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tonyspank · 11 months

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HEART 3

Summary: And till the very end, it was always heart.

A/N: I HAD TO. also quinn is not really ghost face because i said so (i was too lazy to add her)

Warnings: death, stabbings, murder, rushed writing and.. yeah i think that’s it. Words: 4.5k

Part One Part Two

Tara Carpenter was a good girlfriend. And yes, you two were officially a couple. Everyone knew about it, including Kayla and Frankie.

But you didn’t care about them, you cared about Tara. And she definitely cared about you. Everyday she’d text or call you to see if you were okay if she couldn’t physically do it herself in person. She’d also come to every practice you had, forcing Chad third wheel on the way back home.

And she even invited you over to the ‘core four’ hangouts.

Everyone was fine with it, well everyone except for Mindy. It’s not that Mindy didn’t like you, she just didn’t trust you… enough.

Sam had even told Mindy to get over it, she liked you. That had to mean something, she trusted you with her sister, and she even trusted you herself. Anika liked you, Chad obviously liked you, Ethan liked you, Quinn liked you and she called you a sex magnet but not without earning a glare from your girlfriend.

Even though your girlfriend was great, absolutely magnificent. You didn't get to prepare yourself for what has been happening the past few days.

One of the core four hangouts, also including Anika, Ethan, Quinn, and even the cute boy from next door ended into something horrible. The news had announced that your film study teacher had been murdered, and shortly after that Sam and your girlfriend got attacked by Ghostface at a bodega.

You tried your best to comfort your girlfriend or be there in any way possible.

This is exactly how you found yourself leaning into Tara as Mindy ranted to your friend group about who the killers could be.

"Are you okay?" You mumble into Tara's head, placing a kiss on it. She nods, giving you a small smile before softly grasping your jaw, and placing a quick kiss on your lips. You pull away, returning a smile.

You look away from your girlfriend only to see her sister watching you two, she smiles at you and you return a tight-lipped one, turning back to Mindy.

"Okay! Nerds listen up!" Everyone's chattering stops, and they all look at Mindy.

"As terrifying as this all is, I'm actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time." She says, fixing her shirt.

Chad hums, looking down at his notebook with a pen in his hand.

"It's fine." Mindy takes in a deep breath, "Okay! The way I see it, someone is out to make a sequel to the requel." Anika raises her hand, "Um. What's a requel?" You nod along, confused as well.

"You're beautiful sweetie. Let's hold questions to the end." Anika blinks in response, giving her girlfriend a tight-lipped smile.

Sam speaks up, "Stab one took place in Woodsboro. Stab two took place in college."

You see Chad write stuff down in his notebook, as Tara says something beside you. "So we think that the killer is trying to copy the movies?"

"That is one possibility." Mindy answers, "Hero's now in college, check! Suspicious new characters brought in to round out the suspect list." Mindy adds, staring at you.

You furrow your eyebrows, looking around as you point at yourself. "Why'd you look at me?"

Mindy ignores you, "And or body count! Check, check, check, and check!"

"I don't like this." Ethan voices, shaking his head you nod in agreement.

"But it just can't be about Stab Two." Tara furrows her eyebrows, "Why not?"

"It would make sense if this was just a sequel, but we're not in a sequel. Because nobody just makes sequels anymore!" Mindy looks at the group, who all have confused looks on their faces.

"We're in a franchise!" She lifts her arms with a smile on her face, "And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise." Anika sighs at her girlfriend.

"I had a feeling," Sam mutters.

"Rule one! Everything is bigger than last time."

You point at Chad's notebook, "Hey, might wanna write this down." He looks at you before hurrying to write in his notebook. "Right!"

"Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count, longer chases, shoot-outs, beheadings. You gotta top what came before to keep people coming back."

Chad lifts his head from his notebook, lost. "Beheadings?" Mindy nods, "Beheadings."

"Rule two! Whatever happened last time, expect the opposite. The franchise only survives by subverting expectations. If the killers last time were whiny snowflake film nerds with Letterboxd accounts instead of personalities—," Ethan raises his eyebrows at Mindy's words.

"— You can bet the opposite will be true here."

"Can I guess the next rule?" You speak up, Mindy points at you, "No." You frown.

"Rule three, no one is safe. Legacy characters? Cannon fodder at this point. Usually bought back only to be killed off in some cheap bid for nostalgia. It's not looking too good for Gale and Kirby. Oh, and that's not even the worst part!"

"Oh! This is the part where she tells us the worst part." Chad says not even looking up from his notes. "The worst part is! Franchises are just continuing episodic instalments designed to boost an IP. Which means main characters are completely expendable now, too."

"Wait, does Tara count as a main character?" You question, with a frown on your lips.

"Y/N, I've let it go before but you've gotta stop interrupting me, dude!" You thin out your lips in embarrassment.

"Anyways! Laurie Strode, Nancy Thompson, Elen Ripley, Jigsaw, Tony Stark, James Bond, I mean, even Luke Skywalker all died so their franchises could live on! That means it's not just the friend group, any of us could go at any time... so yeah Y/N especially your girlfriend and Sam."

Tara and Sam eye each other as Ethan joins in, "Wait? Any of us?"

"Yeah."

"Am I in the friend group?"

"Yeah."

"Am I like, one of the targets?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Am I gonna die a virgin?" Confused looks fill everyone's faces, "Um..." You mumble looking at Tara who just stares ahead, pretending she didn't hear.

"That was a weird overshare... but it brings us to our current suspects. Ethan!" Mindy stands in front of Ethan, a large smile on her face. "The shy dorky guy, who no one expects because he's so shy and dorky!"

"Okay, wait! Why am I on the suspect list because I'm randomly Chad's roommate?"

"Roommate lotteries can be juked." Ethan rolls his eyes, "You could've fixed it to get next to us!"

Mindy then walks over to Quinn, "Quinn! The slutty roommate, a horror movie—," Mindy Gives a Chef's Kiss, "—classic."

"Sex-positive, but... thank you?"

"Mm-hmm. How did you come to live with Sam and Tara?" Quinn looks at Sam who nods at her, "I answered their ad online?"

"Okay! Say no more! You've already implicated yourself enough!" Tara immediately speaks up for her roommate. "It was an anonymous ad, Mindy. And you know we vetted her, plus her dad's a cop."

"And that makes it more likely that she's the killer. Because having a cop dad is a great cover! Do you not remember how these movies work Tara!" Tara looks away at Quinn who asks, "Is she always like this?"

Sam tilts her head side to side, "Anika." Anika blows Mindy a kiss, who reciprocates it straight away. "Never trust the love interests." Anika’s face falls blank at her girlfriend’s words.

"Which brings me to Y/N Y/L/N, the star female wide receiver of our college team. Never in a million years would someone suspect you because you're so popular, smart, awkwardly cute, and also randomly dating Tara."

"Are these my suspicions or are you flirting with me?" You joke, a small chuckle leaving your lips. "Mindy we didn't randomly start dating, Chad introduced us… kinda.” Tara defends you.

"It's easy to become friends with Chad, especially if you're on the football team!"

"Hey!" Chad adds in, slightly offended.

"Y/N, weren't you raised in Woodsboro? And didn't you talk about our old friend Amber Freeman before on social media? Or did you think no one here knew about that?"

You frown for the one-hundredth time today. "Mindy, Y/N never wrote those DM's and so what she's from Woodsboro? She has nothing to do with Ghostface." Tara insists, Mindy holds up her hands in surrender at the tone of Tara's voice.

Sam clears her throat, "Okay! So, we have our rules and we have our suspects."

"But wait, wait! What about you guys?" Ethan says, motioning to Chad, Tara, Mindy, and Sam.

"I mean, I think it's pretty safe to rule out the four of us—" Mindy crossed her arms proceeding, "—who went through this last year in Woodsboro."

Chad smiles, pointing his pen at Mindy. "Agreed."

"Um, not agreed," Quinn adds. "What if the trauma you all went through caused one or more of you to snap?" Sam eyes her roommate, shocked.

"Yeah, or the fame you got from the killing made you thirsty for more?" You shake your head at their words.

"Let's be honest here, the theories online about Sam—" Ethan tried to imply, but you cut him off, immediately. "Don't fucking go there, Ethan."

He raises his eyebrows, surprised.

"Okay!" Anika joins in. "She's right though. I mean, face the facts. If we're all suspects, you're all suspects."

Everyone in the group begins eyeing each other, silently.

Well, until you speak up.

"Can we please get something to eat now?"

As you said before. You never prepared yourself for what's been happening. Long story short, Anika's dead, and so is Quinn.

And Ethan was not there when it happened.

Then Gale Weathers shows you, your friend group, and an FBI agent a Stab shrine. Was it cool, fuck yeah? Would it have been cooler under different circumstances, fuck yeah!

And then after that, you find out Sam and Tara stole a police car, only to arrive late to their destination so Gale Weathers is now dead.

Ethan was there, but you weren't.

You had extra practice drills. But you were there on the train, being in the same cart as Mindy and Ethan. It felt creepy, and it felt as if Ghostface was right there.

Mindy ended up getting attacked under your watch, well Ethan's as well. Ethan took care of Mindy while you tried your best to make it to Stab's shrine, but you were five minutes behind everyone else.

