny was taking out his wallet and paying for the order. You knew ten pizzas would cost a lot, but to see him hand it all over made it hit home uncomfortably. There was a crumpled up twenty in your pocket, it would barely make a dent but it was better than nothing. He wouldn't accept it so you'd have to find a way of sneaking it to him, maybe you could shove in the glove compartment when he wasn't looking.

Rather than putting the pizzas in the trunk, you offered to hold them as you got into the car. Johnny didn't protest and balanced the rest on top of what you had. Though the boxes were hot, they smelled damn good. He turned up the music and he drove to the dojo without striking up another conversation. You couldn't help but feel disappointed by that.

After parking up in front of the dojo, Johnny took half the pizzas from you and headed inside. You quickly grabbed the twenty dollars from your pocket and tossed it into the glove compartment before following him. He held open the door for you and your quiet thanks was drowned out by the sound of cheering.

All of the kids had turned up and the mats were covered in blankets and pillows. The soda had already been divvied out, the cups were everywhere. You wondered whether to get the mop out ready for the inevitable spill. Miguel and Aisha had set up the projector and the movie was paused on the opening credits. There were a couple of speakers on the floor too which you hadn't noticed before. Johnny coordinated handing the pizza out to everyone and made sure each of them got a slice of their choice.

With most of the kids settling down on the mats, you moved towards the empty space behind them. Hawk bumped into your shoulder, giving you a sarcastic woops before sitting down close to the front. You tried not to think much of it. He was being protective of his Sensei after all.

Sitting down behind the kids, you leant up against the wall. Johnny gave Aisha the go ahead to start the movie and turned off the main lights. The kids were still chatting amongst themselves whilst the credits played.

Johnny came over with a box of pizza, a blanket and two pillows. He didn't hesitate to settle down right next to you and hand over one of the pillows. Weren't they from his bed? While you eyed him questioningly, he went in for a slice and then encouraged you to do the same. As the movie got going, both of you made good progress on the pizza before you had to call it quits. You couldn't remember the last time you'd eaten this much.

When Johnny had finished, he put the box to one side and unfolded the blanket. He covered up his legs before doing the same to yours. For a moment, your body stilled, but you soon realised from the neutral expression on his face that you were assuming an intimacy that wasn't there. He was just being courteous, there was nothing more to do it. After taking off your shoes, you laid down on the floor to get more comfortable. You breathed in the smell from the pillow and barely stopped yourself from groaning. That was all Johnny, that was his smell. Fuck, you'd missed it, and the blanket smelled of him too.

Pulling up the blanket to reach your face, you watched Johnny as he enjoyed the movie. He'd have to turn his head and look down to get a proper look at you. A particular loud scene had you focusing on the movie for a while. You tried to appreciate the fight scenes, but it was a struggle to keep your eyes open. You were just too comfortable, and you were in that haze after eating too much food.

You closed your eyes and figured you could rest for a little while. When another particularly good scene came up, the kids would wake you up soon enough with their hollering and cheering and their oohs and ahhs. You snuggled against the blanket, more relaxed than you had been for a long time.

Johnny was close enough that you could feel the heat coming from him. He was warm. He always had been so warm. He'd never let you get cold. Even when you couldn't afford the heating bills.

On those rare cold winter nights, he made sure you were wrapped tight against him. . .tucked under the blanket and the bed sheets.

He always kept you warm. . .kept you safe- z z z Hope you enjoyed this one! I had originally planned to write my own story for Nanowrimo, but I figured I would get this one finished for you guys instead. Thanks for your support, it really helps me focus on getting each chapter finished. Was the angst sufficient for you? Hehe x Taglist: @whyhaveyouwritten-mehere @lacontroller1991 @stressedstark @wndrcarol @carissakingofthecastle92 @witchcraftandwit @magicwithaknife @80strashbag @jem-my-greatest-sin @masonsbitch @wholesomehen @chlqefrazer @actuallydrew @jem-my-greatest-sin @masonsbitch @wholesomehen @deadpoolgirl23

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence x reader #william zabka #cobra kai #atmo-x #i finally finished this chapter!#it's about 6k so enjoy #and happy halloween!!! x

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lightjenvlp · 3 years

Text

With Eyes Open

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You won’t come out of your room and Dean’s worried about you. He convinces you to open up and let him in.

Warnings: loneliness, not eating, family losses, slight depression, lack of self care.

Word count: 1,574

A/N: Based on feelings about my grandparents, named after this song. (Exaggerated things for plot.)

You’ve been hiding inside your room the last two days, after you, Sam, and Dean got back from the recent hunt. An older couple was killed by the time the three of you had arrived to town. Turns out the granddaughter had been turned into a werewolf and ate their hearts.

The situation reminds you too much of your own grandparents passing. Similar to the murdered couple, yours had died in bed together, already asleep when they’d passed. Now back at the bunker, all you can see behind your eyelids is your grandparents’ funeral, the roses on the coffins and your tears blurring your vision.

It’s been almost three years since their death, but it feels like yesterday. This case brought back thoughts you’d kept buried for so long. You’d hidden your grief from Dean and Sam as well as you could during the case, but as soon as you were able, you locked yourself inside your bedroom.

The last two days had consisted of you crying into your pillow until it was soaked, chest aching so much it hurt to breathe. You stayed as quiet as possible, struggling in the silence of your room. The boys tried to convince you to come out and eat, but you ignored their pleas.

Your lights stayed off, the room consumed in darkness. Tear tracks dried on your cheeks, and you couldn’t bother to change out of your clothes from two days ago. The consuming pain of loss filled you with grief and loneliness. Your grandparents had meant everything to you, and there was no way to describe life without them, except empty.

Dean and Sam had found you about a year and a half ago, your parents killed by a wendigo. They taught you how to hunt and get past the loss. They gave you a new home and a new family. Over the last few months, you’ve grown closer to Dean, and him to you. Sam is like your brother you never had, but Dean feels different. Your relationship has always been farther advanced.

Tap tap tap. Someone’s knocking on your bedroom door and you sniff. Your nose is stuffed from crying so much and your stomach hurts from lack of food. Your eyes stay shut, no point in opening them since it’s pitch black.

“y/n?”

It’s Dean.

“y/n, it’s me.” He pauses. “I just want to know you’re okay. You’ve been in there two days and I’m going insane.”

His feet shuffle behind the door, causing the lit space below the door to move.

“Let me in, please.” You breathe in shaky. Memories with your grandparents flash through your mind and it pulls the air from your lungs. “Please, y/n. I need you with me.”

How your body has any tears left, you don’t know. As they fall down your face and over your nose, your lips release a sob.

“y/n?” Dean’s voice is filled with concern as he stands behind the door. He tries the knob but it’s locked. “y/n please open the door!” He tries the knob again, but it’s futile to try.

You squeeze your eyes shut and tug your hair in agony. You want to open the door but you don’t want him seeing you like this; matted hair, puffy eyes, tear tracks, not eating.

“I’ll break the door down.” He says. “Please.” He pleads. His hand stays wrapped around the doorknob. You barely have energy to pull yourself up, much less stand. When you do, you sway side to side. You can’t see anything in the dark, only the line of light under the door. Stumbling towards it, your hand reaches for the door, making contact with the wood.

Dean must’ve heard you cause he doesn’t speak or bust down the door. Your shaky hand finds the doorknob and twists the lock. Turning the handle, the door creaks as it opens to the hallway. You squint at the increasing light coming through the opening, eyes adjusting.

You stare at Dean, a few inches from you, his face folded in worry and shock at your appearance. You take a breath, barely holding yourself up in his presence. He starts to move towards you - the faintest move of his arm - before he pauses, as if you’ll disappear when he touches you.

His mouth opens. “y/n?” He whispers and your face displays your grief. Your legs crumple, and you fall into his embrace as he catches you, his strong arms wrapping around your figure.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay.” He speaks in a hushed tone. “You’re alright, I’ve gotcha.”

He lowers you to the floor, carefully positioning your back against the bunker wall, your feet in front of you, him to your right. Gently leaning your head back, his fingers move across your face and head as soft as butterfly wings. Tracing the tear tracks on your cheeks and running his fingers through your greasy hair, you breathe in deep.

“That’s it, sweetheart, breathe for me. I’ll be right back, alright?” You nod as he stands up and begins his jog back down one of the bunker’s many hallways. You breathe in and out and try to make yourself look a bit more presentable even though there’s no point.

When Dean returns with Sam on his heels, the older brother is carrying a washcloth, a pair of sweats, and one of his sleep shirts. Sam seems to have come from the kitchen, carrying toast, and a glass of water.

“Hey, y/n, how ya feeling?” Sam asks, squatting next to you and setting the food down, eyes filled with concern. You give him a watery smile and your chest aches again as a tear slips down your face. Dean squats in front of you and uses the warm washcloth to pat your sticky face free of the tears accumulated over the last two days.

“That’s okay, y/n.” Sam smiles gently. “We all have tough days. You’ll get through this.” He says. You reach out for his hand and he grabs yours in his, squeezing softly.

“y/n, do you think you can eat and drink something for us?” Dean asks calmer than when he first saw you in the hallway.

You nod, your throat begging for water. Dean picks up the glass, carefully brining it to your lips. You gulp down half before he stops you so you don’t get sick. “Good. Try to eat a bit of toast, too, darling.”

After you eat half of the piece of toast, Dean picks you up and helps you to the bathroom, running a bath before washing your hair and helping you into his clean sweats and sleep shirt. He takes you to his room, where Sam put the refilled water and remaining toast.

Helping you into the covers, Dean silently observes you with his eyes. You haven’t said a word since he came to your door earlier in the day. Making sure you’re comfortable, he changes into his own T-shirt and sleep shorts before climbing in bed next to you.

You initiate the embrace, moving closer and burying your face in his chest as his warm arms wrap around your body once more. He places a light kiss on your head and rubs your back, his calloused fingers tracing circles through your shirt.

“I’ve got you.” He whispers in your ear. He holds you for the longest time; your breathing evens out and you slowly melt into his hold, closing your tired eyes. You don’t fall asleep. The darkness consumes you and your body feels like it might implode.

“De-“ Your voice cracks. “Dean?” It’s the first thing you’ve said all day.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” The hunter replies, shocked to hear you talking.

Tears fill your eyes and you feel ashamed for locking yourself away from the brothers without any explanation.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks as tears fall down your cheeks and just barely seep into Dean’s shirt. His hand moves to your jaw and gently pulls your face from his chest. You look at him with watery eyes.

“y/n, you don’t have to be sorry for anything. I’m not mad, Sam’s not mad.” He says and you nod your head. His mouth turns up into a small smile and it reassures you. You look away at one of the bedrooms walls, wiping your tears with your thumb.

“My grandparents,” you start but your throat clenches. “They passed almost three years ago. I just...the hunt...it...they died in their sleep.” A pained noise escapes your throat and Dean sighs, realizing. He grabs your hands in his.

“The hunt brought back memories.” He says and you nod, sniffling, looking down at the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you’ve been struggling with this.”

You squeeze his hands gently and look into his eyes.

“It’s not your fault. I pushed it down and never dealt with it. It was bound to come out some time.” You let go of his hands and wrap your arms around his waist, tucking your head into his neck.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” Your warm breath tickles his skin. “Thank you for taking care of me Dean.”

“I’ll always be here y/n. Your pain is valid and I love you so much.” He replies, holding your body to his and breathing you in, glad you’re with him now.

“I love you too, Dean.” You smile softly.

With Dean, you’ll be able to fight through the pain and find the light.

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #jensen ackles #spnfandom #supernatural fandom #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #spn x you #dean x you #spn x reader #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #bunker #spn bunker

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loving-inkpressions · 3 years

Text

Love On The Brain [2/2]

Summary: It started with just wanting to break free from her past, then it led her to finding so much more in the arms of a tattoo artist. But will Denali let herself heal and fall completely? And what about Rosé? What does she want?

Warning: Past abuse, gaslighting

Prefer reading it on AO3?

“Poor Denali, look at you. What makes you think that Rosé was ever serious about you? How could you have been so stupid and fallen for a woman like her? You’re nothing but a stupid girl. A liability. A pest. Why sully someone as perfect as her with your useless self?”

———

Rosé wasn’t sure when it started, but she noticed that Denali had slowly begun pulling away from her. It hadn’t been very obvious at first.

In the beginning, Denali had started making excuses about not being able to spend as much time with her, citing that she had to focus on the sectionals for her students. Whenever they did meet, she seemed to avoid Rosé’s gaze and her smiles never seemed to quite meet her eyes, her dimples barely showing. The other day when Rosé had tried to hold her hand when she was walking Denali home, she had practically jumped at the skin contact and shoved her hands into her pockets, commenting on how cold it was that evening.

To say that Rosé wasn’t hurt would be a lie. She wanted to ask Denali what happened. Did she do something wrong? Was she alright? But at the same time, she didn’t want to push her, wanted to give Denali the space and time she needed.

But then one day, it was as if Denali had disappeared. Her one worded replies to Rosé’s texts ceased completely, and she stopped answering Rosé’s calls.

Rosé started to worry and had dropped by the rink, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of the girl to make sure that she was alright, but Denali wasn’t anywhere to be found that day, or the next.

A week. She’d give Denali a week, and then she’d go find her. To make sure that she was okay.

Even if she had to break down her door to do it.

Rosé couldn’t lose Denali, not after realising how much she loved her.

———

At first Denali hadn’t meant to pull away from Rosé, but she was scared. When she had realised how deep her feelings ran for Rosé, the voices started coming back full throttle.

They’d snipe at her, make fun of her, question why Rosé was even with her when she could do so much better. It was a struggle every day to face Rosé when her chest was seized with doubts and anxieties. Denali tried, she really did. She’d shoot back at the voices, telling them if Rosé didn’t care for her, then why would she even bother?

“Because you’re easy. You’ve opened your legs so easily for her. Like a slut.”

The words always bit back harder, got crueller and meaner the harder she fought.

“She can do so much better than you. Look at her, now look at you. Pathetic.”

At nights, she’d curl up in her own bed under the sheets, too ashamed to spend the night with Rosé no matter how much she wanted to. She’d rub her fingers against the snowflake earrings that Rosé had given her.

She still remembered that night so well.

Denali gave one last languorous stroke with her tongue to Rosé’s centre as the tattoo artist’s thighs trembled from the aftershocks of her release. Smiling against her soaked folds, Denali wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and pushed herself up to kiss Rosé’s cheek, smiling when the other woman wrapped her arm around her and nuzzled her ear in return.

“Denali?” Rosé whispered in her ear.

“Yes, Rosie?”

“Close your eyes, I have a surprise for you.”

Raising her eyebrows at Rosé’s playful expression, Denali closed her eyes. She heard the sound of the sheets rustling, felt the bed shift as Rosé moved about before she finally settled back down.

“Now open your eyes.”

Opening her eyes, Denali gasped when she saw Rosé holding open a small box containing a dainty pair of diamond snowflake earrings.

“I know you said that you liked the studs that you’re wearing, but I saw these and-“

“I love them.” Denali blurted out as she sat up, touching the earrings.

Rosé grinned. “Really?”

Denali nodded, dimples popping as she smiled back, her heart warmed and felt full at the gesture. “Can I- Can I wear them now? I know it’s rude to open presents in front of the gifter, but-“

“Oh baby, it’s not rude if the gift is already open. And I’d love you to.” Rosé interjected. Nodding vigorously, Denali removed the dark blue studs she had on and set them carefully on the bedside table. She reached for the snowflake earrings, but Rosé pulled them away from her hands.

“Let me, princess.”

Denali blushed as Rosé unscrewed the first earring and carefully put it in for Denali, smirking as she shivered at her touch, then the other. Pushing Denali’s curls behind her ears, Rosé smiled softly, tilting her head from side to side with gentle fingers, and kissed Denali on the forehead.

“Perfect.”

The earrings meant so much to Denali. They meant that Rosé had thought of her, was thinking of her, and that Denali meant something to Rosé. Enough to walk into a store and purchase them for her.

“Stupid girl, anyone could buy those earrings. What makes you think you’re so special?”

Denali could see that she was hurting Rosé when she started to pull away, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like hurting Rosé, didn’t like seeing the confusion and pain in her eyes, but she couldn’t help it. Every time she touched Rosé, she could feel herself dirtying the other girl, practically see her skin being sullied under her touch, and she felt herself wither and die inside.

And then one day, she just couldn’t bring herself to see Rosé anymore, talk to her, reply her. Denali felt herself shut down under the barrage of voices and doubts.

Soon, she had lost track of the number of days when she couldn’t even bring herself to get out of bed, never mind her house.

At first, Denali had called in sick to work for a week, telling them it was the flu and that she didn’t want to infect the kids and the next thing she knew, she had told them that she needed some personal time off. The people at the rink had been kind and warm and told her to take all the time that she needed. The problem was Denali wasn’t sure how long she needed.

She didn’t mean for this to happen, but it was just so hard to even move without feeling like she was a burden to the world.

But then she ran out of food, and she didn’t want to rely on delivery or take out, knowing how much it would cost her, and her savings could only go so far. Denali was at least at a stable enough state of mind to know her limits when it came to necessities. When her stomach rumbled and there was only a handful of dry cornflakes left in the back of the kitchen cabinets, Denali knew she had to leave the house to get some food.

Pulling on an oversized hoodie that she vaguely recognised as Rosé’s over a pair of track pants, Denali left her apartment and walked towards the elevator, her hands tucked into the front pocket of the hoodie. It still smelled faintly of the redhead, something that Denali took comfort in as she buried her nose in it, ignoring the poisonous snickers in her ear.

Just as she was a few feet away from the lift landing, she heard the familiar sound of the elevator chime and the door sliding open to reveal the very same redhead in the cab.

Denali stopped breathing as she stood in shock, unable to process that Rosé was there standing just a few feet away from her.

Both women stared at each other, neither moving a muscle, as if waiting to see what the other would do.

“Denali?”

Denali felt herself waver when she heard the voice that she had been both longing and dreading to hear. Rosé was looking at her as if she was finally seeing the sun after being in the dark for so long, and Denali didn’t know what to make of it, didn’t know how to process the look in her eyes. All she could hear was Samantha’s voice in her ears and her lower lip trembled.

Before Rosé could take a single step, Denali turned to run, her thoughts racing in panic.

She had to get away.

She couldn’t do this.

She wasn’t ready.

She wasn’t ready to face Rosé.

Just when she reached her apartment door, she felt fingers wrap around her wrist and stop her in her tracks, turning her around.

“Let go of me-”

“Denali, please-“

“No, let me go-“

“Denali-“

“I don’t want to see you!”

Rosé’s grip loosened at that and Denali almost broke free, but the other woman seemed to regain her senses and she was jerked back against Rosé’s body. A body that knew hers intimately, that had held her tightly to theirs on so many nights, that knew almost every crevice of her own body. That did nothing to calm her down and instead Denali struggled harder in Rosé’s hold.

“Denali please, I am not losing you-“

“No, let go of me-“

“You mean too much to me-”

“I don’t want to hear it-“

“Damn it, Denali, I love you!”

Denali froze. “What?” She looked at Rosé, and her heart clenched at the expression she saw on her face.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

Denali shook her head, hand pressed against her mouth. “You have to be.”

“But I’m not.” Rosé replied, face set and eyes determined.

“You can’t.” Denali felt herself crack, the tears she was trying so hard to hold back starting to fall.

“But I do.”

She felt gentle fingers on her cheeks, felt thumbs wiping her tears away and the next thing Denali knew she was weeping into Rosé’s arms, in the arms of the woman she had been longing to see and be with all this time.

And for once, the voices were silent.

———

Rosé sat next to the bed, fingers caressing Denali’s cheek as she lay asleep, her other hand clutched tightly in Denali’s grip.

The redhead watched as Denali slept, her chest rising and falling steadily, and she took in Denali’s condition. Her once bright skin seemed almost translucent and pale, her cheeks a little sunken and her hair matted, as if it hadn’t been washed in a while. Rosé was worried. She hadn’t thought that Denali would deteriorate to this extent. Initially, she had thought that maybe Denali had just needed some time and space to process things, but it looked like it hadn’t been the case.

Stroking Denali’s cheek with her thumb, she got up after carefully pulling her hand out of Denali’s hold. Looking around, Rosé noted how Denali’s usually neat room was a mess, with clothes strewn about and a few empty bottles on her dresser. She was pretty sure that the rest of Denali’s apartment would be in a similar state.

Steeling herself, Rosé rolled up her sleeves and set about to help right the mess that was Denali’s home. From the looks of the brunette, she’d also need to replenish her fridge and cook something for her to eat.

Rosé didn’t mind it. She was more than happy to look after Denali.

Anything for the woman that she loved.

———

Denali’s nose twitched as the scent of food wafted into her bedroom and her stomach rumbled hungrily. Licking her dry lips, her eyes fluttered open as her vision focused and Denali registered that her once messy room was now neat, cleaner than it was before. Frowning, she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes before remembering what had happened.

She had been crying in Rosé’s arms, and the other woman had let her, holding her safely in her embrace. After a while, Rosé had gently asked for her keys, and once she had them, had unlocked the door. She hadn’t let Denali walk in, instead sweeping her into her arms and locking the door behind them. Rosé had carried her to bed, tucked her under the covers, and sat by her side as Denali held her hand, Rosé caressing her cheek as she drifted off to sleep. The most peaceful sleep that she’d had in a while.

Sniffling, Denali moved to get out of bed and padded out to the kitchen where the smells were coming from to find Rosé standing over the stove, stirring something in a pot. It was the first time Denali had seen her cooking in her house, and it somehow made her feel a little warm and fuzzy inside, struck by how domestic it looked.

“Rosie?”

The redhead turned around, ladle in hand and an apron round her waist, and Denali couldn’t help the small giggle that burst from her lips at the sight.

“Denali.”

Rosé set the ladle down and rushed over, wrapping Denali in her arms. “Baby, you’re up.”

Denali snuffled into the crook of Rosé’s neck and tentatively wrapped her own arms around Rosé’s waist, feeling a sense of calm take over her as she breathed in the familiar musk of vanilla. The scent that was so uniquely Rosé and something she had sorely missed.

“You’re still here.”

Rosé chuckled. “I never left, princess. Well, I did for a bit, but only to buy some groceries.”

“You bought groceries?” Denali asked, pulling away a little in surprise. Rosé smiled down at the wide eyed girl, tapping her nose with her finger.

“Well, of course. How else can I cook you something delicious if there’s no food to be found in your house?”

“Oh, right…” Denali muttered as she looked away, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Rosé had just seen her at her weakest, seen the mess that had been her home and the state she had been. She felt gentle fingers on her chin as she was made to look into Rosé’s eyes.

“Hey, no more overthinking. It’s alright, you have nothing to be ashamed of. We all need a little help sometimes, right?” Swallowing, Denali nodded and Rosé smiled, pressing a light kiss to her forehead before pulling away.

“Now, why don’t you go take a shower while I finish dinner.”

Denali blinked. “Dinner?”

“Yes princess, it’s dinner time. It’s almost seven.” Rosé replied, pointing at the wall clock nearby.

“I- I didn’t even notice.” Denali stuttered, her face heating up.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. And before you say anything, I’m here because I want to be. Now go, shoo. Go take that shower and wash those dried tears off that pretty little face of yours.”

When Denali didn’t move, Rosé smirked.

“Unless you want my help with that too..?”

And with that, Denali scurried to her bathroom, the sound of Rosé’s warm laughter echoing pleasantly through Denali’s apartment and made her smile.

———

When Denali emerged from the steaming bathroom, her hair damp and clothed in a fresh cotton tee and soft shorts, Rosé had finished cooking dinner and served them in bowls at the kitchen island.

She had cooked for them a dinner of thick creamy chicken soup with chunks of potato, something savoury yet easy to eat and digest. A plate of bread rolls and cool glasses of water helped to finish the meal off. They sat together and ate in silence. Once everything had been finished Rosé had ushered Denali to sit on the couch and watch something while she washed up, and later she joined her, wrapping them both in a blanket.

It was just comfortable, almost as if the day and the past few weeks hadn’t happened, like they were back to normal, but Denali was starting to feel jittery inside, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for Rosé to take her words back. Her mind was racing so much, the voices starting to whisper again that she hadn’t realised that she was physically starting to shake until Rosé tugged her close, hands rubbing up and down her arms as she whispered soothing words in her ear, and only then did she calm down.

As the time ticked late into the night and Denali’s eyes began to droop, they both moved to retire. After Rosé had tucked Denali into bed, she hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should leave, but Denali only had to look at her, her hand grabbing Rosé’s as she whispered.

“Stay.”

And Rosé did.

———

It took some time for them to get back to where they were before. Denali was still a little closed off and wary, but Rosé was unendingly patient, coaxing her back out of her shell.

For the a while, the two of them were practically connected at the hip. Rosé refused to leave Denali’s side unless she absolutely had to, and Denali let her. There were times when she wanted to ask Rosé to leave, but then she realised that it wasn’t her that wanted Rosé to leave, but the voices. The more Rosé was around, the quieter the voices were and the more Denali started to better differentiate her own wants and needs.

Without meaning to, Rosé had slowly started to bring her own things over to Denali’s place, and before either of them had realised it, Denali had practically emptied a drawer just for the redhead’s belongings.

Rosé also started to stay over most nights now.

There was never any sex when Rosé was in Denali’s bed. Instead, they’d just lay together under the sheets talking the night away until either of them fell sleep, or sometimes they’d just lie in comfortable silence together. One thing that never changed though was how they’d always be touching each other. Sometimes their legs would be tangled together, sometimes they’d fall asleep while holding hands, sometimes Rosé would spoon Denali, bodies pressed tightly together till they were almost one being.

Though she’d never admit it, Rosé’s favourite position to fall asleep in was when Denali was the one holding her, with the tattoo artist’s head pressed against the brunette’s chest so that she could hear Denali’s steady heartbeat. There were times when Rosé was afraid that Denali would shut her out indefinitely, so those were the moments she savoured, when Denali’s heart was less than an inch away, beating steadily for her and only her.

———

“How long do yo think she’ll stay? She’ll eventually get sick of-“

“That isn’t true. She said that she loves me.”

“She only said it once. What makes you think that she still feels that way?”

“Because she’s still here.”

———

“Rosie?”

“Yes, princess?”

“Did you mean it when you said that you loved me?”

There was a pause, and then the sound of sheets rustling. Hands cradle cheeks and fingers caress delicate cheekbones.

“I meant it then, and I mean it now, Denali. I love you.”

Eyes flutter shut as lips press against a forehead.

Silence.

“You don’t have to say it back, you don’t have to do anything. I know that you need time, and I am willing to wait.”

One body shifts closer to the other, smaller hands cradle smooth cheeks, fingertips teasing pink strands.

“But what if I want to say it?”

Breath stills and hopeful hazel eyes stare back into vulnerable brown ones.

“I love you too, Rosie. So much.”

Tears fall as tentative lips press against the other’s.

A kiss to seal a promise of love.

———

Months passed since Denali had admitted to Rosé that she loved her. In that period of time, their relationship slowly blossomed into the flower that it had always destined to be. They were happy together, even more so now that their love was acknowledged and reciprocated by the other.

It was as if those three words had unlocked something in both of them, and they found themselves saying it to each other all the time.

Denali would say it when she kissed Rosé good morning.

Rosé would say it when they brushed their teeth together.

Denali would say it when she dropped by the tattoo parlour with lunch in hand.

Rosé would say it when she picked Denali up from the rink.

Denali would say it as they cuddled on the couch in the evenings.

Rosé would say it as she made love to Denali at night.

They would both whisper it to each other before falling asleep.

One quiet day when Denali was hanging around the tattoo parlour, Rosé had popped the question.

“Do you want to move in with me?”

There was almost no hesitation because to Denali, any place was home as long as Rosé was there.

“Yes.”

———

The two of them were out grocery shopping together. Rosé was off looking for new wines for them to try while Denali stood alone in the cereal section contemplating which ones to get. No matter how old she was, Lucky Charms would always be her favourite, even if they did make Rosé wrinkle her nose and tease her about her tastes. But then Denali would only tease Rosé back for being boring and sticking to plain cornflakes with milk.

Maybe today was the day she’d try something new, if only to show Rosé she had a wider palette than just Lucky Charms.

Denali was contemplating between coco puffs and frosted flakes when the hairs on her arms began to stand and the voice that haunted her was suddenly very real and right behind her.

“Denali?”

She shut her eyes.

No no no no no, she wasn’t really here. This couldn’t be real. Not now. Not when everything was fine. Not when everything was perfect. Not when she had Rosé.

“Denali, love?”

Her skin crawled at the affectionate term, not liking how it slid out and wrapped around her like a snake, squeezing her lungs.

Knowing she couldn’t delay it any longer, Denali turned around and the blood in her veins seemed to turn to ice as she faced her ex.

“Samantha.” Denali acknowledged, voice low, her hands trembling a little.