"When was the last time anyone even used this place?" Tara asks, trying to make small talk with Chad. "It's old."

Chad chuckles, reaching for the small box of candy in front of him, Tara does the same, their hands touching. "Sorry. You can have them."

He tried handing them to Tara, "You think I want these?" They turn, facing each other fully.

"They're like a hundred years old." Tara jokes. Chad laughs, looking down at his feet, and Tara cracks another joke. "Maybe that's your thing?"

It's weird. The tension, the way Chad's staring at her. She looks away, "I actually—"

Chad hastily connects their lips, and Tara kisses back. But she slightly pulls away realizing what she's done.

"I'm sorry— I can't. Um, what about Y/N?" Before Chad could apologize, Tara lets out a shriek feeling a sharp pain in her upper back.

Chad pushes Tara away, his heart dropping seeing the masked killer he's been running away from this entire time. The killer tries to slash Chad but he successfully ducks in time.

Ghostface tried again, but Chad blocks it, throwing them into a movie poster. Glass falls everywhere, and they're now wobbly on their feet. Again they try attacking Chad, only for him to dodge and attempt to throw a punch.

Ghost faces dodges it well, leaning back. Chad takes their moment of weakness to kick them in the stomach and they fall onto the ground, he kicks them again before rushing to Tara's side.

"Come on!" He helps the dark-haired girl up, running towards the exit, only for the door to fly open by Sam. Sam screams along with Tara, "It's Kirby! She's the killer!" Sam informs the group, freaking out.

The trio runs into the middle of the shrine searching for an exit.

Tara points at the upper balcony, "Hey, what about that? There's an exit door! Maybe it leads to the roof or something?" She rushes out at the end.

"It's only one way to find out, let's go! Let's go!" They all walk towards the latter only to be met with a Ghostface jumping from the stage.

Ghost Face missed all three stabs at the group in front of them, dropping their knife. Pulling out another one, they slice whatever's in front of them, only to behead a mannequin.

"Beheading!" Chad shouts. Chad then tackles Ghostface before picking up a camera. "Smile for the camera motherfucker!" He hits the killer with the camera and then runs off with Tara and Sam.

Ghostface then chases the three in a narrow hallway, getting met with a camera to the face again.

Now back where Tara and Chad started, they try their best to fight off the person in the black cloak, Chad dodges all their attacks, while the Carpenter sisters grab their arms pushing them into the wooden counter behind them.

Tara groans hitting her own back as Chad punches Ghostface in the center of their mask.

They fall onto the ground and Tara takes this as a chance to kick them in the face, Chad picks up a gumball machine, holding it above his head, but before he could smash it onto the killer he's stabbed into his side by the second Ghostface.

He lets out a huge shout, and Tara screams ready to run and help, but Sam holds her back. "Nooo! Chad!"

Chad's now on one knee, surrounded by the two killers. They bring him onto both of his knees, facing the siblings, they show no mercy, stabbing him anywhere and everywhere.

Tara lets out another scream, watching Chad bleed out from his mouth until he finally drops out.

The two killers face the girls, wiping off their knives in sync. Sam then opens the door, pushing Tara through. Again, they're in the middle of the shrine. One Ghostface appears through the curtains of the stage, and another appears in their path as they try to escape, motioning "No" with their knife as they shake their head.

Sam picks up two bricks, giving one to her younger sister. "Sam!"

The killers come closer, "Ready." Tara let out small cries, unable to form a word as she had no time to process the death of her friend.

"I need you to be ready. Ready?"

Tara swallows, "Look at me." Sam instructs, she immediately listens looking at her sister. "I'm ready."

"Come on motherfucker!" Tara shouts at the Ghostface in front of her. Before anyone could attack, gunshots are fired. The two Ghostfaces duck down along with the sisters.

"It's okay!" Kirby says, with her gun out. "Stay the fuck back!" Sam yells at the blonde woman, "We know it's you, Kirby." Confusion fills her face, "One— One of them knocked me out."

"Kirby stop! Get away from the girls!" Officer Bailey says, pointing his gone at Kirby.

"What are you doing?" She questions, raising her gun at the man. "Did you kill Quinn? Did you kill my daughter?"

"Jesus Christ! Whatever he's been saying to you don't believe him. He's probably the killer."

Ghostface appears behind Officer Bailey, and Kirby's eyes widen in fear. "Behind you!" Gunshots go off, and Kirby's body drops.

Sam and Tara's mouth drops in shock. And the Ghostface pauses their stabbing motions. Wayne thins out his lips, putting away his gun.

"Good job." All Tara and Sam can do is stare ahead in shock, not believing the sight in front of them. "Both of you."

"You?" Tara mumbles. He shrugs, "Yeah, of course, me. Frankly, I expected more from the two of you after what you did to us."

"What do you mean us?"

The Ghostface on the left of Wayne begins to take off their mask. Revealing none other than the shy dorky boy, Ethan.

"Ta-da!" Wayne chuckles, and Ethan smiles. "Mindy was right! It was easy to juke the roommate lottery. I mean all I had to do to meet you was room with the conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad!"

"Fuck it felt good to kill him!" Ethan yells out, the smile still on his lips. He raises the mask in his hand, "This was your grandmothers Sam. Nancy Loomis? Really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it? Speaking of family."

"Wait for it!" Wayne buds in, "My names not even Ethan Landry!" Wayne laughs, "Is it, Dad?"

"Dad?" Tara furrows her eyebrows, confused. Wayne continues laughing with his son.

"Wait. If it's you two, that just leaves..." The Ghostface turns its head to Sam, and she believes the worst. "Mindy?"

Ethan looks over to his right, and they pull off their mask. Revealing Tara's girlfriend, you. "Hey, Sam."

You smile at the older Carpenter, "Wow! I really made an impression on you, huh? You thought it was your own friend over me!"

"Y/N..." Tara says, her voice barely over a whisper. "Hey, love." She can't help but let out a cry, eyes watering.

You fake a frown, "Baby."

"Why!" She shouts, letting her emotions take over. "I loved you!"

"And I love it when you cry! You look so pretty." She glares at you through her blurred vision due to the tears in her eyes. "How could you."

"How could I not? It was so easy becoming that fuck heads friend, and it was even easier getting close to you. Literally, all I had to do was fight a drunk frat boy to get you interested in me!"

"Why?" She repeats, and she doesn't know why. You weren't the girl she fell in love with.

"Quinn, still alive. But she didn't want to get her hands dirty so I did it for her. Gale? Me. The two fucking creeps who killed your film study teacher? Me! Chad, well, that was me and Ethan." You laugh, Ethan looks at you smiling.

Sam shakes her head, she couldn't believe she ever trusted you, not only in general but with her sister. She felt guilty and disappointed in herself.

"Oh, and I got Stu Macher's mask. He's pretty funny." You walk away with Ethan, parting in separate ways. Ethan puts Nancy Loomis's mask on the mannequin wearing her clothes, "Nice."

"Which leads," Wayne reaches inside his jacket. "Your fathers." He holds up Billy Loomis's mask, "This what we've been counting down to Sam."

Sam glances at the mask then back at Wayne, "We're gonna need you to put it on." Sam slaps the mask out of his hand, earning a cut to her arm by Ethan.

"Ooh," Ethan says, laughing. You laugh as well watching the scene unfold across the room.

"You stay the fuck away from her!" Sam holds her arm, looking around at the killers surrounding her. "What is this? Why are you doing this?"

"Ethan, they're still not getting it!" The two of you smile at the siblings in front of you. "They should know better."

"Look, I don't know what you believe but I didn't commit those murders in Woodsboro. It wasn't me."

Wayne rolls his eyes, walking closer to the two. "Oh! We know that. Of course, you didn't! What did you think that this was based on some bullshit conspiracy theory? Come on, who do you think started the rumors of you in the first place."

You raise your hand, "It was pretty simple. Especially how you fucking tased the shit out of me in the middle of a frat party."

"It's not enough to kill someone these days, you have to assassinate their character first." He begins, "Dad finds your horribly disfigured body, some poor sap says on the internet Sam took matters into her own deluded hands."

"Exactly! That's why it's the perfect alibi! Based on the truth." Bailey adds on, pointing at Sam. "You're a killer."

Sam aggressively shakes her head, shouting. "No! No, I'm not!" Ethan joins in, "Yes you are you killed my brother!"

"What are you talking about?" Sam asks, unclear of what's going on.

"His brother died in Woodsboro, in the hands of you, Sam. Along with Amber."

Sam looks at you, then Ethan and finally Wayne. "You're Richie's family." Ethan stabs Sam's chest, "Ding! Ding! Ding! She's finally starting to get it!" Everyone breaks apart, and Tara pushes a mannequin out of their way.

"It was only when I saw those photos—" Tara takes a swing at you with a brick, you dodge it easily a jolly smile on your face. "—of what you did, I knew, I knew you had to be punished!" Ethan cuts off Sam’s path to escape, holding a knife to her face.

"Along with anyone else, that stands in our way." Sam looks at the knife with hooded eyes, then back at Ethan. He presses the knife against her throat, "There she is! There's the fucking killer."

"Real great parenting job by the way," Tara speaks up from in front of you, Ethan grabs her angrily. "Shut the fuck up!" He yells, pushing her. You furrow your eyebrows following behind him, why was he using so much strength to push her?

"Have I been the perfect father? No. Overindulged by these movies, it's a bit Too dark for me but Richie loved them, he loved them, he even made a few of his own."

Wayne turns around and Richie plays on the big screen. Walking up the steps to the stage, "Did you know? There's a very special bond between a father and his first son, that's why I helped him build his collection."

"This is was all his?"

"He was a very passionate collector, I built this as a tribute to him which is why this is where you die, you and anyone who had anything to do with the death of my son. Because everyone dies!"

"Yeah, your son. So pathetic," Wayne tilts his head, "What? That's not true."

"He was a man baby, who made his girlfriend do all his killing." You clench your jaw, angrily.

"He was a strong feral young man."

"He was a limp dick little fuck who cried before I slit his throat." Ethan raises his knife, "Shut your fucking mouth!" He runs up to Sam only to be met with a brick to his face, then gunshots are fired and Wayne falls onto the ground. You look at Tara before looking back at Kirby, rushing over to her and stabbing her in her stomach.

She shrieks in pain, causing you to smile. Something hard knocks you upside your head, and you fall to the side with a groan.

Sam removes the knife you plunged into Kirby while you stand up, "Hey, Samie." Sam quickly raises her knife, attempting to stab you in your chest but you block it, grabbing her shoulder and pressing your thumb inside her wound. She yells out, trying her best to overpower you, leaning in she gets close enough and stabs you, swiftly pulling out the knife before repeating multiple times.

"Fuck!" You fall back.

"Sam!" Tara calls out, climbing up the ladder. Sam makes her way to her sister, climbing up as she tries her best to make it to the exit.

The structure under Tara breaks, and Sam immediately grabs Tara's arm. You and Wayne are now back up, laughing at the situation.

"I can't! I can't! I can't grab on!" Tara cries, trying her best to latch onto her sister's arm, but the blood leaking from her wounds is making it nearly impossible.

You jump up at Tara, swinging your knife at her feet. "I thought you loved me, Tara? How could you kiss Chad? I should fucking stab you again!"

"Fuck you!" She seethes, "Fuck you!" You reply. You continue taking swings at your girlfriend's feet, noticing that Ethan has made his way to the balcony.

"You guys are fucked now!" You laugh.

"Sam! Sam. Let me go." Tara lets go of her sister's arm, only being supported by Sam holding onto her. "Sam, let me see my girlfriend!" You shout at her.

"Trust me. You have to let me go." Sam looks at the knife in her belt pocket, taking it out and hanging it to Tara. Tara falls, and you take the chance to stab her in her stomach.

Her face squeezes in pain. You let go of the knife that’s plunged in her stomach knocking out the knife in her own hand, now grabbing both of her hands you pin them above her head. You straddle her, a huge smile on her face.

"Do you remember this position?" Tara tries her best to fight back, but you are obviously stronger than her. She begins to cry again, overwhelmed. You can't help but stare at her, feeling your heart drop. Why were you doing this, especially to her?

"I love you, Y/N. I didn't want to kiss Chad. I wanted you, and I still do. I love you, please—"

"Shut the fuck up!" You switch your hold on her hands to only your right hand, and your left hand shakily reaches for your knife.

Tara lets out small cries, pleading with you.

Your hand hovers over the knife, and you look back at the girl under you. Your eyes begin to water and you notice yourself crying, "I'm— I'm sorry Tara, I'm so sorry!" Due to the emotions you're experiencing, your strength fades away and Tara overpowers you grabbing the knife next to her shoulder, stabbing you in your chest.

She pushes you by the knife and you fall onto your back, taking out the knife, she repeatedly stabs you again.

You watch her, tears coming out of both of your eyes. Your mouth begins to fill with blood, and she stops. "Tar...Tara." You attempt to speak, blood flying, closing her eyes as it splats on her face, replacing the freckles that you loved so dearly.

"The... note." Tara drops the knife beside you, "The n..." You try and repeat, Tara brushes your hair out of your face, uncontrollably sobbing on top of you. Reaching under your cloak, she feels your pockets, reaching inside and indeed finding a note.

Her bloody and shaky hands unfold it, and it reminds her of the night she wrote her first note to you. You send a weak smile, slowly feeling yourself let go.

"hey love, i'm sorry. i know when you're reading this it probably doesn't feel like the rest of this note is true, but it is. as each day passed i would've never thought that with you, i'd feel safe enough to be vulnerable, to share my fears, and to tell you how much i love you.

my love for you grew stronger, deeper, and more profound than i could have ever imagined. i'm sorry again that it had to be this way.

thank you for giving me your time and love, i'll always love you tara.

from y/n—"

"Heart." She finishes with a mumble, her gaze leaving the letter and then landing on you. She breaks down again, rubbing her fingers over your slightly cold face.

"I love you too, Y/N."

#reader insert #jenna ortega x reader #wattpad #jenna marie ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x reader #scream 6 #scream #scream x reader

447 notes · View notes

dilf-whore · 2 years

Text

my kind of girl (part 1)

pairing: billy hargrove x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers! , a little fluff (?), i’m not sure really, some mentions of bullying

summary: you grow closer and closer with the redhead you tutor... and maybe with her stepbrother too

A/N: i’m back! i’m sorry i was gone for so long so many shit has happen and i lost motivation to do stuff. i hope you guys like this series, i’ll be posting the next part soon. please do let me know if you want to be tagged to the next parts! 𓆩♡𓆪. send in you requests as well! also this is not proofread.

requested: no

requests are OPEN

masterlist

・°☆

“Hi! Y/N Y/L/N? is that right?” a redhead girl approached you, hugging her skateboard. You assume she’s a middle-schooler, seeing her wary eyes as she enter the high school campus. You nod.

She sighs in relief, her body relaxing a little. “I heard that you do tutoring? Are you still available to tutor another student?” she asks.

“Actually, I’m not teaching anyone as of the moment so I have all the time after school to tutor” You say.

“Oh that’s great! I’m Maxine Mayfield by the way, but please call me Max. Will you be free today after school? So you can coordinate with my parents? and hopefully start today” Max rambles, fidgeting the hem of her jacket.

“Sure!” you smile.

She pulls a crumpled piece of paper and a pen in the pocket of her bag. She lifts her knee and put his skateboard on top, writing her details.

Handing out the crumpled paper to you, “4819 Cherry Lane, I’ll see you at 6. You can eat dinner there”.

"Alright see you!” you say as your wave each other goodbye.

・°☆

You turn your car at the house with the number 4819, and see a blue camaro in front looks familiar you thought. You park beside the shiny car and made your way to the front door.

Dusting off your pants and making small fixes on your shirt. But before you could even knock on the door, a tall blonde man barged outside the door, startling you. You watched him approach his car in disbelief, didn’t even bother to apologize or even look at you.

As he opened the driver’s seat, you took a good look at him. It’s Billy Hargrove

“Hi! You must be Y/N? I’m Neil and sorry about my son. You know, just a little misunderstanding” A man, wearing glasses interrupted your thoughts.

“Oh y-yes that’s right” you reply.

“Please come in”

He leads you to the dining table, and there you see a woman, who looks like Max. And of course, Max who’s smiling excitedly at you. “Hi!” she waves at you.

You sat down beside Max, handing out to you the roasted chicken.

“So how much do you charge and what do you teach?” The woman asked.

“I charge $3 per hour, and I usually teach middle-schoolers and sometimes those in pre-school and elementary. I teach all subjects most of the time” you say.

“Wow that’s really impressive. We’re also good with your price, can you start today?” Neil asked.

“Yup!” you reply.

・°☆

Max brings you to her room and grabbed a spare chair for you.

“So you and Billy are siblings?” you wondered.

“Uhm no, he’s my stepbrother and an asshole” she replied, emphasizing the word stepbrother.

You nod as you take a seat beside her.

“Before we start, is it okay if they pay you like every end of the week? my mom and stepdad are usually gone, so yeah” Max asks as she look through notebook.

“Sure no problem” you reply.

・°☆

An hour and a half has passed, and you see 8:03 on the clock. You look at Max who just finished the activity you gave her on Physics. She gives you her paper, a little scared.

Giving a small pat on her shoulder you reassure, “don’t be nervous Max, you can do it. Besides I’m here to teach and guide you every step of the way”

After checking her work, you gave her a wide smile and a thumbs up.

“Good job! you only made three mistakes but that’s a huge improvement. I’m so proud of you” you cheer.

Max sits up straight, energy filling her body. She claps her hands excitedly like a little kid, “Oh my god! I did it! Thank you Y/N, you’re so smart”

“I told you you can do it! and there you have it the end of our first session! So, I’ll see you tomorrow? same time?” you ask.

“Yup, see you!” she reply.

You stand up and help Max tidy up her table. Piling up pieces of paper, picking up books and putting them inside the girl’s bag. You hear a loud roar of a car outside which startled the both of you.

“He’s back” Max says, rolling her eyes.

・°☆

You both go outside the room, and hear soft giggles. You and Max go further and see Billy with Carol, arm around her waist, entering the household.