Just think of Rosé, just think of Rosé.

“Sweetheart, you’re here. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Samantha took a step toward Denali and she flinched, taking a step back. There was a beat of silence as Samantha stared at Denali, the expression on her face darkening just a little when Denali had stepped away from her. She looked down at the basket at Denali’s feet, to the boxes of sugary cereals around them, then back to Denali’s face.

“Are you getting those Lucky Charms of yours again? You know how bad they are for you, especially if you want to maintain that figure of yours.”

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

“Though you’ve never looked better. You look good, love. Maybe a little time away from each other really did do you some good.”

That’s right, it did do me good. Being away from you was the best move I ever made.

“I’ve tried to reach out to you, but it never seemed to work. One would think that you were purposely trying to block me out.”

That’s right, I don’t want you in my life anymore.

“But sweetheart, I think it’s time we got back together, don’t you agree? I really do still love you, even after all this time.”

Don’t say those words. Don’t stain them with your lies.

“I’m willing to forgive and forget. Come back to me sweetheart, and we can pretend all this never happened.”

Denali stared at Samantha’s outstretched hand, then back at her.

She wasn’t serious, was she? How could she after everything she had done? After everything she had said to her?

Before she could open her mouth and reply, Denali felt arms wrap around her and tug her back towards a familiar body. “Who’s this, princess?” Swallowing, Denali turned to look at Rosé and saw how the expression on her face was dangerously calm, her eyes trained on the other woman in front of them.

“Rosé, this is Samantha.” Denali replied hoarsely.

There was a flash of recognition at her ex’s name, and the arms around her tightened protectively.

“I see.”

Samantha eyed the couple, eyes narrowed as she withdrew her hand.

“So you’ve moved on.”

“It seems she has.” Rosé replied in Denali’s place.

There was tense moment where Samantha and Rosé stared each other down. It seemed like Samantha was contemplating something, like she wanted to say or do something, but when she saw Rosé’s protective stance, the fierce glare in her eyes, she knew she had lost.

Samantha nodded. “Right, goodbye then Denali.”

And she turned around and walked away.

The tension that had been in both Rosé and Denali’s bodies melted away, and Denali turned around in the circle of Rosé’s arms and wrapped her arms around the other girl’s waist. Rosé sighed and dropped a kiss on the crown of Denali’s head, hands rubbing her shoulders.

“Princess, are you alright?”

Nodding, Denali looked up at Rosé.

“Take me home, Rosie.”

———

Denali shuddered, her nails digging into Rosé’s shoulders as she whimpered, the feeling of the redhead’s strap stretching her and filling her completely, robbing her of any thought. She could feel the familiar smirk that she loved against the crook of her neck, feel the fingers digging into the meat of her hips, pressing her down, feel Rosé’s hips pressed almost flush against her own, and it felt almost too much. Rosé cooed words of praise into her ear, fingers fluttering up and down her waist to comfort her, and once she felt Denali start to relax, she began to move.

Each roll of her hips left her gasping, Rosé nailing that sweet spot in her almost every time and it made Denali wrap her legs around the other woman’s waist, heels digging into the small of her back as Rosé thrust into her.

“Denali, look at me.”

She opened her eyes and whimpered at the look of raw lust and stark love in Rosé’s eyes, her hands now behind Rosé’s neck as she clung onto her. The redhead leaned down and kissed her, the brutal pace of her hips never relenting as she kissed Denali, tongue sweeping into her mouth, teasing her. The brunette eagerly reciprocated, tangling her tongue with hers. Denali shuddered as she felt fingers trail their way to her core, bucking up and gasping when they found their way to her wet folds, sliding to her clit and circling and teasing her.

Denali disconnected their lips and threw her head back, feeling her pleasure crest and she keened as the waves of pleasure consumed her. Rosé slowed her thrusts, but didn’t stop completely, instead delivering slower and deeper strokes, drawing out Denali’s orgasm and before she knew it, her walls tightened and she felt another wave hit her.

Sobbing, Denali clung onto the redhead for dear life as she trembled from the aftershocks. Rosé finally slowed down, choosing to grind into her soft and slow the way she knew the brunette liked when she was coming down. She peppered Denali’s face with kisses, kissing away the tears that were leaking beneath closed lids and slowly eased the strap out of her.

Undoing and tossing the strap aside, Rosé unwrapped Denali’s legs from around her waist and slid down her body, kissing and nipping at the sweat damp skin. She pressed soft kisses onto the skin of Denali’s belly then pulled herself back up to tug the younger woman into her arms, running her fingers through her hair.

Denali looped hearts with her fingertips on Rosé’s chest, pressing a kiss in each one until she was pressing her lips against Rosé’s, their tongues sliding against each other, their bodies intertwined.

Pulling away, Denali smiled and lay down next to Rosé, both their hearts beating together as one.

Both hearts forever connected by the love that they shared.

———

“I love you, Denali.”

“And I love you too, Rosé.”

———

And with that, Love On The Brain is complete. The final part might a bit shorter than I would have liked, but it has a lot more emotions in it with a different style than what I normally write.

Whoever is reading this, I hope you've enjoyed reading this fic as much as I've enjoyed writing it. (:

#rosenali #rpdr fanfiction #love on the brain fic #inkpression writes

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pedrobois-fanfic-collections · 3 years

Text

MandoxReader The Escapee: Pt3

Please comment, thank you so much for those who have commented

“This looks like a good one, don’t you think?” You asked, glancing down at the child. Standing on your toes, you reached into the fruit tree, trying to grab the plumpest fruit and tug it from its stem.

You nearly screamed as you felt a hand on your shoulder, spinning around and all but stumbling to the ground. Soft laughter came from somewhere by your knee. Thankfully, Mando seemed to have anticipated this and kept a firm grip on your shoulder, keeping you upright.

“Kriff, you move quiet.” You glanced down at Grogu.

“Sorry.” Mando tilted his head. The visor fixated on your face.

You felt your cheeks heating up, wondering what his eyes looked like underneath it, knowing something underneath gazed at you with some sort of intensity. Surely if you could feel it through his helmet, his gaze had to be as strong. Clearing your throat, you glanced away, only now realizing he still had his hand on your shoulder.

Mando seemed to realize this and quickly pulled away, clearing his throat.

Grogu looked between the two of you, a smile on his face. Soft noises came from him as he gurgled at the two of you, raising his hands up at Mando.

Mando knelt down and picked Grogu up, resting the little guy on his hip and allowing Grogu to look around from waist height and view the world. Smiling, Grogu gripped Mando’s thumb and stared at you, tilting his head and twitching his hears, waving his free hand.

“He’s taken a liking to you.” Mando said softly.

“Oh, you think so?” You reached over and rubbed the little guy’s ear. Grogu cooed in response.

Beneath the helmet, Din smiled. “You’re an excellent cook. He and I have gotten along well enough just the two of us, but, it could do us well to have another.” Mando trailed off.

You looked up from Grogu. “Huh?”

“If you wanted.” Mando hesitated, “I could pay you handsomely. I know you have an established home here, a settled life, but Grogu has taken a liking to you and I don’t want to upset him.” He seemed to be stumbling over his words, as though speaking so many in a row was painful.

“Are you kidding? A reason to get off this wet jungle? Of course I’d take it. And the little guy is so sweet.” You held your arms out and Mando hesitantly handed Grogu over to you. “Do you hear that? We get to go on adventures together!” You glanced up at Mando and felt your heart flutter as you saw him looking protectively down at you cradling the child in your arms. You tickled Grogu’s stomach with your finger and he giggled. “So I get to see the galaxy, with uh, you?” You paused, “the two of you, I mean, Mandalorians are bounty hunters right?”

Mando inclined his head.

“That’s an awfully dangerous profession for a little guy.” You looked down at Grogu, “Is that what you were doing here, when he wandered off?”

Mando nodded.

“Where I go, he goes.” Mando looked up towards the sky. The rain increased its intensity. “I think sometimes it might be best if he had a chance to avoid some of the extreme parts of my job though.”

You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head knowingly. “Yea, I could tell you that.”

Mando looked back down at you. He didn’t seem very amused. “Did you get what you needed from here? We need to leave, you should go back and pack your things.” He paused. You hadn’t actually agreed. “Assuming you want to.”

“Uh, yes, of course I want to.”

Mando nodded, “Ok. Then let’s go.” He gestured to take Grogu back and you reluctantly accepted before turning and leading the way down the path.

As you walked, you talked. “So, does that shiny armor rust? Bheskar?”

“No.”

“Oh that’s convenient. Does it keep you dry here?” Your cloak was, at this point, just keeping the rain plastered to your skin. You wondered about Grogu, and you glanced back. Mando had wrapped him tight in his cloak. The cloak seemed treated with some sort of waterproofing chemical but even that was quickly permeated with the damp.

“Yes.”

“Your cape?”

“Not so much.”

You nodded, “I have some extra dry cloaks, I’ll change when we get back. Hopefully we can rig something up for the kid.”

“Thank you.” Mando sounded grateful that you were already thinking ahead for Grogu.

You fell quiet, wondering what he looked like underneath the armor. He cared a lot for the kid. Were they related? Partially related? You stifled a giggle at the thought of Mando taking his helmet off and large green ears popping out.

It took all your willpower not to turn around and stare at that moment.

Then again, Mando was tall and imposing, and the kid was… very small.

‘Children are very small.’ You thought to yourself. How often are Mandalorians non humans? ‘Quite a lot.’ From what you had heard. Zabraks, Mirialans, Twi’leks maybe? He’s probably not a Twi’lek, couldn’t hide the lekku. Could be a Mirialan, would explain the green son. Then again, he had never outright called Grogu his son…

You cast a glance over your shoulder.

Mando walked in silence, holding his cape over Grogu and trying to keep him dry as possible while Grogu whined pitiably.

Finally the three of you arrived at your home.

You quickly ducked inside with Mando following shortly after.

Reaching for dry materials, you tossed them to Mando and he vigorously dried at Grogu, trying to warm him up and get the rain off him as you tried to do the same for yourself.

You gathered up a bag of your belongings, sealing it tight. At first you considered changing, but you knew you would just head back out into the rain only to be soaked again. No, that could wait until you got to his ship.

When you were happy with all your possessions in your meagre existence, you found the last of your cloaks. You wrapped one snug around Grogu, and a fresh one around yourself. You hung your old one to dry in case any weary traveler came across your home and needed it. Then you shut out the lights, turned back to your new employer, and began the next chapter of your life.

After a long trek, your trio reached Mando’s ship, the Razor Crest, soaked to the bone. Between your extra cloak and Mando’s cape, Grogu was relatively well off.

You were not so lucky.

You sopped into the ship, rain coming off of you in streams, your hair matted to your face.

“There’s a spare bunk over there. Sorry, there’s not much space. The Crest isn’t exactly designed for a large crew.” Mando muttered, the helmet fixated on you. Din’s gaze eyed you up and down as you took the cloak off. Your clothes stuck to your figure.

You glanced back at him, feeling exposed as you searched for a towel. “Uh right.”

Mando turned, “’Fresher’s over there, if you want to,” his voice deepened, sounding gruff, he jerked the helmet towards it.

You smiled, pulling your bag towards yourself, more for modesty’s sake. “Thanks.” Slipping past him, you entered into the ‘fresher and closed the door, all your possessions in one small bag.

Din watched you go, wishing he could stop staring.

Grogu cooed in his arms, tugging on Din’s finger, looking up at his dad. Din glanced down. “Don’t be like that.” Din muttered.

Grogu giggled.

Din shook his head, “C’mon, let’s get you dried off. I don’t want you getting sick with something.” The sound of the ‘fresher turned on made his stomach tighten and he forced the thought from his mind, turning towards the ladder and climbing up the cockpit, Grogu in hand.

Once in the pilot’s seat, Din turned on one of the heaters full force, setting the kid in front of it so it would dry out his simple tunic. Din handed Grogu his favorite ball to keep him occupied, then set about starting up the Crest and finally started takeoff, glad to be off that blasted wet planet.

You leaned against the wall of the ‘fresher, sighing heavily. This was one of the first decent showers you’d had in ages. How many years had it been since you didn’t have to have a bath? You held your face under the hot water and let it pour down on you, washing the filth of the forest and the trudge through jungle, soothing your pores and just coming alive again with the warmth. You couldn’t remember the last time water had been something of comfort to you.

The shower water beat down on your skin in a soothing rhythm, warming and massaging you, and you let out a soft sigh, just relaxing into the heat of it, letting yourself soak it all in.

You glanced down at the soaps you had brought, which you liked well enough, then hesitated. This was a job you had been hired for. You were going to exotic locales, marketplaces, new planets and cities, maybe even Coruscant, the home of trade and produce.

You would have credits to spend. What could you buy?

What would you need?

You had a home. You would have supplies for food, you just had to make it. You’d probably be expected to pitch in for food, but exotic food that you had never tried before to make new dishes and recipes? That’s not something you were going to complain about. Medical supplies probably, another complaint you wouldn’t raise. Surely that stipend wouldn’t be too great after the initial purchases.

Then, what would you spend your money on next? You wouldn’t be some magistrate, rolling in credits, but you knew you would have enough money.

You bit your lip.

Glancing down at your herbal soaps and shampoos that you had had to make yourself, you smiled. You could buy something that was maybe just a touch fancier than these.

Just as you bent to pick them up, the smell of the shower caught in your nose and you realized something: a heady spicy aroma. You glanced over and saw the soaps that Mando must use. Again you bit your lip and looked around suspiciously. He would notice, absolutely. But to know what he smelled like? To be coated in his scent for just a few hours while you slept? Just this once?

You grabbed the rough bar, designed for exfoliating and raised your eyebrow. He was no stranger to taking care of his skin it seemed. You quickly lathered the soap bar up in the hot water and worked it into suds, scrubbing it on your skin, until you were fresh and clean. You felt fresh and soft all over, and best of all, you smelled intoxicating. The air in the bathroom flooded with him. Lolling your head back gently as you reached for his shampoo you ran your fingers through your hair, wondering just what his felt like. Though this did answer your question: he had hair worth washing. You rubbed vigorously at your scalp ‘til it tingled, and you sighed.

At long last you were forced to exit the shower and redress in your clothes.

Smitten as you were, you wished you had something of his to wear. Some excuse that your clothes were wet.

A thin haze of steam followed you out as you stepped out of the room as well as a bit of guilt but for how relaxed and refreshed you felt, you weren’t going to feel that guilty. You felt like a whole new person.

Tossing your things to dry on a random crate, that seemed not in use, you made your way to a lone ladder. You climbed to the top and knocked on the ceiling gently before finishing your ascent.

Mando turned around in the pilot’s seat as you climbed up.

“Hey. Thanks for letting me use the ‘fresher, I finally feel human again. It’s been years on that backwater planet. I don’t remember the last time I’ve felt warm water and had the chance to actually dry off.” Your voice fell to a hush as you saw the kid dozing by the heater.

Mando scooped him up and set him in a floating pram, closing it with a button on his forearm. “It’s soundproofed. And you’re welcome.” The visor stayed fixated on you a moment too long before he turned the pilot’s seat around and once more resumed facing back towards the infinite abyss of space.

You walked over and sank into the copilot’s seat, mouth falling open as you gazed at the myriad of stars. “Wow.”

Mando glanced towards you, but didn’t say anything.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen space.” You whispered breathlessly.

“Well, you’ll be seeing a lot of it.”

You beamed at him. “Where to next, boss?”

#Mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #Din Djarin x reader #Din Djarin #Mando #baby yoda #grogu #fanfiction #reader insert #no y/n

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emachinescat · 3 years

Text

That I Could Fear a Door

A Tales of Arcadia: Trollhunters Fan-Fiction

By @emachinescat

Summary: Jim had thought that going back home, back to the real world, would be an easy and painless process. He thought it would be simple - it should have been simple. It wasn’t. A reimagining of Jim’s return from the Darklands, where he quickly finds that adjusting to real life after so much trauma isn’t as easy as one might think.

Words: 5,639

TW: PTSD, depression, panic attacks

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

Years I had been from home,

And now, before the door

I dared not open, lest a face

I never saw before …

I laughed a wooden laugh

That I could fear a door,

Who danger and the dead had faced,

But never quaked before.

- From "Home" by Emily Dickinson

Jim had thought that going back home, back to the real world, would be an easy and painless process. After all, during his weeks in the Darklands, first alone and searching the endless shadows, then hunted like an animal, then captured and beaten and forced to fight for the sport of others, hadn't he dreamed endlessly of just that? Of seeing the sun again, of seeing his friends, of hugging his mom, of cooking and eating and training and playing video games and slacking off on homework? He thought it would be simple - it should have been simple.

It wasn't.

The first few moments after crashing back into the over world were indeed euphoric. There was the sun, filtering in through the branches of the trees. It took all of his self-control not to stare straight into it. Even in the evening breeze, there was a warmth in the air that he hadn't felt in so long that it seemed more like a memory. He lay there, flat on his back in the grass, wishing he could feel the soft tickle of the blades on his skin, but trapped in his Eclipse armor. Still, he was free.

Much of the next hour was a blur. He later would recall a few hazy moments - hugging his friends, receiving the amulet from Blinky and finally - finally - shedding the stifling second skin of the Eclipse armor, trying to convince Nomura to stick around, Claire semi-joking about how bad he smelled, and the word free chasing itself around in his head like a dog after its own tail. Free, free, free!

He would always remember in perfect clarity the moment he hugged his mother again, but that hadn't come until later the next week. He wanted more than anything to go to her immediately upon his escape, but Toby and Claire convinced him otherwise.

"What's she going to think if you come home looking like … well, looking like… that?" Toby demanded, gesturing unhelpfully to Jim as a whole.

"And the smell…" Claire added, also unhelpfully.

"You have been through a great ordeal, Master Jim," Blinky reminded him gently. "If you go home now, there will be questions you cannot answer and not the rest you need."

And so Jim reluctantly agreed to go home in Toby's stead with Aaarrrgghh while Toby covered for him at home once more.

It was surreal, Jim found himself thinking as he stood in the Domzalski household's upstairs bathroom, shower already running hot behind him and Aaarrrgghh just across the hall, waiting for him in Toby's room. Just this morning, he had woken up in a cage on cold stone, in a state of perpetual, gnawing hunger that had become the norm, hanging on to the tiniest thread of hope that today might be the day he was finally rescued - but knowing deep down that it was much more likely to be the day he finally died. Now, he had a full stomach for the first time in nearly a month. He was with his friends, safe, electric lights warding off the darkness that had been his hell for so long. Hot water waited for him, beckoned for him. He could be warm and clean again. Just a few days ago he had said something about how much he missed soap. He should have been happy, he thought miserably. Maybe happy wasn't the right word. He was very happy to be away from the Darklands, from Gunmar and Dictatious and goblins and monsters. But he wasn't content.

He also couldn't bring himself to undress. He had been standing in front of the mirror for a good five minutes now, as steam billowed out from behind the curtain and fogged the glass, obscuring the face he'd barely recognized anyway. Good riddance, he thought half-madly, for the boy in the mirror was a warped doppelganger, touched by death and despair, with his sunken eyes, wan skin stretched too tight over abnormally prominent cheekbones, dark, puffy bags under his eyes, and a smattering of bruises and cuts pulling the whole package together with a sickly little bow. His hair was a bit longer than he usually kept it, matted and caked with dirt and blood. It felt crusty to the touch, and brittle somehow, as if it would crumble to dust if he tried to brush it.

He looked bad enough as it was from the neck up. He had no desire to see what awaited him beneath his filthy clothes. He wondered blearily how they had gotten so disgusting when they had been underneath his armor the whole time. Sweat and revoked shower privileges would do that to a person, he finally reasoned, and at once he found he couldn't get in the shower quickly enough.

He stripped off the offending garments with an urgency he hadn't felt even at his most desperate moments in the Darklands, nearly tripping over the edge of the tub in his haste to get in. He was relieved that the mirror had fogged, but he still avoided making eye contact with it just in case.

The water burned his skin, but he turned it hotter, attacking his hair first with nearly half a bottle of shampoo, applying and rinsing, applying and rinsing, until he couldn't see from the suds cascading down his face and the murky water ran clear. He conditioned once, something he'd never done before. He didn't know if it did anything, but it made him feel cleaner.

And then he was scrubbing himself all over, the water reddening the skin on his arms (he studiously avoided looking anywhere else), again and again, as if trying to peel his very skin off. Dirt and sweat and blood poured off of his battered body and he watched it meander toward the drain in a detached sort of way before resuming his frantic washing.

It wasn't until his skin was so raw that he felt like he was an onion peeled of its top few layers that he stopped, breathing heavily, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him, nausea roiling as he regretted the deli sandwich he'd scarfed down earlier. Knees weak, he found himself sinking to the floor of the tub, knees drawn up awkwardly to his chest. The water pounded on his head, back, shoulders, and he let it, slipping into a kind of sleep-trance, watching the water swirl around his feet before making its relentless way to the drain. He thought of nothing, felt nothing, and only broke out of the haze when the water grew cold and panic lanced through him at the loss of warmth. He turned off the water, more tired than he could ever remember being in his life, somehow managed to stand up on wobbly legs, wearily slid back the shower curtain - and froze.

Since he'd been in the shower so long that the water had gone cold, the mirror had also de-fogged, and he found himself unwillingly confronted with the specter that he had been hoping to avoid - his reflection.

Before he'd been captured, he'd scavenged for food and found himself eating something mostly every day, so he'd been nourished but always hungry. After he'd been taken, however, any meals - and he used that word lightly - were few and far between. They'd fed him just enough to keep him alive. He could see now from his emaciated frame that they had still essentially starved him. He'd been Gunmar's prisoner for what felt like years, but it had to have been a week at most.

Still, close to a month without a reliable food source had done its work: He'd always been skinny, but now he could see, fully defined, every rib. Any muscle mass, lean though it might have been, that he'd gained during his training was gone, his arms weak and frail looking. His armor had protected him from extensive physical damage all the times that he had been beaten or tossed around like a soccer ball, but his whole torso was mottled with bruises of all colors, shapes, and sizes, all in different stages of healing. A good deal of them were centered over his ribs, and he winced as the pain that had been his constant companion flared up. He wondered vaguely if he needed to see a doctor. He wouldn't be surprised if Gunmar had cracked a few in one of his rages. He cast the thought aside - how would he explain the state he was in? - and turned abruptly from the horrible, somehow shameful image of his battered body and quickly dressed in the pair of pajamas Toby had let him borrow. They would have swallowed him whole on a normal day, but now they made him feel tiny and breakable and pathetic and weak, and he only kept them on because he hated the way he looked underneath even more.

He offered a simple "G'night," to Aaarrgghh before falling into Toby's bed, expecting to fall asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.

To his surprise, and to his irritation, sleep refused to come. He couldn't get comfortable. The bed was too soft, the blankets too warm, and the moonlight making its way in between the cracks in the curtains toyed with him, tickling his eyelids with the suggestion of light and making it impossible to fall asleep. There were none of the noises he'd come to grow accustomed to, either - no faint buzzing of the magically reinforced bars holding him in, no tromping footsteps of the guards, no click-clacking of goblin claws or snorts or whistled operas or snarls or distant, echoing screams…

In the end, Jim tossed and turned, sick with fatigue and enraged at how cruelly sleep evaded him. He finally, mercifully fell into a restless, nightmare-filled slumber around five in the morning, but even the worst of the dreams didn't wake him, exhausted as he was, and he was trapped back in the Darklands, suffering torture after torture at Gunmar's hands, until he woke again eighteen hours later, on a cot in Troll Market.

He had been moved there at dusk the next day when his coma-like slumber pressed on and his friends, who had not realized the extent of his injuries or exhaustion, grew worried. Vendel had examined him while he slept, expertly bound ribs that had indeed been cracked, and performed all the healing rituals and magic he knew to be safe for a human. Even so, he'd warned Jim, who felt numb and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, it would be a week before he could even begin to regain his strength and pass as his old self, and longer for him to truly be back to the same physical shape he had been in before he'd gone to the Darklands.

And so Jim stayed in Troll Market, under Vendel's care, for another eight days, while Toby got to put on a magical mask and pretend to be him and have his life and hug his mom. Jim tried not to be bitter about it, but it was hard. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh spent all their spare time with him, and Claire and Toby came to Troll Market after school every day and kept him company until they were expected home. Jim talked to them, laughed hollowly, took the homework they gave him, and then retreated within himself as soon as they had disappeared out of sight.

It will be better soon, he kept telling himself desperately. I just need to get out of Troll Market, go back home, get back to my normal life. Once I'm feeling better and things are back to the way they were, it will be like I never left.

Once again, he was very wrong.

***

In the weeks that followed his re-emergence into his real life, Jim discovered very quickly that the life he had left was either very different than he had remembered it to be, or that he himself was very different than he had once been. He supposed both might be a little true.

Being in his mother's embrace was the only thing that felt completely safe and normal after his return. He didn't care that she had just grounded him; when he finally saw her again, he hugged harder and longer than he could ever remember doing, and he had felt better, more like himself, until he'd tried to go to sleep that night and the cold returned. The next morning, he had attempted to do his usual routine like nothing had ever happened, but even that familiar motion felt hollow and the smile he flashed his mom before leaving for school barely concealed the emptiness just beneath the surface.

Other than that first hug, everything else around him, including his friends, school, good food, trolls, even his mom - all things he had coveted during his time in the Darklands - were strange and foreign to him.

Claire and Toby, though they did their best to be understanding and supportive, were obviously thrown off by his sudden mood swings and sullen attitude. They seemed distant and somehow unfamiliar, and Jim found himself feeling awkward around them, unable to figure out what to talk about or why he should laugh at the joke Toby had just made. Didn't they understand that none of this really mattered? There was so much darkness and pain and fear just beneath the skin of this world, and if they scratched the surface just a little too deeply, it could break loose and destroy them all. So he did what he could to avoid these awkward moments all together, and barely noticed the hurt and disappointment blooming in their eyes as he shut them out and walked away.

He'd thought school would be a great return to normalcy, but everything about it grated on his nerves. Even the cheers as he returned to campus - Congrats on beating Jim Lake Disease! - made him feel claustrophobic. He barely held it together anytime Steve cornered him, his heart racing madly in his chest like it wanted to escape, with or without him. The teachers were demanding, the sound of the lockers made his head ache and reminded him too much of the sound of a cage door slamming shut, and once, when Coach had grabbed his arm to show the class proper movement for a volleyball serve, raw, animal fear had overtaken him, and he'd flipped the teacher onto his back and scurried, terrified, under the bleachers. He barely remembered it, except for the pain in his chest, the short, insufficient puffs of breath, and Claire finally coaxing him out after class dismissed and herding him to the nurse. It was a panic attack, she'd said, eyeing him with concern, and had he had any drastic life changes, any unusual stressors? He lied, because he couldn't do anything else, and she told him to consider seeing a counselor anyway.

"Maybe the nurse is right," Claire said on their way to Troll Market that evening. "You're obviously struggling with this. Maybe you should go to counseling, or something." Her voice was soft and soothing, like she was talking to a wounded beast. Perhaps she was.

Jim laughed, a harsh, cold sound that stopped his best friends in their tracks. "Oh, sure, I'll just do that," he said sarcastically, hating himself as the bitterness dripped from his lips like an overflowing witch's brew but unable to stop the words or the emotions that spawned them. "I'm sure there's plenty of shrinks out there that can help me with my troll-induced trauma."

One of the things he'd missed the most was food - good food, not soupy nightmare-creature eggs or slimy soup made from monster meat that was probably not good for humans but that he had scarfed down on the rare occasion that Gunmar had deigned to feed him. Now, he ate because it was expected of him, but he barely tasted the food. Even his favorite recipes were like ash in his mouth, and cooking didn't bring him the pleasure it once had.

If Claire and Toby were baffled by his behavior, their confusion was nothing compared to that of Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, his two closest friends and trainers in Troll Market. Blinky had fretted on more than one occasion that perhaps they had brought home a changeling Jim somehow, not the real one. After all, Jim Lake, Jr. was kind and funny and fun to be around, and this new Jim was brooding and dull and never truly present. Jim saw the worry in Blinky's six eyes and in the anxious set of Aaarrrgghh's jaw, and it saddened him - just not enough to shake him from the waking hell his life had become. Training was a monotonous routine as he gradually built his strength back up, and even Draal, perhaps the least emotionally-inclined of the trolls save for Vendel, found himself hesitantly asking the young Trollhunter if he was okay, if there was anything he needed that might help him feel better. Jim gave him a half-hearted smile, truly touched, but said no. He wasn't sure anything could fix this hole that had been drilled inside of him. It was too dark, too empty, and it hurt too damn much.