You made eye contact with Carol who’s looking you up and down with disgust. i want to gauge this bitch’s eye out you thought. God how much you loathe Carol, boosting her self-esteem by making fun of other people, judging them as if she’s perfect. You were never really made fun or judged by her, (not until now) but you are aware of how poorly she treats other students in school.

“Who are you?” Billy asks annoyed.

“She’s Y/N, my tutor. And if you don’t mind, get out of the fucking way” Max replies, motioning the pair to move aside.

She grabs you by the shoulder and quickly bring you to your car. And you swear you felt eyes staring at you from behind as you go out.

Billy watches as the girls left the house, checking you out of course.

she’s pretty

“I’m so sorry about him, I assure you he won’t be around during our tutoring sessions”

“It’s okay Max, no need to apologize” you reassure.

You step in your car and bid your goodbyes.

Well that was something

・°☆

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove headcannons #stranger things headcannons #dacre montgomery

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thecapricunt1616 · 19 days

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Blue Lotus - SxC One-Shot

♡ O/S Inspo: Blue Lotus - In Vedic Hindu tradition, the lotus represents enlightenment as well as purity. It is the symbol of the consciousness rising out of the mud of Maya and attaining its original nature or self-realization.

♡ Summary: Carmen accidentally almost checks out of life permanently due to a migraine fucking up his vision, and Sugar flips & sends him off to a trauma rehabilitation center, Syd is realizing she finds it extremely hard to stay away from him.

♡ W/C: 7,616

♡ Posted Date: 04/06/2024

♡ A/N: This is my first SydCarmy fic aaa!!! I have a hard time writing in 3rd unless its not my characters, so writing in 3rd for them was okay! This OS is all thanks to the LOML - the person who FULLY turned me into a #SydCarmy4Lifer - @gingergofastboatsmojito - This fic was HEAVILY - heavily, inspired by hers - Tucson, It can be found right ❀ here ❀ - My only request is you go read hers if you are going to read this one!! Her SydCarmy fics are the best, and the only ones I really read, give her a follow because her SydCarmy theories are also out of this world. Also, YES GINGER - Stardust is .... a horse - ol' girl TOLD THEM she'd always be watching!! If you'd like to meet Madame in her human form, mosey on over here - this fic also heavily inspired me to write for SydCarmy hahaha. If y'all want more of Blue Lotus let me know! I have ideas for a PT 2 if it would fancy anyone :)

♡ Warnings for BTC: Accidental OD , Vomit, Sad Syd, but fluffy kinda!! Only lightly edited (we die like men), OC Carmy (IM SORRY) we all know he's down bad for her so maybe this can be considered IC Carm, because were just in his head more then watching him? But that's all basically.

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Carmen was sick as a dog. Well - physically- the mental demons never stopped nagging at his overall happiness level, but it had been a long time since he’d felt this horrible, physically speaking, at least.

His muscles were aching, to the point any brush on his skin left a dull pain in its wake. His throat was swollen and sore, he had a terrible fever- his head felt like it was so full of pressure that it would explode.

He’d never experienced a headache like this before. His vision was actually spotty, there were little blotches in his vision, that were... glowing? He wasn’t quite sure, it was beyond the realm of anything he’d ever felt or seen before.

That was what must have caused him to grab his black bottle of oxydose he’d gotten after a root canal he had a few months back- rather then his liquid Zyrtec cold and flu liquid medicine.

The pain in his head was so bad, he didn’t even question why the usual cherry flavor had been replaced with bubblegum, as he swallows straight from the bottle, before putting the cap back on and going back to the couch, collapsing in the nest of pillows and blankets.

It was only about 10 minutes, and Carmy was feeling fine- no…Carmen was feeling… amazing.

His limbs all felt very heavy, but he felt warm, and comfortable. As comfortable as he’d ever felt. He actually found himself thinking ‘have I ever felt this good?!’ And before he knew it, he was laughing to himself about how he should double dose cold medicine more often, because he felt as if he was on cloud fucking nine.

He laid back on the couch, closing his eyes, and wasn’t sure just how long he laid there that way. It could have been minutes, hours, days for all he knew. The only thing he was thinking of, was her. He began wondering what she was doing right now, if she was adorably leaned over the counter, writing in her little notebook- her braids cascaded over her face like a beautiful beaded curtain.

If the blood in his arms hadn’t been replaced with cement, he’d have grabbed his phone and called her, and poured out his entire heart to her. Because nothing else in the world right now mattered. Carmen had no other thoughts, the past didn’t exist, nor did the future. The only thing that existed in this world at this very moment, was Sydney.

‘Psssst’

Carmen opens his heavy lids, just barely, his vision was blurry and almost doubled. “Mmm?” He hums, not even sure if he heard someone- or why he would hear someone. He lived alone, and didn’t hear anyone come in.

‘Yo. Dipshit.’ Carmen knew that voice anywhere.

“What?” Carmy looked around, and knew something was very amiss, when his brother was standing there in his living room, looking at him. He had this ethereal glow to him.

“What the fuck” Carmen said, sitting back on the couch, rubbing his eyes.

‘You’re nodding out right now. Here’s what y’gonna do.’

Carmen couldn’t do anything but nod his head obediently, was Mikey really here? He couldn’t be- he was hallucinating.

“Monkey are you here?” Carmen asks softly, rubbing his eyes again to see if he would disappear. He didn’t.

‘I’m as here as you’ll be if Y’don’t listen. Crawl to the fucking bathroom and throw up. She’s gonna be here f’you, don’t fight her’

Before Carmy could look back at him and question what he meant - he was gone.

Carmen suddenly felt…much too hot. He tried getting up, but narrowly missed bashing his skull on the coffee table trying to get to the bathroom, so he decided to take his wise older brother's advice and crawl there instead.

He didn’t finish the journey, though. He actually collapsed in the bathroom a few feet in front of the toilet, luckily on his stomach.

He was catching all sorts of luck today, because Syd had insisted she go and check on Carmy, as he was supposed to be at work today but hadn’t said a word- and that was nothing like him.

She got the extra key from Nat, and told her she would go check because ‘Pregnant women have by nature weaker immune systems’ and would blame herself if she ‘let Carmen get her sick’, so she convinced Sugar to let her go by herself.

When Sydney had opened the door, the first thing that greeted her was loads of empty Gatorade bottles on the coffee table near the couch, and a random French cooking show playing on the tv.

“Carm?” She calls, but when she saw one of his feet sticking out from the bathroom, she dropped her bag and ran, gasping when she saw him splayed out there in a puddle of vomit, looking sickly pale, with dark blue lips and fingertips.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO YOURSELF!” She shrieked, getting him on his side as fast as she could and quickly pushing the emergency button on her phone, putting the call on speaker and setting it to the bathroom counter.

“Carmen? CARMEN! Wake up!” She slapped his arm, shaking him violently. “Carmen! Oh- oh god.” She said nervously.

‘911 do you need fire, medical, or police?’ The woman at the other end says.

“Medical! Medical my friend- oh god Carmen” she shakes his shoulders.

“Okay what’s your emergency?” The operator asks

“Uhh- I- he’s- so he’s thrown up, he’s passed out, his pulse is weak- he- his lips- t-they’re blue. oh Carmy” she touches his cold clammy forehead. “He- he’s- he’s cold oh my god why is he COLD can you fucking send someone Jesus Christ!” Sydney snaps angrily.

“Okay- it sounds like he is having an opioid crisis ma’am, do you have narcan available?” The operator asked her and Syds heart drops.

“No- what? No! He- he wouldn’t- his brother- he…get here!” She said frantically and quickly told her the address of Carmen’s apartment complex.

“Yes, yes you’re calling on an Iphone, ma’am - we have your exact coordinates. Just in case - do not try to make him throw up more, make sure his airway is clear- what is your name?” The woman asked her.

“Sydney- my name is fucking Sydney - but it doesn’t matter! He matters! My god! His name is Carmen- C-Carmen fucking Berzatto! Put that in your notes lady! He- he’s 31- where the fuck is the ambulance?!” She uses all of her strength to get him leaned up against the counter.

His vomit was getting everywhere, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t find a way to care, the only thing that mattered to her was that each breath Carmy was taking looked more and more difficult.

“They are en route! Remain calm, how long have you known this friend?” The Operator tried to distract Sydney, since there was only so much you could do for an OD patient if there was no narcan.

“He- he’s my…my partner we run a restaurant together. This doesn’t matter! Save him. Please! I can’t loose him!” She said, shaking his shoulders.

“Carmen! You fucking asshole! What did you do!!!” She shouts at him. “You would never do this! What did you do!!!” She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, it didn’t matter though- Carmen wasn’t awake to see it.

No, Carmen was far, far away. Somewhere floating between life and death, he felt like he was being embraced in the warmest most comforting hug he’d ever felt, he’d never been more comfortable in his life.

But Syd, was in hell. Her own personal version of it. It felt like a lifetime before 2 paramedics came barreling into the bathroom, one of them holds Carmys head steady and the other sprays a full dosage of narcan in his nose.

Sydney stood in the corner near the shower, shaking hands cupping her face absolutely terrified.

Carmen was up now, nearly the second the paramedic hit the plunger release. He sits up with a gasp, eyes wide like a caged animal.

“What the fuck.” He mumbles, looking at both of them before meeting eyes with Syd.