His mom had noticed a difference in him too, but she was at a complete loss. Jim tried his hardest to be his old self when he was with her, and being in her company did bring back a spark of his personality, but even so, he saw the concern in her bright blue eyes whenever she looked at him, and he'd seen her at school in conference with Seňor Uhl, and knew that she was trying to get any inkling of what was eating away at her son. Claire and Toby were no help to her, either, for after she had cornered them after school one day, demanding to know what had happened and why Jim was behaving so uncharacteristically, they had taken extra care to avoid her, unable to say or do anything to ease her worry.

***

And so this went on for nearly two weeks before Toby, Claire, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, and Draal met up with the sole intention of finding a way to bring their friend back. He was suffering so much, and no one could truly understand what he had gone through.

"He clearly has signs of PTSD," Claire said heavily, clarifying for a befuddled Aaarrrgghh: "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"This… order?" Aaarrrgghh drawled, eyes wide in concern.

"Disorder, big guy," Toby corrected, heaving a weary sigh. "It means he's been through something traumatic, and he can't deal with it."

"Well, how do humans usually deal with their trauma and stress?" Blinky asked, always straight to business.

Claire and Toby exchanged knowing glances. "Most of the time, we don't. We just avoid it all together," Claire admitted. "But when someone has been through something like Jim has - extended periods of isolation, being a prisoner, abuse - it's not enough to pretend it doesn't exist." A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away with the heel of her hand angrily. "I knew he'd be in bad shape when he came back," she admitted. "But he was so happy to see us when we rescued him that I thought that maybe he would be okay."

"What do humans do if they cannot ignore this trah-mah?" Draal enunciated the unfamiliar word. It was quite endearing to see such a hulk of a beast with so much concern in his dark eyes.

"Usually, they see a therapist," Toby supplied.

Aaarrrgghh frowned. "There - I - pissed?"

Toby snorted in almost manic laughter. "Therapist," he repeated, still chuckling. "A person who goes to school to know how to help people with their problems and stuff."

"Well," Blinky said, a new light in his eyes, "we shall venture forth and find Master Jim one of these therapists! Then he'll be back to his old self in no time!" He noticed the dubious expressions on the humans' faces. "What? Are the therapists extinct?"

"No," Claire replied. "But Jim was right - he can't talk to anyone but us about what has happened, and he obviously has no interest in talking to us!"

"Yeah," Toby chimed in, "if he went up to a shrink and told them that he had been stranded in a dark, forbidden hellscape searching for a lost child and then was the prisoner of a crazy troll that wants to escape his eternal prison and conquer the overworld… he'd be thrown in the loony bin for sure."

"So it's hopeless." Blinky's arms fell limp at his sides. "We can do nothing to help Master Jim escape the clutches of PDSC." Neither Toby nor Claire bothered to correct him. Blinky continued, "Is there anything else that might help Master Jim? Anyone else that he might talk to that would not throw him in this 'loony bin'?"

Claire opened her mouth to say no, but shut it abruptly, the light of an idea sparking in her eyes. "Actually," she said, the hint of a real smile making an appearance for the first time in a very long time, "I think I have an idea." When six pairs of eyes locked onto her hopefully, she added, "And it might even be a good one!"

***

When Jim got home from school two days after the secret meeting between his friends he was surprised to hear someone bustling about in the kitchen when he opened the front door. His mom worked late on Tuesdays, and anyway, her car wasn't in the drive. He reached his hand into his bag, paranoia growing, and his fingertips had just brushed the curve of his amulet when a tall Asian woman wearing a smart pantsuit limped into sight. His bag fell to the floor.

"Nomura?"

It was odd seeing her in her human form; after spending so much time around her changeling form in the Darklands, he had forgotten that she was quite pretty as a human. "Hello, Little Gynt." Her voice was also much less grating in this shape, but he found he didn't like the softer tones as much anymore.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, picking his bag up and hanging it on the stair rail, though he closed his hand around the amulet first, clutching it tightly in one fist. It wasn't that he didn't trust Nomura - she had proven herself to be a loyal, if reluctant friend - but because he had come to associate her presence in general with danger. If she noticed his cautionary measure, she didn't mention it. "I thought you left," he added as an afterthought.

"I did, but I came back," she replied vaguely. A stab of annoyance shot through Jim, and even the negative emotion came as a relief - he had felt nothing but fear and numbness since returning home. The change was nice, even if it was fleeting.

"Why?" His eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you were worried about me?"

She studied him with dark, serious eyes for a long moment. "I don't worry about anyone," she finally responded.

Jim felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. She said this, but he could see beneath the surface now. Their time as prisoners of Gunmar had shown him that there was much more to the changeling than met the eye. He waited for the consuming awkwardness that always set in when he was around his friends to descend, but to his surprise, he continued to feel relatively comfortable around Nomura, more at home than he had in a long while.

"Shouldn't you be in a wheelchair or on crutches or something?" he asked, gesturing to her legs. Normally she wore dresses, so he could only assume that the legs of the pantsuit hid some spectacular bruises. "I thought your legs were really hurt."

"They were broken," she agreed. "But my kind heals quickly." She moved forward slowly, then sat on the couch. "They still need a bit of rest to recover fully, though."

Jim sat down across from her in an armchair. "I can't remember if I ever said - thank you, for believing me, for helping me escape." He paused, eyes on his fidgeting hands in his lap. "For being kind."

"Well, I'm more than just a pretty face," Nomura said, and it was impossible to tell if she were joking or not. After a companionable silence, she asked, "So how have you been holding up, Little Gynt?"

Jim didn't know what it was about her, but something made him want to tell Nomura about sleepless night after sleepless night, about the nightmares that plagued him whenever he finally collapsed from exhaustion, about the cavern that had been dug seemingly overnight between himself and his friends, about how he either felt nothing or everything at every moment, about how loud footsteps made him anxious and how physical touch - except hugs from his mom - made him want to wither into himself or run away screaming, about how he had had all these expectations about what life would be like on the other side of Killahead Bridge, and how none of them had come through. He gave her a weak smile, and said, "I'm fine."

An undefinable expression flitted across the changeling's features. "Yeah, kid," she said finally. "I'm fine, too."

***

After that, Jim came home on Tuesdays and Thursdays, his mom's late days, expecting Nomura to be there, because she always was. Sometimes they'd have a cup of tea and sit in silence. Often they'd talk about mundane things - Jim would talk to her about school and his mom, and Nomura would talk about anything from opera to history to art to the strange old man who had flirted with her at the laundry mat Sunday night.

These visits, as ordinary as they were considering she was a changeling and he the Trollhunter, slowly seemed to draw more of the old Jim back out into the light. Talking to Nomura was different than talking with his friends; perhaps it was because she had been there with him in the Darklands, had suffered alongside him at the hand of Gunmar. And the more he talked to Nomura, the easier it was to talk to his friends, too. Slowly, the cavern that had been dug between him and his friends, troll and human alike, began to shrink, and he laughed aloud at a stupid pun Toby made at lunch, and he didn't retreat into himself every time a locker slammed. Still, there was a barrier between himself and his real life, the one he wanted back more than he could express but that was always just out of reach.

He found himself actually complaining to Nomura about this three Tuesdays after he had first found her waiting for him in his home. "Toby spent weeks wearing a magical mask and pretending to be me and to have my life," he said. "Sometimes I just wish that I could put that mask on and be me again too."

Nomura was quiet for several seconds, and then she told a story that seemed to be very much off topic: "When I was a child, I was told stories of the human world. It was a wonderful place, full of light and life and the sun…"

"What does this have to do with-?"

"Shut up and let me talk." When Nomura told you to do something, you did it or risked life and limb. So Jim wisely shut up and let her continue. "I grew up longing to go to that world, to see the sun and to feel the warmth and the light. The surface world was a fairy tale, and I was a little girl who grew up in the dark. Nothing else could have spoken to me more.

"But when I was finally given my chance to come into the world, to take the place of a little Asian-American girl named Zelda Namura, I was separated from my parents and my home, all alone in a world I did not understand, and it didn't matter how much I had dreamed of the sun, it wasn't what I had expected at all.

"Adjusting was… difficult. It was not until the human body I had replaced had grown older and was taken by her family to the opera that I found something that connected me to this world, something to enjoy, something of beauty. But it wasn't until I met another one like me, here in Arcadia, while under the employ of Bular, that I truly felt at home."

"Mr. Strickler," Jim realized.

"Yes. There's something very special about talking with someone - even if it's someone you're not crazy about - that understands you, where you've come from, and what you've been through."

"Is that the moral of this story?" Jim asked, partially touched, partially exasperated. "Are you trying to tell me that talking to you is going to make all of this go away because we've been through the same thing?"

Nomura shrugged. "Who knows? I just think it's a good story. You can take what you want from it."

Jim smiled.

And then everything, like water pushing relentlessly at a weakening dam, broke.

***

Jim could never remember crying the way that he did that evening. He didn't think he was sad, exactly, or hurt, or even angry anymore - he was just exhausted and overwhelmed with everything that he had gone through but kept to himself. The fear and humiliation of his capture, the paranoia that his friends were never going to trust him after he betrayed their them and went to look for Enrique without them, anxiety about Gunmar and the paralyzing horror every time he wondered if there was any way he could have followed them out of the Darklands, how he was having trouble connecting with the world he'd always known, the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the numbness and terror that followed him interchangeably, the way that every touch to his arms sent him back to his prison, being dragged painfully between two trolls strong enough to rip him in half with one swift yank…

He talked and cried and had no fewer than two panic attacks, and Nomura just sat there quietly all the while, watching with an unreadable cocktail of emotions in her eyes. When he had finally quieted, his heart feeling both emptier and lighter than it had since before he had made his journey to the Darklands, she simply handed him a packet of tissues she had packed in her purse and asked, "Better?"

He offered her a sniffle and a watery smile, unable to speak anymore, too stunned to fully process what had just happened. She stayed by his side, just being there, until his mom's headlights shone through the blinds. She would climb out the bathroom window and into the night.

Jim slept peacefully that night. If he had bad dreams, he didn't remember them.

***

It was a slow process, even after the cathartic conversation with Nomura. Jim slowly found himself acclimating more and more to his old life, with friends, school, home life, and even troll hunting becoming things to look forward to rather than dread. Loud noises and unexpected touch still startled him, but he was able to ground himself more easily now. He fell into a routine very similar to the one he'd had before, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Cracked ribs, bruises, and cuts healed much faster than emotional scars, but at least he knew, in time, he would be okay. He was acutely aware that nothing would ever be exactly the same as it had always been, though. What he had gone through was something no person, no teenager especially, should have to experience. And while he had entered the Darklands of his own volition, none of what had happened to him there was his fault (at least that's what they told him; it would take a long while to truly believe that himself, but that knowledge, like everything else, would come in time). He had been isolated in the dark, on the run, hunted, captured and held in deplorable conditions, starved and beaten, forced to fight for his life, and nearly broken beyond repair, but he had made it this far.

Things might never be as they were, but he could forge a new path from here. He could grow stronger, adapt, overcome, and prove to Gumnar, to his friends, to troll kind, and to himself that he was more than what had been done to him. He was more than pain and trauma and helplessness and fear and rage.

He was James Lake, Jr., Jim to his friends, the first ever human Trollhunter, the son of Barbara and student of Blinky, Little Gynt, and even, he supposed, Buttsnack. Some days he would only feel like some of these things. On bad days, he wouldn't feel like any of them.

But he wouldn't forget the truth. He wouldn't lose sight of who he was so completely, not again. And, if by some horrible twist of fate he did, he knew now that he had an odd but utterly complete assortment of friends - humans, trolls, and even a couple of changelings - who would help him fight his way out. Out of the Darklands. Out of the past and pain and dark recesses of his own mind.

And into, as cliche as he knew it was, the light.

#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #jim lake jr #fanfic #angst #whump fic #emotional whump #ptsd tw #depression tw #panic attacks tw #nomura #seriously there's no way this kid escaped the darklands without being traumatized af #so i fixed it #here's my take on how it could have gone down realistically #poor jim #jim whump #emcatwrites

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sleep-is-for-the-sane · 4 years

Text

Here

Hey guys, so I am really sorry for the sad stories so far but Coronacation is doing a toll on my mental health so… If ya want something different, request it!

Warning: SELF HARM

Word count: 2480 words (The longest thing i’ve ever fricken written in my life!)

You looked down at your hand, seeing it covered in red. So were your forearms, shoulders, collarbone, and thighs. You placed the blood tinted blade down on your bathroom counter and turned your attention to your mirror. Your hair was matted and greasy, your eyes were a dull shade of (eye color), your smile that was always hiding your feelings gone. You had reduced yourself to who you truly were. A person who had no healthy way of coping with the anxiety and depression they had. You continued to stare at your reflection for a few more minutes until you heard your phone ring. It was the BAU alerting you that you had a new case.

You sighed and jumped into the shower for the first time in a week and washed clean of dried blood. You wore a pair of black jeans, a tank top, a big hoodie, and a pair of converse. You threw your hair up into a messy bun, grabbed your go-bag, and went on your way to meet the rest of the team.

You got into the elevator from the parking garage at the same time as Hotch, your boss and best friend, which was the last thing you wanted right now. “I thought you were sick. Are you feeling better?” He asked

“Oh, yeah. I feel fine now, thanks for asking.” You laughed as you messed with the hood of your hoodie, making sure that your cuts were covered.

Hotch noticed your odd behavior but made no comment on it. You rushed out of the elevator and directly to the conference room in an attempt to stay out of view as long as possible. Everyone gathered in the room and the meeting started. You didn’t pay attention, you could barely look at your team without wanting to run out of the room and back to your prison of comfort. You felt so inferior to your team. They were all so professional and quick on their feet. They were all so confident and you saw yourself as the opposite. You saw yourself as a burden to the team, that they’d be better off without you.

“Hey Y/N, let’s go. Hotch said Wheels up in 20, Babygirl.” Morgan mumbled as you felt him rub your shoulder. You winced and pulled away from his touch. You knew that had definitely confused him since you normally returned his physical affections with some of your own. You both walked out of the room to get ready for the trip out to Jacksonville, Florida.

~Time Skippies~

You had finally caught the Unsub. Although it was surprisingly early in the morning when you did so you had the rest of the day in Florida, in summer, to hang out. And of course, JJ, Prentiss, and Morgan got everyone to decide on going to the beach. You knew that you were screwed whether you went to the beach or stayed at the hotel.

(You chose to go to the beach)

You sighed as you pulled on your swimsuit and thought of ways that you could hide the cuts on your shoulders and thighs but to no avail. You looked through our go bag one more time and decided to pull on a pair of shorts that were barely long enough to cover your cuts and scars and pulled a lightweight hoodie over your torso. “Come on, Y/N! Let’s go!” Yelled an excited Garcia as the bathroom door was pushed open.

You smiled, grabbed your (bag of choice), and headed out with the ret of the team to the beach. When you finally found a spot to set up everyone laid their towels down and split up to do their own things. You decided to stay near everyone’s things and watch the ocean. After a few minutes you started looking through your bag for your phone and earbuds so you could listen to music but to no avail. You don’t know why exactly but this small little inconvenience set you off.

You started hyperventilating and you felt tears sting your eyes. On top of that you were growing increasingly hot by the minute. “Miss, are you okay?” Asked a small voice. You looked up to see a little girl staring at you. You let out a breathy laugh and smiled.

“Oh, I’m just a little sad. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Well i know that going in the water makes me happy. Maybe it will make you happy too!” She bounced excitedly when you agreed to go into the water and play with her. But you failed to see Hotch coming back to your area with food in hand before taking off the hoodie and shorts you were using as a cover up.

You had barely gotten into the cool water and the little girl was already splashing you with water. You continued your water fight for about 15 minutes before her parents called her out of the water. You turned around to head back to your things but noticed that your boss was sitting on his towel next to yours waiting for you. Your anxiety came back and told you to turn around and stay in the water but you had already made eye contact with Hotch who was motioning for you to come back to the team’s spot.

You tried your best to get your shorts and hoodie on without Hotch seeing your cuts and scars and you thought it worked but you realized you were sorely mistaken when you sat down. “Take your hoodie off. You can’t hide them forever, Y/N” Hotch sighed. You looked to him with wide eyes.

“Hotch, I-I don’t know what you mean?”

“You don’t have to be afraid alright? Just let me see, please.”

Your eyes watered as you weakly pulled the hoodie over your head and off of your arms.Hotch looked at your defeated form as you slumped down and turned away from his gaze. You sat in tears and he just stared at you. No words spoken, no way of knowing what he was thinking. It was terrifying and you just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep for a few weeks or for as long as it takes to get rid of the ever present tiredness you’ve felt for so long. “Hey, look at me. I’m not mad or disappointed. I just wanna help you.” Hotch soothed as he gently rubbed up and down your arm. You anxiously met his gaze with your own to find the most caring eyes that you have seen in months. He opened his arms wide and you gladly accepted his embrace.

You felt safe in his arms but you had never told him that. You didn’t want to mess up the relationship that the both of you had already. So you enjoyed the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you for as long as you could.

Sadly that came to an end when the team came back without warning. You were mortified to say the least, having your scars on display for your misfit family’s viewing pleasure. Penelope was the first to say something. “Oh, Sugar! Those look so painful. Let me help you.” She gasped as she entered Mom mode. She grabbed a bottle of lotion from her bag and started applying it to your cuts. Spencer and JJ started asking if you were seeing a therapist or if there was any way that they could help you, which you brushed away with an “I’m fine” Even though you know that excuse wouldn’t work anymore. Morgan looked at you with sad eyes but said nothing and Prentiss was hugging your side. Hotch was on your other side, just holding your hand.

On the jet, everyone fell asleep except for you. You felt so guilty for worrying the team that you were trying to hide in your hoodie and just calm yourself from today’s events. Hotch walked into the cabin and slid into the booth beside you. “Hey, come here. Let me hug you.” He mumbled as he pulled your body into his side. You ended up with Hotch sitting in the window seat and you on his lap, legs extended to the neighboring seat. “You know I love you, right? You can always come to me. I wish you felt safe confiding in me. I wish I could cuddle all the bad thoughts out of you but I can’t. At least not yet. What I’m meaning to say is that I have feelings for you.”

You moved your head to look at his face. You smiled and nuzzled your face back into the crook of his neck. “I have feelings for you too, Aaron.” You fell asleep as he kissed the top of your head, safe in his arms.

(You stayed at the Hotel)

“Please come with us?” Whined Garcia as she sat at the foot of your hotel bed. You giggled and set your book down.

“Sorry Technology Goddess, but I would rather stay in an air conditioned room with a good book than get a sunburn and be sweaty on the jet home. Thanks for the offer though.” The group of girls sighed but honored your wish and went to the beach without you. After a few chapters of reading even the air cooler was struggling to keep you cool so you decided to switch into a loose tank top and a pair of shorts.

You eventually got bored of reading so you put your headphones in and listened to (Podcast/Music/other media) with your eyes closed. Unfortunately you thought that everyone left the hotel with the girls but in reality Hotch stayed back at the hotel as well. Therefore you left yourself unguarded from unwanted eyes. You jumped when you heard the door open.

“Hey, Y/N. I was wondering if you wanted to go get something to eat with the team?” Hotch said as he turned around to close the door. You quickly hid yourself with the bed comforter and tried to calm your heart beat. Hotch looked a little confused but walked over to you. “I know you’re awake, come on. Don’t make me drag you off the bed.” He laughed as you pulled the comforter tighter around yourself.

“Go away Hotch, I’m not hungry.”

In one sharp tug, you felt the cold air hit your skin as Hotch stood with your makeshift shield in hand. You felt the burn of his gaze on your body as you tugged at your clothes, trying to cover your cuts and scars as much as possible. You didn’t even realize the bed dip next to you until you felt Hotch’s arm wrap around you. You desperately pulled at your clothes as Hotch pulled you back to lean against him. He himself had propped himself up on the pillows and headboard. “Hey, hey, stop. It’s alright. You're with me. You’re safe.” Hotch soothed as you curled into his side.

You pushed away from him but he held you tighter. You fought for a few minutes but eventually gave up. You looked down in a last ditch effort to not talk about the elephant in the room. You felt tears run down your face as hotch pulled you closer to him, doing his best to comfort you. It felt nice to just sit with him and cuddle in silence. But the silence came to an end when hotch shifted in his position. He moved you in between his legs with your back resting on his chest. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell me? We could have helped you.” Hotch asked, voice wavering.

You felt a tear drop on your shoulder as he pulled the blanket back around the both of you. “I was ashamed, Hotch. I’m responsible for so many lives but I can’t seem to get mine under control. I feel like everything is more than I can handle. That’s why I've been gone for a week. I was sitting alone in my apartment just feeling sorry for myself. Everyone on this team is amazing and has a role to play in our family of misfits but I don’t know where I fit, Hotch.” Your walls began to crack and cave under your boss’s gaze. Hotch’s arms grew tighter around you and you turned so you were hugging him.

He kissed the top of your head. “You are the member who keeps this family going when there are no strands of hope to grasp. You become a mother when you need to, a best friend, a shoulder to cry on, someone to call at 3 AM when the job gets too much. Y/N, You are the heart of this team when we want to stop beating.” Hotch murmurs into your hair. Eventually you both end up cuddling in the blanket cocoon that you made.

About a half hour later, both of you were sleeping peacefully but a sharp knock on the door broke you out of your trance. You whined and pushed yourself into Hotch. The door opened to reveal the whole team with take-out bags filled with food. “So that’s why you didn’t answer your phones.” Rossi stated as everyone else filed into the room. Hotch sat up and looked at you.

“Do you want me to grab your hoodie?” He whispered. You turned to face the group nodding your head. But before you could get your hoodie on Garcia saw a few scars and cuts from an uncovered shoulder.

She gasped and walked over to you. “Come here, Gorgeous.” You went to protest but that was cut short when you were yanked off of the bed to reveal the rest of your cuts. The team looked over your shaking form with concerned eyes. Garcia sat you on the desk chair in the room and started rubbing lotion on your cuts, making them feel better instantly. Spencer started asking you if you were seeking help and if you needed help finding a professional. JJ and Emily went through your bag grabbing you a new hoodie and not so secretly confiscating anything that could be used as a self-harm tool. Derek was knelt in front of you, wrapping your cuts with bandages and muttering about how they should have noticed. Rossi was sorting out food and pouring people drinks so that you weren’t overcrowded.

Once everything calmed down, everyone was hanging out in your hotel room watching daytime television shows and eating. You were in between Hotch and Derek on one of the beds. “Hey, babygirl. You know you can talk to us right? We are your family.” Derek commented as he kissed the side of your head. Hotch quickly wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his side out of jealousy. You smiled to yourself. “I do now.”

#hotch #ssa hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #Criminal Minds #self harm

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

In A Storm

Bree gets stranded in a storm and just needs to find someone to give her a helping hand.

Calum x Black!OC, Bree. Idk what happened. This post doesn’t actually exist.

CW: 18+ Content (Briefest mentions of sex. It��s an almost fade to black moment, but there’s a tiny teeny amount of details.)

Enjoy my masterlist

You can support me on kofi.

________________________________________

Bree wants to laugh. The light on her car came on twenty minutes ago. She thought then, maybe she should pull over, call her dad and see what she should do. She was so close to her friend, Drew’s house. And maybe it was stupid to negioate with herself that if it went out in another ten minutes she’d continue on and worry about it in the morning. Her lower back and ass was starting to hurt from the long drive though and if Bree was to stop she only wanted it to be at her final destination so she could stretch out and sleep.

Though in Bree’s defense, the light shouldn’t have gone out. If something was really wrong, then it would’ve stayed on. But it went out after a couple minutes. She was nearing her exit when it came back on. It was only another ten minutes according to the GPS. Just another ten minutes and then in the morning, she could get someone to look at the car. Now, not even two minutes from the new house, a whopping three blocks away, her car was slowly puttering to its end.

And breaking down two minutes from her new place wouldn’t be that bad. Things happened. But it was of course during her big move from her parents' place and in with Drew up in the Hills. This move is only temporary. She had a job starting in a week and after stacking up a few checks, Bree was going to put in an application to an apartment complex not too far from her job. But, of course, her car would break down in the middle of a downpour.

The rain was nice at first. Made her feel like she was in her own bubble down the winding roads of the highway. Though she was getting into heavier traffic closer to the city and folks were becoming a bit more impatient in their driving, the rain provided her a little bit of solace. It felt a renewal. Bree was flying the coupe and it felt right that even though it was exciting it was also a little sad. It felt right to have the rain hitting the roof of her car. It made her feel like she was shedding something--though she wasn’t sure what it was just yet.

But she did not need the rain and her car breaking down. Bree flicks on her emergency lights. Fat would have this for her. Fate would have this stored away just for her, at just the most inopportune time. Pulling the car off to the side of the road, Bree listens to the rain falling around her. She exhales, thinking what her next step should be. She’d have to call for a tow. And she’d have to let Drew know that she’d be delayed getting in and she should probably call her dad just to make sure she was handling the situation right.

Reaching for her phone, she taps to end the GPS’s route. She wouldn’t be needing that for a while. Her nails click over the glass screen and just as her fingers hover over her dad’s contact the screen goes back. Her phone started dying just as she got into the neighborhood and now without the car battery on, she was left with no charge. “Let this be a fucking lesson to charge your phone the night before your drive,” Bree tells herself.

Her portable charger box was somewhere in the mass of bags and boxes in her car. She told herself she’d put in her purse before leaving but due to late night last minute packing, Bree’s sure she dumped it somewhere into the depths of those boxes and there was no way she’d be able to unearth it now.

“At least you’re in a neighborhood,” she tells herself, looking for any signs of life behind curtains. “A light, a child, something,” she mutters, looking through the sheets of rain.

And right at the end of the block, a house down from where her car gave up the ghost, Bree spots two dogs in the windows. One fluffy and the other one with a pretty white coat. Normally, Bree wouldn’t be so inclined to just walk up to any old house. But a house with two dogs made her feel better. It felt like a sign. Throwing her phone into her purse, she took a deep breath.

She had just pressed her hair. And sure really it was not anything more than a blow out and a quick rod set, but still it meant that the second the rain touched her scalp her roots would revert, the curls would take back their natural form. Though, that would just have to be a fight for tomorrow. Right now she can’t be sitting in her broke down car with no phone or way to contact anymore.

“Do or die,” she sighs. Sliding the keys from the ignition, Bree leans into the door. “I just did my hair though. God,” she huffs, opening her door. The rain is cool. It’s almost a relief. The door is wet within seconds. Her jeans are no longer the light faded wash but dark denim blue.

It’s another moment before she fully pushes herself out of the car, locks it and then runs up the driveway, purse clutched tight to her side. The rain’s not a chill to her bones. But it’s like a refreshing sip of water. The jog’s stretched out her lower back a little. Under the refugee of this strangers porch, she shakes a little bit of the water from her hair and raps at the door. “Please don’t be a creep,” Bree whispers, biting the corner of her lip. “Also, not an axe murder. Would not be cool.”

______________________________________

Calum walks past the two dogs perched on his couch to the front door. Calum agreed to dog sit Moose for the day while Michael took South to the vet. The poor guy hadn’t quite been eating like before and Michael, the worrier that he is, decided not to wait to check him out. Crystal had gone out of town and rather than letting Michael have to fret over South and Moose, Calum happily offered to watch Moose while Michael took care of what he needed.

Calum’s not really sure what he expected to find on the other side of the door. It could’ve been anyone really--Michael, a mailperson, possibly a random kid asking if they could get access to his backyard to retrieve a rogue ball. But not someone, completely drenched, nervously running her teeth over her bottom lip. “Sorry to bother you. I just need to use your phone. My car broke down. I’m a genius who doesn’t charge her phone before driving 5 hours across the state.”

Calum looks past her, over her shoulder to see a car--he assumes it’s her--pulled over to the side of the road. He looks back to her. The college sweatshirt hanging heavily from her frame thanks to the pouring rain. Her hair sticks to her face a little. Whatever eye makeup she was wearing has started to run down her cheeks. “C’mon in,” he waves hurriedly for her to enter.

“Thanks,” she smiles, stepping inside but not going past the indoor welcome mat. Her shoes squish as she walks onto the hardwood floor.

“Is your car far?”

“Nah, just like a house down. I saw the dogs in the windows. Seemed like a safe bet.” She holds out a hand to the dog intrigued by her. The pure white pup happily sniffs away at her hand while the smaller husky colored dog watches from afar.

Calum turns any shoes suitable to go out into the rain. “I can help you push it closer to my house, that way none of my neighbors get pissy. That’s if you’re okay with getting wet again?”

The woman laughs. “I think I’m passed getting worried about wet. You’re the one that’s bone dry.”

“Not worried about it really. I’m just sick of my neighbors, at this point.”

“Don’t want the HOA on your ass?” she teases.

“God, not again.” Into some old tattered boots, Calum faces her. “I’m Calum by the way.”

“Bree,” she turns, slipping her purse over her head. “Is it okay if I set this inside? The phone’s dead but I don’t want it getting wet or anything.”

“Yeah sure,” he waves to the coffee table.