“Syd?” He blinks a few times.

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding “you asshole” she grumbles, wiping her teary eyes.

“You’re home, you’re safe, you overdosed. Do you take opioids often?” The paramedic asked, putting a blood pressure cuff around Carmen’s arm.

“What? No- what the fuck don’t touch me!” Carmen snaps, ripping off the cuff and whipping it across the bathroom “stop- stop! Stop touching me- get away” he shouted angrily “I’m fine” he hissed.

“CARMEN!” Sydney barks, she’d never used that tone with him- so it was fair to say it very quickly got his attention.

“You will let them do their job, dick. I just- I- I find you in a puddle of your own vomit on the bathroom floor- I couldn’t wake you up! So now? you’re gonna listen to them.” She said angrily, grabbing the blood pressure cuff from next to her leg where it fell and handing it back to the paramedic.

“Give him your arm.” She snipped.

Carmen sits back against the bathroom wall like a dog being scolded, wordlessly offering his arm to the paramedic and keeping his gaze fixed on his lap.

“192 over 96” the paramedic told the other.

“Christ kid” the paramedic said, “gave you a fuckin dose of narcan and y’wired like y’re on coke” they helped him up and on the gurney.

“Hes- he’s gonna be okay?” Sydney asked anxiously, watching as they buckled him in by his hips and legs.

“He's gonna be fine in a day or so.” One of them responded. Carmen just looked away, the shame and embarrassment already looming over his mind like a huge storm cloud.

“I’m gonna…I’ll- I’ll clean up, and meet you at the hospital, ok? And I’ll have sugar meet you” she told Carmen and went over, giving him a hug.

He couldn’t understand. It made him slightly angry how sweet she was being to him. He was putting her out, he was fully fucking up her whole day- but all she was worried about was him.

“Syd..I’m fine. Thanks. But I’m fine. Don't- just…ugh no- please- I’ll do it. Just go- go home. take the day” He said, gently patting her back.

He wanted to throw his arms around her and never let go, he wanted to kiss her- he wanted to hold her and tell her he would never leave her again. He wanted to tell her he loved her.

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would, or could for that matter, since he didn’t even realize yet that was what the feeling in his heart really meant.

“Thank god. Thank god you’re fine, Carm. What would I do without the biggest pain in my ass?” She teased.

Even though Carmen was hurting all over in a way he didn’t realize was possible, his lungs were aching, as was his entire body, and he felt as if the pressure behind his eyes were going to make them pop out - he smiled. It was slight, of course. But it was there.

“Couldn’t get rid’a’me if y’tried, Syd.” he told her.

The ride to the hospital was Carmen’s nightmare. They insisted on the stupid flashing lights and sirens, since his blood pressure was ‘dangerously high’ so he was at risk for a heart attack, and then rolling him out on a stretcher in front of all his neighbors was nothing short of a god damn dumpster fire.

He was never home, but like hell he’d ever intentionally show his face during the day again.

The hospital was even worse, he got plugged in to all these monitors and had an oxygen mask, got poked and prodded with needles, and was told he was being put on a 24 hour psych hold per hospital policy after an overdose- just in case he’d been trying to end his own life.

Sugar got there shortly after the nurses had finally let him be, when he heard her loudly telling them “CARMEN! BERZATTO! Like bear! B-e-r-z-a-t-t-o!!! Where IS HE !” He ripped off the oxygen mask, knowing if she saw him that way he’d never live it down.

Even though it really was helping ease the ache in his lungs and the pain in his head, he was willing to deal with it for his very pregnant sister not to worry.

Her heels click as she storms down the hall to his room, ripping the curtain back.

“Oh- Bear” she said, bursting into tears and rushing up to him, hugging him tightly. “Oh my god, bear. Never do that! What did you do? No- no- you aren’t in trouble, you aren’t in trouble, Carmen. I love you. You just worried me! You made Sydney cry Carmy! What the fuck- what happened?” She cupped his cheeks, observing his exhausted face.

“Oh you’re sick- you’re so sick- Carmy” she felt his forehead and cheeks with the back of her hand like she did when they were kids. “It was an accident, right, right Bear? You wouldn’t do this?” She said, more pleading him than asking.

“No. No. No sug, no- I- I’d never. I just fucked up! I’m fine. I’m fine. C’mere” he hugs her close, kissing her head gently. “Stress isn’t good for the baby bear” he joked, hoping it would get her to lighten up.

“Carmy stop” she pushed away, looking at him seriously. “No. No. This isn’t okay- nothing - nothing about this is okay, bear! You almost died! Syd said- “ she shook her head. “Carmy. I- we can’t do this. We can’t. You’re right.” She sniffled, sitting back in the chair next to his hospital bed and wiping her tears.

“What- what do you mean?” He sat up a bit.

“I- if you….i can’t watch you like this anymore, Carmy. I can’t- I can’t see you wither away. Fucking emotionally anymore. It’s killing me. It’s hurting-“ she took a shaking breath.

“It’s hurting your niece. Carmen. I can’t do it anymore. here.” She dug around her purse, pulling out a brochure.

“Go- go. Get out of fucking Chicago, Carm. This place- I-i heard of it” she sniffled “its stupid-“ she laughed a bit, shaking her head. “So stupid, fuckin this..this Astrologer. She said in her podcast that this is the best place to go based on the location? I dunno…it’s a therapy place” she said.

Carmen looked at the Brochure, his brows raising.

‘Blue Lotus Trauma Therapy Rehabilitation Center’ the front contained photos of absolutely breathtaking pine trees, mountains, as well as red cabins.

‘Blue Lotus is tucked safely away on Big Bear Lake in Big Bear, CA. Come and experience an inpatient by day, outpatient by night 30 day program, along with 15 days of sole inpatient TF-CBT therapy, focused on your direct needs as a patient. We specialize here at Big Bear in Equestrian Therapy, and Cattle Therapy. Enjoy hiking on hundreds of miles of breathtaking trails, and get to know the stunning haven that is Big Bear, California.’

“Horses.” Carmen looks at her, unwavered.

“Yes! They say they like- get us or something? You’ll be back before I give birth. Go. Carmen. Go. Or- or I can’t work there, anymore it-“ she shakes her head, looking down at her swollen belly as hot thick tears stream down her cheeks. “It’s like watching Michael…again. In a different way” she said quietly, wiping her face and looking up at him once again. “Please.” She whispered.

He shook his head, setting the stupid brochure down on the bedside table and laying back in the bed, grabbing the oxygen since his head was beginning to pound again and putting it back over his face, averting her worried gaze.

“I don’t have the energy to call these people” he muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head back, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

“I- I already got you a bed. I called them…on the way over- I begged them. And they are willing to take you, Carmy. Please. I’ll pick your cabin and everything - you- you stay in a cabin after the 15 days and then for 30 you go back and forth. It sounds so nice, bear. I know they’re gonna take such good care of you think about it- please- will you go?” she got up, pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you” she whispered after a few moments when he didn’t decline her.

Carmen didn’t reply. If Sugar really thought that stupid place would make him ‘change’ (if that was even possible) and if she really felt as if it was affecting her child that was growing inside of her- he would give it a try. Even though he felt as if it would be just another money pit in the name of ‘mental health’ that didn’t do a thing.

“There’s dead man walkin’!” Richie said, Syd following in behind him.

“Stop! Don’t call him that Richie it was scary!” Syd shoves his shoulder.

Carmen grabbed the brochure, quickly tucking it under the blanket.

“Fuck you, cousin” Carmy said, his voice all nasally and low from his flu or whatever the fuck he’d picked up, that had led him to giving himself a cocktail of meds that almost sent him to Michael prematurely by total mistake.

“Carmen is leaving. As soon as he’s released. So- get your time in he won’t be home for a month or two” Sugar said and sat down, not budging on the issue.

Carm just rolled his eyes, laying his head back and wanting to melt into a puddle on the floor, but at the same time, he also wanted to pull Syd into the stupidly small hospital bed, and hold her to him, never letting her go.

“You are?” Syd asked, coming to his bedside and meeting his gaze.

He just stared at her. Wordlessly, he pulled out the crumpled brochure and offered it to her. She took it, looking at it. Richie comes over as well, peeking over Syd’s shoulder to read.

“Equestrian therapy? Gonna go play with some horsies Carm?” He teased, his smugness being wiped off his face when Syd stomps on his foot with most of her weight, causing him to whine in pain.

“Woops! Maybe you should learn some personal fucking space asshole” she shoved back in to him so he would take a few steps back.

“Ow!” He said dramatically, plopping next to Sugar who was also glaring at him with equal fire.

“Okay- okay- sorry fuckin hell. The kid is fine” he said and Carmen motions to him.

“See! See! Jagoff is right sometimes” he said to Syd and she shook her head.

“This…is good. This is really good. I’m for this.” She said, looking at Sugar before handing the brochure back to him. “I’m… gonna miss you, but…you need to get the fuck out. Like really, out, Carm.” She told him.

He sighed deeply, resting his head back and closing his eyes once more.

Whatever will make Syd happy, he would do, no matter the amount of discomfort it brought him.

“Fine.” He mumbled.

“Really?” Sugar asked him and he looked over at her, brows slightly furrowed.