Both of them pause on the front porch. Bree’s already wet like she said, but now her hair’s truly fucked. There’s no denying that. “Really, I could foot the heat of your neighbors,” Bree offers, not really wanting to go back into the rain.

Calum chuckles beside her. “Let’s say me and the HOA are on thinner ice than before.”

“Thanks. Even though I’m getting you wet. Just want to say that now before we’re both drowning in this downpour.”

“No problem.”

The second her sopping wet shoes hit the first stair, Bree definitely notes the air is cooler now. And it could be because she was already wet once before. And somehow had managed to adapt in the two minutes she was inside Calum’s place to the warmth. Now in the rain again, the chill is definitely hitting her bones. She runs again to her car. Her keys are clicking between her fingers.

Her grip slips around her keyes and she curses before picking them up. Calum’s already positioned at the trunk, waiting on her. It’s a bit of embarrassment that heats her cheeks, sitting inside her car. She hadn’t meant to make anyone else do so much extra work or have anyone else subject themselves to the rain. With fingers gripping tight to the steering wheel, she leans out of the window just a little to let Calum know she’s ready.

Thankfully, she hadn’t coasted super far out from Calum’s driveway. Bree keeps an eye on the nose of her car. It’s slow of course with only one person behind to push. When they get just pass the mailbox, Bree gives a shout and puts the car into park. She throws her head into the steering wheel, exhaling.

Behind her closed lids, all she seems to see is the cut of Calum’s jaw. Why did he have to be hot? Why wouldn’t he have been just some decent guy with two dogs? But he had to be hot and willingly to subject himself to the rain for her. She still has to call a tow truck and Drew, and her dad. There’s not much time for wallowing in the misery life liked to hand her.

Throwing up her door, she finds Calum right at the driver side passenger door. “I can throw your clothes into the wash while you use my phone. Sound okay?”

The rain is clinging to the lines of his face, washing down his cheek and riding the line of his jaw. Bree tries to focus instead of his eyes. But even the rain there, on his lashes, is so goddamn beautiful. “Thanks again, Calum.”

“Don’t worry.” They walk back up his driveway. Calum lets her go ahead of him to get inside. But he leads her down to the bathroom, where Bree stands, still dripping water onto his floor.

The press that she worked so hard is gone. The roots have coiled around each other. The ends are curling and she knows soon, they’ll follow suit. It’s in the mirror that she sees the mascara’s run down her face. She can’t believe she has to look like this, showing up at a strangers door and that stranger being so attractive too.

“I’m literally a drowned rat,” Bree exhales.

“But a cute drowned rat,” Calum returns. In his hands, he holds a towel, washcloth, and a stack of dry clothes out to her. “Pardon that I lack any kind of underwear other than boxers, but I hope they suffice until your clothes are dry.”

Bree nods, heart thundering in her chest. Did he just call her cute? There’s no way her ears heard that. “Thanks. You’re like totally saving my ass right now. But also, like, I do have some clothes in my car. Just means going back outside.”

“Neither one of us is facing that hell storm again. You’ve braved it twice, Bree. By the way, the hot water’s a little fussy. I got it fixed recently but you still gotta talk sweet to it.”

“Noted, charm the hot water.”

Calum points out where to find other essentials in the bathroom and then backs out of the room with a tiny wave, lips lifting into a tiny smile. It feels nice under the warm run of the shower head. Bree definitely needed a little bit of patience with the hot water but once the temperature evened out it became well worth it. Just her luck to work out like this. But she’s immensely grateful Calum’s so understanding. If not, she’d most likely wind up stranded, or she’d be tied up in someone’s basement.

It’s not a thought Bree likes lingering on. But it’s just a reality for her. She hadn’t necessarily helped herself. When the light first came on, she could’ve found a car shop nearby. She could’ve waited there for a few hours, got it fixed and saved herself this trouble. Bree won’t be making anymore negotiations when it comes to her car anymore. That’s a lesson that really only needs to be learned once and she’s received the message loud and clear.

Outside the shower, she takes in the gray t-shirt with splotches of white on the lower torso and sweatpants offered up to her. It feels all too intimate, to be wearing someone else’s clothes. Bree doesn’t know anything besides his name. And well, he has dogs. And he’s cute. And he has a fucking nice house. Though she hasn’t seen a lot of it, Bree already feels how cozy it is. It’s lived in, with decent space. It’s full. Calum’s house feels full even if it’s just him in the house with two dogs.

Bree likes that feeling, walking into a house and feeling how bright and warm it is. It told her more about Calum, that he had this very embracing and calm energy about it. But that didn’t fully negate the fact that he was a stranger. And she was a stranger to him and she was still standing in a towel. Slipping into the clothes presented, she gathers her clothes into the towel, hopefully to keep from making an even bigger mess of her evening.

Outside the door of the bathroom, Bree’s immediately greeted by one of the dogs. She’d guess they’re a toy poodle, but she can’t tell for certain. “Hi,” Bree coos, bending down to scratch behind one of their ears. “What’s your name?” The pink collar and tag tap just a little in the excited pants. “Oh, you look ear scratches huh, girl?”

“That’s Moose. Old man’s Duke. He’s not a big of people. So I apologize in advance.” Calum’s comes from further in the house. His t-shirt and shorts now changed into sweatpants and a ribbed tank.

“So Moose and Duke, your partners in crimes?”

“Moose isn’t mine, as sad as I am to admit it. She’s a friend and I’m just dog sitting for a little bit. Duke’s my precious old man.”

Bree’s heart shouldn’t clench like it does. Precious old man, why not just stick a knife into her chest. There’s no way to tell how long Calum’s had Duke but it’s abundantly clear that Calum adores Duke. “We can say Moose is your partner in crime too. Even if it’s just for a day.”

Calum chuckles. “Yeah. And as you can see, she’s not afraid to get what she wants.”

Bree nods, turning her attention back to Moose for just a moment and pressing a soft kiss to the top of the dog’s head.

“I can take those, by the way.”

Calum’s hand is outstretched, ready to take the damp clothes from her. Bree shouldn’t be staring at the veins in his hands and forearm. Nor should she be wondering what the back of his knuckles feel like against her cheek. But Bree could absolutely wonder how to prove to Calum’s old man that she was trustworthy--and that is a much safer thought.

Bree hands over the makeshift sack. “Thanks, again.”

It’s a curt nod. The smile seems genuine though. “I’ll get this into the wash.”

Bree stays where she is for the moment, both hands scratching at Moose’s chin.It’s safer to say here. It’s safer to just give into Moose and give her all the affection because if Bree stands, she’s going to do something reckless, like peek through a room or try to find the laundry room just to steal another glance at Calum.

His departure doesn’t last long enough. Calum comes padding back down the hallway, the soft recessed light reflecting off his skin. The hum and rumble of the washer is clear as it echoes throughout the house. “If you’re calling for a tow,” Calum starts, holding out his phone. It’s unlocked and on the keypad. “You’re risking the rain again.”

Bree groans sliding to her butt and resting against the wall. “You’re right. I’m just moving in with a friend for this new job and I didn’t anticipate my car breaking down during my drive.”

Calum leans into the wall opposite from her. “How far away is it?”

“Literally it’s like two blocks from here. A light came on and I didn’t pay attention to it and I’m just a fucking idiot.”

“Hey, no, it’s alright. Shit happens all the time.” Calum sides down the wall, squatting. “You can spend the night here. I know it’s only two blocks, but the weather’s a fucking mess. I can help you move and you can get your car towed to a shop. It all works out.”

Bree wants to tell him to shut the fuck up. She wants him to take back everything he just said. There’s no way she can survive a night in this man’s home. “I don’t want to impose. Maybe the rain will let up.”

Calum shakes his head. “Really, just spend the night. We can transfer whatever you need into my truck in the morning and once the truck gets your car I can take you to your friend’s house.” Calum smiles softly when he spies Moose curling up into Bree’s lap. “Besides, Moose likes you. I think she’d be sad to see you go.”

“But your old man Duke, I might have to put some work in with him.”

“He’s gotten better. Just talk sweet to him.”

Their laughter is soft. Bree rests her head into the wall. She still has his phone and she’s reminded that she ought to call Drew. “You’re right. I don’t want to go back out into that rain.”

He motions with two fingers and Bree hands back the phone. The unlock is quick. “Make your calls. I got tea, coffee. I think there’s hot chocolate if you want that. If you haven’t eaten, we can figure that out too.”

“You do realize that I’m like practically a stranger. I showed up at your door like a fucking drowned rat. You didn’t even tell me my mascara had run.”

He knows all that. Calum doesn’t need to be told that. And sure it probably sounds dumb and definitely a little stupid. But there was something about Bree that makes him worry less. It helps that she hasn’t flipped, hasn’t given out any indication that she knows who he is. And maybe it’s not safe to assume that she doesn’t know. But he has a strong feeling that if she did, they wouldn’t be having such an easy conversation. His gut would tell him if something was suspicious.

“You looked pretty stressed out. I didn’t think you needed to know that your mascara was giving you raccoon eyes.”

With the phone to her ear, Bree glares at Calum. It’s playful and he laughs in returns, before pushing up off the wall. Moose sits with Bree but watches as Calum carries himself into the kitchen. He ought to be ashamed. He ought to feel more guilty at the way he wonders what she looks like beneath his clothes. And it doesn’t help, not at all, that she looks cuter, in his clothes than he ever did.

It’s comforting to know now at least Bree seemed to be less tress. When she first stood in front of him on his porch, her brown eyes were blown, shifting her weight. She looked somewhere between frustrated and almost amused. Like she had expected something like this to happen to her. Though, there was still an air of apprehension and worry.

“I’m safe,” Bree says. Her voice carries throughout the house. “Just some car trouble. I’ll get it seen in the morning. Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

The conversation soon ends but it’s only another minute before her voice picks up again. “Hey, Dad. Yeah, it’s me, Bree. Had to borrow another phone for like two seconds. Anyways, car went flatline on me. But I’m okay and safe for the night. Gonna get it checked out in the morning.”

There’s a pause. Calum pours a glass of water, figuring that’s the safest bet until Bree gets off the phone. “Yeah, Dad. Really I’m safe. In a..hotel...No the car’s not just out on some highway. Just--” Whatever Bree was about to say clearly doesn’t outrank her father’s statement. “I don’t have an estimate yet. Hopefully it’s not too much. I don’t know. I’ll worry about that tomorrow….Thanks. Love you too.”

Bree’s glad the house isn’t a maze. It makes finding Calum a lot easier. But as she settles onto the barstool, sliding his phone back to him, she does wish she had more time to mentally prepare for Calum’s gaze. His eyes are warm, and inviting. That’s not a thing she needs to be worried about right now. Right now, she’s got to worry about her car and moving, and paying to fix her car.

“Have you eaten yet?” Calum turns to the fridge, listing off the options he has, even offers ordering something for her if none of his options sound appealing. “Tea, coffee, hot chocolate. Which I’m like ninety percent sure I already offered, sorry.” It’s paired with a soft chuckle.

Bree did eat. She made sure to text her dad when she stopped and when she got back onto the road. But maybe it’s just the adrenaline, the stress of her car, and maybe it’s partially something to do so she doesn’t say something stupid, or completely left field. “Hot chocolate would be nice.”

Just as Calum sets the mug down, a buzzer sounds. Both dogs bark for a moment before quieting down. “I put a blanket in the dryer. Just in case you were cold,” Calum explains. “Did you want it or is that overkill?”

“You--you didn’t have to. But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no, of course.” He knows he’s staring. Her smile is bright and shows off all her teeth too. Like she’s not afraid of anything, or maybe she’s learned to put on a smile even when she’s terrified. His gaze lingers a little too long on her lips. The way she works her teeth over the skin, but they’re still full. Calum wonders if they’re soft too. “So,” he starts, spinning to face his cupboards, “you said you were moving? Just a couple blocks down?”

Bree nods, eyes trailing down his shoulders and back that flex as he grabs onto the blue box. “Yeah-yeah. Got a new job and a friend of mine agreed to let me crash with them until I got an apartment. Wanted to save up some more money before throwing myself into the woes of financially living alone.”

Calum hums, tearing open a packet. “Sounds like we’ll be neighbors. At least for a little bit.” Paws click on the floor. Too light to be Moose and when Calum glances down, he spies Duke lapping at his water bowl in the kitchen.

“I mean, it’s a couple blocks,” Bree insists. If she says that, if she puts more distance between them, she won’t be tempted to drive through his neighborhood and she won’t be tempted to make a joke about staying over more often. She won’t make any moves tonight either.

“Close enough,” Calum says. “A couple blocks, a couple minutes. I’m sure you’ll always remember this street though, after tonight.”

“Oh, definitely.”

Her drink finished, Calum hands over the mug. Their fingers brush, just a split second in time, hardly enough time to really know it’s happening, yet they know anyway. Bree tightens her hold around the warming ceramic. It’s still too hot to really take a drink. But Bree sips from it anyway, after a couple gentle blows onto the dark brown sweet drink. She prays, chants to herself, that she most definitely should not linger too long on the thought or the way her skin felt electric.

“You sure you’re not hungry? I really don’t mind ordering you something.” Calum clears his throat. There aren’t many times Calum’s glad that the bar seat has a counter at waist height, but this time in particular he’s grateful. His spine still tingles just a little.

“I ate already, thanks.”

“Any dessert? I’ve got ice cream and there’s a great place not too far that delivers cookies.”

Dessert. It’s not even the fact that Calum asks. It’s how he asks. His brows shooting up on his face, thumb pointing over his shoulder to his fridge and freezer. It’s the way he bites his own lip, leaning into the counter on his elbows. Bree’s not sure if it’s some secret language, if he’s asking more than just the tub of sugary confection in his freezer.

“Really, I’m okay. Thank you.”

Calum nods. “Yeah, okay. No problem. Well, I gotta check on that load of laundry. But feel free to watch TV, snuggle with Moose, see if you can champion Duke’s heart. You’re free to whatever’s in the kitchen.”

It’s a curt nod as Bree works down another sip of her drink before Calum leaves. Once she’s sure he’s gone down back into the depths of his place, she drops her head onto her neck. Fuck me, she mouths. She can text Drew, let them know the true details of what the hell is going on. Though Bree knows the response will be a swift, You better fuck him and I want deeds.

Her phone. It’s still dead. Turning on the stool, she spots her purse still on the coffee table and both dogs curled up on one end of the couch. They watch her with curious eyes as she walks over. Thankfully an outlet is nearby with a phone charger already snug into the outlet. Nothing was plugged into it. She hoped Calum wouldn’t mind for the time being.