“Want me to fuckin fight you about it?” He snipped, already annoyed with how easy he was giving in- but he was too exhausted to fight, and Syds lavender perfume was so comforting, and so familiar. He just wanted everyone except Syd to leave, and to be able to hold her.

That wasn’t going to happen though, probably ever was what he’d told himself. No, that would be too good, the universe would be much too kind to Carmy as to let him have the ultimate pleasure and enjoyment that would come from being with her in that way.

“No…no. I’m sorry. Thank you, Bear. I know this is gonna be good” Sugar said quietly.

The doctor came in, saving Carmen from the uncomfortable conversation. “Hello again, Mr.Berzatto. I have your results here- is this okay company? If not I can have them step out for a moment” she’d said.

Carmen had already completely forgotten her name, her name to him was simple - not Claire. Which was the only good thing to happen to him today.

“As long as I’m not dying cause these two will pitch a fit. You can go ahead” he said, sitting up slightly in the bed.

“No, no. you are very healthy, well- for the most part. Does your family have a history of high blood pressure?” She asked, sitting in the rolling chair next to the bed and holding her tablet in her lap.

“Dad. Dad did, bear.” Sugar said.

“Oh! Lovely- and did dad also have chronic treatment resistant depression?” The doctor turns to her.

“I- I don’t know but…I know he was depressed for sure.” Sugar replied honestly.

“And I know per your file you’re a smoker, heavy or moderate?” The doctor asked

“Heavy” Syd buts in and Carmen didn’t even have the energy to fight either of the women.

“So heavy is a pack plus a day does that sound average?” The doctor asked Carmy and he nods a bit.

“Sometimes…sometimes two. Depending on uh…how shit is” he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, so we’re gonna need to reduce as much as we possibly can. And we’re also going to speak about treatment options. Have you ever done mental therapy?” She asked Carmen.

“He’s getting help. Don’t worry” Sugar said, “he’s going to do a therapy program. Blue lotus? Heard of it?” She asked.

The doctor nods with a slight smile. “That would be wonderful for you, by the looks of your chart.” She got up.

“Visiting hours are over at 10 pm, he will need to remain here until at least 1 pm tomorrow afternoon- then he’s yours.” She headed towards the door, shutting the privacy curtain behind her before closing the door.

Richie chuckled “hack job name” he muttered, rubbing his face tiredly.

“What was her name?” Sugar looked over at him.

“Doctor Ginseng?” He said, “isn’t that a- a fuckin-“

“A root. A very expensive, luxurious root. It can be put into tea, or soup…the native people of China believe it has properties that make your body better deal with stress” Syd said absentmindedly, staring at the clock while nervously twirling the end of one of her braids.

“She got it” Carm said and the corners of his lips tugged into a smile, just a bit. He absolutely adored the way if Syd wasn’t beating him to the punch when someone asked a random food question- that she was teaching him something.

Even after years in the kitchen, the hundreds of hours watching cooking shows, Sydney still managed to teach him. He was utterly amazed by her every single day.

“That’s a good idea. I- I think we have some. Back at the restaurant. All the stuff here will be shit- I’m gonna make you tea. And soup.” she got up, grabbing her bag. “Don’t fucking die when I’m gone, Kay? Guess you need that reminder now” she told him.

He rolled his eyes slightly “Y’don’t have t’fuckin make me tea Syd. I’m fine.” He said, but something deep inside him yearned for Syd to take care of him. He craved it.

“I’m making the tea, and you’re drinking the tea. Be back soon” she said before heading out.

Sydney had stuffed Carm full of pastina chicken soup and warm ginseng tea with lemon, ginger root, and plenty of local honey. As well as sourdough bread that Marcus had made fresh that morning.

They sat and talked, just the two of them for hours until visiting hours were over. The nurse had to actually warn them both that she’d told them 4 times already it was past visiting hours and she ‘wasn’t afraid to have people removed’ before Sydney finally hugged Carmy goodbye and left.

They both took his leaving for 45 days extremely serious. They’d joked together about just how quickly and casually Sugar had whipped out the information, all put together so neatly - it was quite obvious she’d been waiting for an opportunity to ship Carmen off here.

They laughed a bit, and shared stories, and of course Carm answered any and every question Syd had about running the restaurant on her own while he was going to be away.

Syd had even pulled a chair up to the bed at one point, resting her legs across the mattress after taking her shoes off, and her legs were draped across his own. He didn’t dare say anything, though. He was relishing in the feeling of closeness with her, even if it was as close as they’d ever be.

Syd had actually made him so excited that the nurse had come in when she first came back and Carmy realized they’d be alone, to realize he was perfectly fine- his heart had just settled at a new pace since she was around.

He was feeling worlds better by the time he’d gotten to the airport on Sunday morning. He’d spent the rest of Saturday evening at Sugars after he’d been discharged from the hospital, and had one last close family meal with Syd, Richie, Nat, and Pete, well, Pete was a must - he couldn’t uninvite the man from his own house, unfortunately.

Carmen would be in a hotel in Big Bear, California by nightfall, and by the following morning he’d be starting his 15 day inpatient stint at ‘Blue Lotus Trauma Therapy Rehabilitation Center’ tucked away on a farm, in a dip of Big Bear Lake. How fitting.

The parking lot of the airport was full of tears, not from Carmy- of course, but a very tearful Sugar, who’d conveniently spent the rest of his hospital stay packing him 2 weeks of clothes to cycle through, explaining phones were allowed- but they gave the toiletries, since it was a mental health center after all.

She kept hugging him, kissing his cheeks- as if she was sending him to war and not a fucking treatment center. “Is there…somethin’ I’m missing- am I never coming back er somethin are you selling me to some weird chef collector?” Carmen teased, getting at least a small giggle from her.

“God no. I just… this will work Carmy. It has to work. You’ll get better, okay? It’ll all be fine.” She wiped her face. He nodded a bit.

“It’ll work.” He said, he wasn’t sure if he believed it- but if it got her to stop feeling so sad, he would agree.

“I love you, be safe ok?” She said for the millionth time “and remember look at your phone I sent you-“

“The flight number, Nat. I love you. Thank you again” he kissed her cheek, grabbing his suitcase and opening his texts, clicking his flight number she sent him.

“Gate D11! Thank you Nat. Gotta go now- unless…” he teased.

She smiled a bit, finally. “Get out of Chicago.” She pat his arm gently and got back in the car to a waiting Pete.

The flight was okay, it felt much longer than he was expecting, but his anxiety told him a lot of things- he couldn’t trust minute things such as time and how he understands it anymore. The first thing he noticed upon landing was the stunning green, and the crisp air.

The air felt…cleaner, then Chicago. It was chilly- since fall was quickly approaching. Carmen was suddenly grateful Nat had him put on a hoodie before leaving this afternoon. He had the entire evening to explore, and not be himself.

He already was feeling some kind of new. He wasn’t here to work, definitely not to play, but he could enjoy himself, because he didn’t have to be him. At least not for the night. He opened the Uber app on his phone, booking a trip to the hotel to check in.

When he’d gotten to the hotel and showered, dressing in some vintage Levi’s and a white long sleeve in trade for his short sleeve, along with his favorite plaid jacket. He had to get somewhere to see how people live here, how to be apart here, so he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb at this rehab place.

He’d grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders and opened Apple Maps on his phone, looking for a park to go sit at and just be. He found a park close by, simply called ‘BearHill Park’ and following the walking directions.

He’d missed his ventures to various parks in New York, but especially in Copenhagen. Copenhagen had the most beautiful sunsets Carmen had ever seen before. He missed it sometimes, not the work, but the life. It felt worlds more simple then his life now, where every relationship, every aspect of his job- was dripping with difficulty to manage it all.

When he got to the park, he’d found an oak tree that looked well over 200 years old, getting situated under it and resting against the trunk, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

He watched a couple and a baby walking by, carefully though as he’d learned quickly as a child most people don’t take kindly to being looked at for more then a few moments at a time. But Carmen didn’t watch people in an odd way, of course. He was just wanting to observe, see how he should be. And in a place so new, so out of his ordinary all by himself, it was gonna take a lot of observing to get himself readjusted.

He watched as the father pushed the carriage along, the mother holding his hand happily. They were far away so he couldn’t hear what they were speaking about, but it must be funny because their heads were tilted back in laughter multiple points throughout the conversation as they continued on.

He continued on his cigarette, his eyes now finding a younger couple. He sat up a bit, leaning further against the tree to get a better look. From behind, the woman reminded him a lot of Syd, of course it wasn’t- but it was also the way her boyfriend or- husband- Carmen wasn’t emotionally advanced enough to look for a ring, he’d never needed to before.

It was how his arms were covered in tattoos, and his hair was a muss of dirty blonde curls like his. It was how the woman was beautifully tall, with stunning long black braids, and a floral scarf tied around the top of her head. She was much more…boisterous then Syd, but none the less. They looked like them in another world.

So not only, has this other man, found his Syd, the universe was determined to rub Carmen’s nose in it, or that’s how he took it, anyhow.

He scoffed a bit, rolling his eyes and looking the other way. Of course. He thought. Everyone can be happy but me. I’m headed to adult crazy camp! And those two are just, fuckin happy and in love.