Plugging in her phone, Bree settles onto the far end of the couch, letting Duke have his space. But Moose is not shy and walks over, head resting in Bree’s lap. “Help me win over Duke, Moose.”

Moose’s response is turning to her back, gazing expectedly. “Okay, sure, since you’re yanking my leg,” Bree laughs, rubbing her hand over Moose’s belly. Duke still doesn’t seem bothered by her presence. She can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Though she’s inclined to say good. He could be barking, and yet, he’s just watching, assessing Bree.

“I get it,” Bree states to Duke. “You’re thinking, sussing me out. I respect that.” Bree didn’t want to be the type to be nosey but staring at the living room and the house itself. What did Calum do? Drew had a decent break in the producing and DJing world and bought a house up here. Does Calum do something similar? And if so, why wasn’t he more worried about having some stranger in his house?

Bree’s phone buzzes. Text messages from Drew and her dad. Old alerts from various group chats and email alerts that were all muted all she drove. Just as she reaches back for it, a snout presses into her hand. “Moose, you’re literally getting snuggles right now,” Bree laughs.

“Oh, he’s not going to like that.”

Bree looks up to Calum who’s grinning and then down to the snout. She gasps at the sight of Duke resting his head against her hand, his body curled up next to her. “Oh my god, oh my god. Is this real life?” she whispers, looking up to Calum.

“Yeah, this is real life.”

“I would literally die for you and I just met you,” Bree chuckles mostly to herself, gently petting the top of Duke’s head.

Calum tries not to think about how Duke really isn’t all that fond of new people. And for him to curl up next to Bree is an amazing feat. Does Duke sense something Calum can’t? Or maybe they’re both sensing the same thing, that Bree’s striking and funny. And above all, she’s safe. It’s almost like Calum’s known her forever, but maybe Calum just wants to feel that, so it makes everything he’s feeling and on the verge of doing make sense.

“You do realize I literally don’t care if you want to change the channel,” Calum returns, settling on the opposite end of the couch.

“This is literally your house! I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

Bree is a puddle of dogs and is sinking into the cushions of his couch. Calum risks a glance from the movie. He thinks it’s one in the Batman franchise but he can’t be sure. The curls have become evident, even though she’s tried to tame them into a high bun. Her cheeks are full, much like his.

“So what brings you into town? I think you mentioned a new job? You don’t have to get too deep into it if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, I interned remotely at this magazine for a while. Wrote articles, did some shoots for them. It was mostly music based, looking at underground and indie artists. They had to lay some folks off. But I was already looking to go elsewhere. Got hired and getting paid more so now I’m moving into the city since it’s not a remote position. My friend Drew’s letting crash with her. I got hired like last week so I hardly had any time to find a place or anything.”

“Drew? Like Drew with the dreads who’s literally DJing at almost every club in this fucking state Drew?”

“You know her?” Bree asks.

“Yes! I met her in the studio a couple times. I didn’t even realize she was in the neighborhood.”

“Studio?” Bree figured Calum had to be a creative type and very successful at that. She just hadn’t suspected that thought to be true.

“I dabble,” Calum returns, shrugging his shoulders. Dabble sounds betters, doesn’t put too much pressure or anything.

“Looks like dabbling is working out well for you.”

“So, do you shoot shows for certain bands or just whoever?”

“Just whoever. In some ways I want to be on the cutting edge. A few bands from the old magazine I covered caught a wave. I don’t want to say I’m the reason why, but,” the sentence trails off into a fit of giggles.

“But you’re the reason why,” Calum concludes with a laugh. The two of them talk for hours. Bree telling Calum about the embarrassing trip to the gas station when she realized she had pulled in the wrong way to fill up her tank today and how when she was a kid she’d constantly mix up her left and her right. She still does if she’s honest, so she’s the worst person to ask for direction.

Calum doesn’t share a lot, the occasional story about when he and his friends lived a house together and going a little too hard on the whiskey in coffee and how once he split his pants during a jig. Though mostly Calum just let’s Bree talk. He finds that she can go a mile a minute but she’s good about pulling at certain strings. When she brings up knowing Drew since they were kids, and Calum mentions his friends, she asks about them. Just what it was like growing up with them and what about living with them that he misses.

“Honestly, I’d rather talk to you than be interviewed by any other talk show hot for a decade at least.” Calum states it only after realizing it’s nearing midnight. Michael’s come and gone to pick up Moose. Bree’s hot chocolate has turned cold.

“It’s because I hate interviewing people. I like having conversations,” Bree returns. Duke’s settled between them, facing Calum now but doesn’t shy away when Bree scratches along his back.

“I’m not much of a talker, normally.”

“If that’s your way of saying I’m talking too much, you can just say it. I’m used to it.”

Calum shakes his head. “No, no, not at all. It’s just, you’re easy to talk to, that’s all.” Bree curls up, feet tucked under herself as she faces Calum. HIs t-shirt seems to swallow her up but also she wears it like she owns it, the front tucked into the band of the sweatpants just a little. “Like really easy to talk to,” Calum whispers, trying not to imagine the sight of her beneath him. He hasn’t had something like this--a conversation that could last hours and the ease to almost spill his guts-- in years outside of the guys.

“I know I’ve probably said this like a thousand times, but really thank you. For helping me out. It means a lot.” Bree looks up from her lashes. She knows that look that Calum’s giving her. It’s the eyes from when he questioned dessert. She didn’t want to believe that he was into her, not like that at least.

“You--Really, it’s nothing.”

His gaze hasn’t faltered, as if he’s reading every thought behind her skull. It’s intense and god, it’s not the thing she needs. Keep it together, she reprimands herself. “I’m just, I’m going to dump this.” Bree stands, taking her mug into the kitchen.

“No, no let me,” Calum rushes, pushing to his feet. “You’re the guest.”

Bree wishes Calum had stayed on the couch. She needed to get away, just to breath and think clearly for two seconds. But Calum’s right behind her and his hand reaches out behind her to take the mug. At the sink, they face each other. Close enough that she can feel just how warm he is, smell the Old Spice body wash she saw under the sink on his skin.

“Really, I don’t mind. You’re already doing a lot today.”

Calum didn’t realize just how tall Bree was until now. She stands just about eye to eye with him, only off by a few inches. Four or five, if Calum had to venture a guess. And it would be so easy to kiss her. Just drop his chin a hair and capture her full pouty lips. “Helping someone in need isn’t a lot.”

Bree exhales her laughter. “It’s not a lot when you’re a good person, that’s for sure.” She tugs at the mug just a little, pulling into her body just a hair. There’s not much space between them at it stands. “Please,” she whispers. She doesn’t even know what she’s saying please for. Is it please let me wash the damn mug and walk away? Or is please just kiss me already so there’s no more dancing around this tension?

Calum moves the mug, both of them moving along with his instrumentation. The mug settles into the basin of the sink with a soft thud, the spoon clicking against the sides. “Please what?”

And the words are falling from her lips before she can stop herself. “Kiss me.”

Calum exhales just a hair and cups her jaw into his palm. Bree meets him though, closes the already centimeters between them. Their lips touch for a brief moment. It feels like the first sip of ice cold water on a hot water. It’s satisfying, makes you exhale in relief and it’s only in that moment as the first slides down your throat that you realize how thirsty you’ve been. Calum secures a hold to her waist, pushing her into the counter. Their lips meet again, and again, slightly harsh exhales as hands pull at t-shirts and tanks.

Calum trails a hand under the hem of the t-shirt, running his palm over her stomach and side. Bree shudders at the touch, head falling back on her neck. Calum seizes the opportunity to lay a trail of kisses across her throat. Her sighs are like literal music to his ears. He sucks at the skin to hear it again. And he’s greeted with something much better. Bree moans, arms locking around his neck. Her fingers dance along his shoulder and back and when her head finally reconnects, she reconnects her mouth to Calum’s.

The kitchen turns into a bedroom. All Bree focuses on is the feel of Calum against her, as shirts are shed and pants too. Calum swallows down every sound she gives him. He drinks in the sight of her, head thrown back into his pillows, and legs wrapped around his waist. Bree kisses along his biceps, teeth grazing over the tattoos on his skin. Their senses fill with each other, the sighs, the moans, the pleas, the encouragement and even the awkward shuffle and giggles. Calum never wants to hear his name for another set of lips ever. Not with the way it falls so easily from Bree’s mouth. Bree hums when she hears the grunted curses Calum exhales as his hips rock into hers.

With Calum’s arm draped over her naked waist, he presses a kiss to her cheek. Bree turns to face him, a grin at her lips. “I’m washing that damn mug. Just so you know.”

Calum laughs, shoulders shaking and he squeezes at her waist. “Why am I not surprised at that fact?”

“I don’t care if I have to sneak out of the bed at 5 in the morning. I’ll do it.”

And true to her word, Bree does wash the morning. It’s helped of course when Calum’s alarm goes off and in the shuffle of him rousing awake and trying to turn if off, Bree slips out from the sheets. She throws on his t-shirt again and bolts to the kitchen. The morning is nice though, though she has to steal clothes from the trunk of her car before they can transfer all the boxes into Calum’s SUV.

Calum closes the trunk down, wearing the t-shirt she borrowed and in jeans. Sunglasses cover his face while a trucker hat hides away the curls. “Tow truck said what time again?”

“10 am. So another,” Bree checks her phone, “10 minutes, hopefully. Thanks, again.”

“Really, don’t worry about it. And you can stop saying thanking me. I know it’s a thing you’re probably going to do like a thousand more times.”

Bree swats at his arm. “Look here, I’m trying to be polite. You can be a sour puss elsewhere.”

Calum cackles. “Sour puss? That’s a new one. Also, you sure you don’t want any breakfast? I know a place nearby. Great pancakes.”

“Not much of a breakfast person.”

He nods. “Noted. What about lunch?”

“Yeah, I’m definitely a lunch person.”

“Good, because they have good sandwiches and fries too.”

“Was-Did you just ask me on a lunch date?”

The rumble of a truck cuts through the open air. Both of them turn to see the tow truck coming down the block. Once Bree gets the finalized details about which car shop they’re taking her car and giving said car shop the okay to call her once it’s ready, Bree turns to Calum. “You never answered my question and if it is a date, I’m paying.” Calum insisted on helping her out by paying for the tow.

Calum’s smile is bright. “I’m not a cheap date.”

“I’m sure you’re not.”

“Is Drew home? Do you have a key? We can drop your stuff off, eat, and then check up on your car?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“I know you said you’re bad with directions, but I need you to navigate.” It’s not hard or long before they reach Drew’s place. Not quite long enough for a full song to finish. Drew’s out on the porch when the two of them roll up.

She laughs, leaning onto the railing. “Bree when you told me you got stranded I thought you landed on the side of the road. Fancy meeting you again, Calum.”

“Hi, Drew. Turns out we’re neighbors.”

Drew arches her eyebrow, looking at back at Bree. Bree holds up her hands. “I’ll explain everything later. Over dinner.” Calum tries to bite back his grin, but glances over to Bree. The question dances across his eyebrows, everything everything? Bree rolls her eyes, going to the trunk.

____________________

When a knock sounds at Calum’s door, he almost doesn’t answer it. That laziness is helped by the fact that he was almost on the verge of sleep. But another knock immediately follows it. “Coming!” he calls out. He checks his phone first, but sees no text from Bree.

As the door cracks open, Calum’s greeted with a bright smile. Bree stands at his door. No rain this time, no mascara running down her face. Just her full cheeks and pouty lips and bright smile. “You said you’d text me.”

“I made cookies,” she returns, holding up the carrying tray. “As a thank you.”

Calum laughs, opening the door wider to let her in. Bree walks in and immediately spots Duke on the couch. “My precious boy!” she coos.

Calum takes the tray knowing that she’ll get distracted soon enough. It’s been a little over three weeks since Bree showed up at his doorstep. Most days they call, or text. Occasionally, Calum drags her out of the house to grab dinner with him or a couple drinks. There’s some unspoken rule, an energy between them. They keep it casual. But even still conversations on the phone can go until 2 in the morning. Calum just listening to the sound of her voice. He asks nearly any question under the sun just to keep her talking.

Bree asks more about the band, never crossing a line. Mostly to see how the other guys are doing, especially their dogs. Calum tells her a bit more about the music he’s making but work is mostly kept separate. Bree doesn’t want Calum to think she’s using him. Calum asks about projects but never makes her divulge more than she’s comfortable with.

Calum cracks open the tray and sees a mass of chocolate chip cookies displayed in front of him. He picks one off the top and the center practically melts in his mouth. He hums at the taste but knows there’s no way he can have that many cookies in his house. “This is too many cookies,” he calls out over the bite.

“That’s why it’s called sharing!” Bree returns, kissing the top of Duke’s head. She wonders into the kitchen, taking a cookie as well. “Did I interrupt a nap? I’m sorry.” His eyes are puffy and he keeps blinking.

“Was trying,” he admits, lower back resting into the edge of the counter.

“I’m sorry! I’ll go. Oh my god, really. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Bree is quick to push away from the counter and almost gets to the front door. Calum’s quick though and wraps her waist up in her arms.

“Nap with me?”

“I’m not sleepy. I just wanted to stuff my face with cookies and cuddle Duke.”

“You can do that, just stay with me please.” He buries his nose into her neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. He covers her neck in kisses between pleas. Bree giggles at the light scratch of Calum’s scruff. He’s started letting the bread grow out, even though it’s a slightly pitiful excuse of a beard.

“Fine, fine, fine. I’ll stay.”

With her head resting on his chest, she listens to the steady rhythm of his heart. His hold is warm, but not uncomfortable. Duke’s at their feet and Bree thinks maybe she could take a nap. It wouldn’t hurt at all. Especially not if it was a nap on Calum’s chest. It was crazy to her, to think that fate had stranded on the side of a street but also introduced her to a great friend. And maybe there was more. Maybe there’s more for them down the road. But for now, they had an understanding.

“Did you think when you showed up at my door like a drowned rat this is what would happened?” Calum’s voice is soft and a little mumbly.

“No, I was bracing for you to be a serial killer. And instead you’re a serial cuddler, so I’ll that that any day of the week, hands down.”

They laugh, chest shaking against each other. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“It’s much appreciated,” Bree says in a whisper. She lifts her head just a little. His eyes are close, lashes practically brushing long his cheek. She lightly traces the moles around his mouth and cheek.

“That’s not napping, Missy.” Her response is a soft kiss and Bree rests her head against on his chest, arms squeezing at his waist. The moment is still and feels like it could never be broken.

______________ Tagging @5-secondsofcolor for your morning reads.

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