The girl laughed loudly, causing Carmen to look back over. “CAMREN!” She squeaked as he tickled her. “Cam! Stop- I-I can’t breathe!! You asshole” she punched his shoulder playfully.

“Do you give up?! Say it!!!” The man countered, continuing the assault on her sides.

“No- NO! This- this is cheating!” She said, interrupted by her own laughs.

“Cheating?! No, I'm getting what’s rightfully mine Scarlett!” He pinned her arms above her head.

Carmen now looked away. He couldn’t help but think of Syd while watching them, and think of everything he was too pussy to pull off. He wished he could take Syd somewhere like this, but who would run the restaurant, and why would she say yes.

He’d finished his cigarette by the time the couple had left and he took out his sketchbook and the pen that lived inside of it. He looked at the recipe on his phone Syd had sent ‘Farro Mafaldine with browned Black Truffle Butter and Chanterelles mushrooms’

He had tried it for her, and he actually told her he wanted another bite to be sure he was ‘getting everything’ when really- it was just so fantastic he couldn’t stop at one single bite.

“Syd that is…wow. Really, really fuckin fire. If it weren’t for the mushroom, we’d need that on the permanent menu. Have you tried others?” He’d asked.

Syd just smiled and nodded, a lot of times she was around Carmen- she thanked god for her darker complexion, considering he made her feel overly hot, all the time. Nearly every time he spoke to her, and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t always this way. But ever since they opened the restaurant together- things had changed between them. Not for better, not for worse, the energy just… shifted.

Carmen got lost in thought of Syd, and before he could realize what he was doing- he was drawing her. He rested his elbow on his knee, crouched over as he added details to each intricate little braid. It was one of Carmen’s favorite things about Sydney.

No matter how she wore her hair, she looked absolutely beautiful. The braids, he did have to admit, were his favorite. Maybe it was because it was how her hair was when they met, but they interested him. He wanted to sit and watch her doing them. She told him a while back, she did them herself.

Apparently, her mother wasn’t able to teach her- but she had cousins that could. She says it was usually much more expensive to have it done then just do it yourself, that part made sense to him. He was really impressed the first time he told her, she laughed a bit at that.

‘Most of us do our own hair, I mean- unless you got it like that. But otherwise, just like the white girls we have to do it on our own’ Carmen blushed, feeling silly for not realizing.

‘Yeah- yeah I..I get that but. I dunno…I’ve seen Sug do her hair…it seems easier” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

‘Oh, well yeah, that’s why I only do mine every 6 weeks!’ She’d said, wiping down the counter.

‘Really? Well that’s cool. I thought you like…I dunno.’ He chuckled a bit.

‘That I went home, took out 200 plus braids, and then put them all back in before I come in every day?’ She teased.

Now Carmen’s cheeks were bright red. ‘Okay- listen I’m not a girl. I wouldn’t know’

Carmen caught himself smiling at the memory. He looked up at the setting sky, and his heart fluttered a bit at the beauty of it. He’d realized he’d sat there now for probably 5 hours, his back was aching, but he didn’t care.

He didn’t care because this was the most at peace he’d felt since moving back to the states. And he was alone. He snapped a photo of the gorgeous sunset with his phone, hitting the send button and hovering over Syds name for a moment, before deciding to click it.

She did tell him to text her when she got settled in after all.

In CA - this place lives up to the name. Never seen so many bear statues in my life.

He sends the text, with the photo attached, not even realizing the photo had been a live capture, and you could fully see the drawing of Syd for half a second if you held the photo down.

He put his phone back in his pocket, continuing on his drawing. Back in Chicago, Syd was very glad that she was working today- because the only thing on her mind otherwise was one single person.

“Okay guys! I need some hands here- we got 3 dishes for table 13 let’s move! Keep up the pace!” She called out. She had already been here 12 hours, and wasn’t planning on being out for another 6.

It was just how Sydney operated - she couldn’t sit and worry about Carmen. It would just unearth emotions she didn’t want to go searching for, and once they came up she was worried it would ruin absolutely everything she’d worked so hard to maintain.

And back across the country, 2,000 miles away, Carmen was contently packing his backpack, getting up, and heading to a small diner he’d seen. He enjoyed a quiet burger to himself, in the corner booth, looking out the window at the water.

The place truly was beautiful, and very hidden away. There were barely any cars here, it was fully the opposite of anywhere he’d stayed long term, and he was beginning to feel as if he needed that, he wouldn’t admit that to sugar, though.

He’d gone back to his hotel, taken a shower, gotten in his pajamas, and was laid in bed, watching some random cooking show on the food network since the TV unfortunately didn’t have YouTube like his did.

When Sydney had seen the photo, she almost didn’t realize it was live at first. She was also at home, finally in bed- but she was 2 hours ahead of Carmen- so instead of it being 11 pm- it was 1 am. She’d scrubbed the restaurant floor until she was sure someone could eat off it, and made sure every station was in perfect condition before returning home.

She laid in bed with sore hands, a sore back, and sore knees, and sore- well, everything. When she finally had checked her phone and seen it. She smiled a bit at the comment about the bear statues, clicking the photo open to see more.

It was a breathtaking sunset for sure. She went to close the photo, her thumb lingering because she saw a speck of white in the corner- and the photo started moving. For just a short moment she sees…. Herself? On the page of Carmen’s sketchbook.

She could feel her heart thumping in her throat. Why would he be drawing her? Unless- no! Keep the emotions buried! He is sick. He is so depressed- treatment resistant depression the doctor had said his chart showed.

She swallowed thickly, not sure what to say back. Should she just ignore it? Should she mention it boldly? Should she just…forget about it and convince herself it didn’t happen?

She typed and retyped the message multiple times, smiling to herself a bit as she jokingly typed out ‘pretty sunset, even prettier drawing.’ Before deleting it and retyping before hitting send;

fire sunset. so I take it big bear is treating the bear well so far?

Carmen looked at the message right away, smiling to himself a bit. She’d never called him bear before, something about it made his heart begin to race.

According to Nat, bear+big bear = depression gone, I’ll let you know in a few days if that's the truth.

He wasn’t sure about the whole equestrian therapy thing still, but he did know that being here seemed to allow him to breathe a little easier- and he was already here, so he would try.

The first 5 days in the inpatient program were…quite the adjustment. That was because it was what he learned was the most intensive part of the treatment, and meant to break down your walls by setting you in a hard routine so you had no choice but to think about your shit.

This included a wake-up time of 6 am, the lights in his inpatient room literally turned on, then at 7:30 was breakfast, then- at 8 am they had 1 hour of either equestrian class, which you learned how to begin caring for the horses, or an hour of tending to the cows - Carmen chose the Horses because he was not going to shovel cow shit.

Then, you had a therapy class of your choice from 9-11:30, he chose art therapy. It didn’t feel like therapy to him, they got to draw, or paint. Carmen just sat by the window, drawing different recipes - or, more often than not, drawing Syd from memory.

12:00 was lunch, 12:30-2:00 you had mandatory either equestrian therapy, or cattle therapy. Carmen was more drawn towards the cattle on hard days, and the horses on easier ones. This was because the hour of 3-4 was mandatory group therapy. That usually emotionally drained him until at least art therapy the following day, since to progress and complete the program- you need ‘participation points’ in your 15 day inpatient stay, before you’re trusted to be on your almost fully on your own for a whole 30 days.

The horses were usually nervous around new people, so it was a challange to get them to trust him. While the cows, people in the group joked- were ‘giant grass puppies’ the therapy consisted of literally just laying with the lazy cows and cuddling them, and feeding them snacks, which they very much enjoyed, and Carmen found to be very soothing once he learned to douse himself in bug spray before heading in the pen so the flys would be out of his way.

Then, dinner was at 5, and afterwards you had the evening to yourself in your room, or you could walk the trails until they closed at sunset. In your room you could watch tv, read, and the residents were also allowed to have their cellphones.

It was quite exhausting the first 5 days, but the second 5 he was getting into a groove at Blue Lotus. He was beginning to enjoy the hard manual work that came with working with the animals, and the time it took to build their trust. There was one particular horse Carmen had become fond of, a white horse named Stardust. Perfect name for her.

When he looked in her eyes she felt more human then most people he met in real life. She was different then the other horses. He’d been told that she rarely took to men, and that he was the only male she’d never need startled by. He always took extra time brushing her mane, and they both seemed to appreciate eachothers silence.

Carmen heard other people in stalls next to him, they would talk to the horses- dump their issues they were too afraid to tell their therapists out on them. He wondered if the horses ever got annoyed, he probably would if he was a horse. He smiled a bit at the thought, and it was almost as if Stardust could tell what he was thinking, because she turned her head and looked at him before snorting almost in agreement and sticking her head back out of the stall.

Getting into outpatient life at lotus though, was as easy as falling into bed for Carmen. His inpatient stay, he made sure to take the time in the evenings to learn his favorite quiet trails, the ones less taken usually, so when he graduated to outpatient - he could take stardust for rides on his own.

It took them about 3 days to get to know each other in that regard, it was mostly Carmen’s fault though he realized, because when he’d get nervous he’d pull on her reigns in such a way that she thought he meant for her to go faster - when it was the opposite. But, Stardust was so, so patient with Carmen.

He made sure to sneak her extra apples with a small drizzle of honey in return, so she knew her patience with him always came with great reward.

Carmen had been gone for about a month now, he and Syd would text intermittently, sugar was sure to call once a week and they’d talk for about an hour. But it was mostly quiet from Carmen’s end, he had told them it was because he was usually out, all day long unless he was at therapy.

It was day 19 of the outpatient part of the program, so he had just 11 days left. He had just finished his morning art therapy, and was in the stables tending to stardust, feeding her slices of pumpkin they’d had in the snack bucket for the horses today. “Come onnn- the tongue, really star” he wipes his wet hand on his jeans and she nudged his shoulder with his nose, asking for more.

“You are greedy! I’m always the first one in here y’gotta leave some for the rest of these guys!” He grabbed another piece of pumpkin, feeding it to her.

“And this is our horse stable, he spends a lot of time out here” Carmen heard one of the employees likely giving someone a tour, only half listening.

Stardust snorts at him, nudging his chest and he rubs her neck gently. “What is it? Y’done? Pumpkin not good enough for ya? No honey apples until after our ride or Y’don’t listen missy” he pats her head gently.

“I didn’t take you for a horse guy but I guess drop anyone off in the middle of nowhere and you’d be surprised. 34 days and you went full fuckin’ cowboy on me- are those boots, Carm? ” An all too familiar voice said from the large open sliding door of the stable He looked at stardust for a moment, he must be dreaming, or ODing again. Maybe he died, and had been dead the entire time. Because there was no way he could believe Sydney Adamu was standing behind him, 2000 miles away from their shared city, in Big Bear, California.

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡♡♡ ⋙

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t0yac1d · 7 months

Text

Study Break (A.Arlert x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Smut, praise, PillowPrincess!Reader, grinding(?)

Notes: So like, school, am I right? Also my physics class is kicking my ass right about now. If you want to send in a request for Kinktober or literally anything else feel free to do so!

Word Count: 1,410

It's been hours, going over different problems that all use the same method, sitting in the same position, and staring at the same beautiful face.

It started when I asked Armin if he could help me with the physics work, using the excuse of it being too confusing to understand when in reality I didn't really need the help. Just seeing him in class with that white button up shirt and how he folds the sleeves up to his elbow. His black dress pants which were accompanied by a black leather belt. He looked so pretty just sitting in class, too pretty to not kiss or touch.

We sat on his bed, books and papers spread all over it. He sat near the headboard while I sat in front of him, on the opposite end. He looked so peaceful right now, his blue eyes fixed on a math problem, his pencil twirling in his hands. They were so pretty, soft and always cold. His fingers are thin and gentle to the touch.

No matter what I'm doing I always seem to find myself admiring him, mainly his hands, but he's just so nice to look at, if I could I'd watch him all day. "So what'd you get for number 14?" He asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Oh um, 3.1×10¹³ micrograms." I responded, quickly looking down at my notebook. He nodded and smiled, "Do you really need the help? You seem to be doing fine." I gave him a confused look, "You've gotten everything right and I noticed you haven't actually been writing anything."

"Oh, I just needed to make sure I had everything right.." I lied. He continued looking at me, studying me, "You want me here, but not for help. What is it?" I paused for a moment, thinking of what to say next.

"Exactly that. I want you here. For help." I said, leaning forward, sliding the books off of his bed. I look him in his eyes and glance at his lips, they're a light, soft shade of pink. Armin softly said "Oh" and smiled, he grabbed the side of my face and pulled me closer to his. I fully leaned in as well as Armin. His lips were soft and tasted like mint, it was a refreshing taste. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me on to him, my thighs on each side of his, and his hands squeezing my hips or anything he could grasp.

I slowly moved my hips against him, already feeling how hard he is through his pants and I've barely even done anything to him. I let out a gasp as I felt his hips move with mine, Armin took this opportunity to slide his tongue in. He explored my mouth and tilted his head to the side to reach more, pulling me impossibly closer to him as he did. I moved my hands up his body, I kept one on the center of his chest and the other trailed up his neck and to the back of it. I tangled my fingers in his hair and slightly pulled on it.

He moaned in response and broke the kiss. Looking up at me he leaned into my neck and began kissing it, lightly brushing his teeth against my skin. He let out a shaky breath as my hips moved slightly faster. In the blink of an eye I was under him, and even now he's still as pretty as he was before. His face flushed, his lips sore, his shirt a little ruffled.

"You're so pretty.." I mumbled to him, his already red face got darker than it was. "You too..look so pretty under me like this.." he smiled as he leaned down to kiss my neck, then my collarbone, and my chest, or at least what he could get. He stopped his movements and looked up at me, silently asking if he could remove my shirt, I nodded 'yes' and he did. Slowly, he pulled my shirt over my head and off of me, staring down at me he softly traced his fingers over every curve of my body.

He continued to stare in awe before leaning down and pressing a kiss to each of my breasts. Moving down he got closer and closer to where I needed him most. He looked up at me once again, asking for permission, I nodded again, this time a little more needy than intended. Slowly sliding my pants off and tossing them to who knows where he continued kissing near my aching pussy.

I never found Armin as a tease, especially with how he acts in school. He was always such a 'giving' person, never hesitant. But here he is kissing, biting and licking my inner thigh and continuously grazing his fingers over my clothed cunt. He moved back up, towards my underwear and hooked his fingers on the band, slowly sliding them down my legs and tossing them somewhere around his room.

His fingers were cold against my slit, making me gain goosebumps all over my body and the feeling. Slowly he pushed a finger in, curling it and pressing it against my walls before taking it out and bringing it to his lips. Sucking on his finger, I watched as his eyes rolled back and he let out a moan. "You taste so good, princess." He whispered before lowering his body.

He grabbed my legs and tossed them over his back and shoulders. He flattened his tongue and licked a stripe over my folds and slightly flicked my clit with the tip of his tongue. I let out a whimper at that feeling, Armin looked up at me and flicked my clit again, causing a more audible moan to escape my throat. He smiled and chuckled, going back down and lapping at my pussy.

At first glance you wouldn't think someone like Armin would be so good at giving head, eating you out like he hasn't eaten in days. But he was amazing at it, like he's had experience.

"Fuck..you're doing so good Armin.." I moaned, my fingers finding their way into his hair again, and tugging at the blonde locs. He hummed against me and continued lapping and sucking up all the juices. He slid a finger in and then two, thrusting them in and out of me as he came up and kissed me. I could taste myself on his tongue and I could feel how wet his chin is from how soaked I am.

"You taste so fucking good, don't you agree?" He asked while curling his fingers and pressing them against my walls. My pussy clenched around him at the feeling, "Yes..fuck..Armin"

He smiled at the sound of his name rolling off of my tongue so easily and naturally. "Do that again for me, beautiful. Let me hear that pretty voice, please." He pleaded. His fingers not stopping, not once as he went back down and started sucking on my clit and flicking it with his tongue.

My thighs clenched around his head as my stomach began to tighten. Armin pulled open my legs and kissed up my body and rubbed my clit with his thumb while his ring and middle fingers went to work. Burying his face in the crook of my neck as I became a whimpering and moaning mess in his ear. "Sound so good, baby. Such a pretty girl and a pretty voice.."

"I'm gonna cum, fuck.." I panted, "Go ahead, baby. You've been so good for me, you deserve it." He said, his fingers speeding up and my vision blurring from the tears that were about to spill at the sensation and the immense amount of pleasure I was feeling.

My legs tightened around him and his fing

ers kept moving, helping me ride out my high. My voice hoarse and my body sensitive to the touch. Armin pulled out his fingers causing me to let out a small whimper. He took a moment to look at them, gazing at his slender fingers coated with my cum. He brought them up to his lips and licked them clean. "Still taste just as good as when we started." He smiled.

"And you look just as good as the day I saw you in class." I sighed, standing up to find my clothes,

"If you ever need anymore 'help', give me a call, I'll gladly be at your service, beautiful."

#armin arlert smut #smut smut fic #kinktober #aot x reader #aot smut #aot armin #armin arlert #armin x reader #aot #armin smut #study break

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panda-writes-kpop · 6 months

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A/N: Happy Halloween!! I'm spending my day in classes and then doing homework afterward 🥲 but at least I'll get to dress up and be comfortable for one of my favorite holidays of the year! 💖

TW: Physical and emotional bullying, specifics about reader's talents and background are given, kinda sad but kinda happy(?)

Acknowledgments: Inspired by the Wednesday Netflix show (yes, I've been holding this fic for a WHILE it was too perfect for Halloween), and the following works by my friends inspired the universe and its characters: @kingmaker-a Ecdysis, You're A Keeper, and Logistics of a Cat; @foolish-sparrow Felix Votum; and @sanccharine mishaps gone right series, and @neon-city-dreams for being awesome <3

Summary: Your bad relationship with your peers causes you to come face-to-face with one of the most brilliant Ravenclaws, Dami. You're afraid that she's just as judgmental as the rest, but through time, she proves to be one of the most important people in your life.

♡ Masterlist ♡

"Hey, give it back!"

You tried reasoning with the young Slytherin members, but nothing worked. Perhaps being more strict would do the job?

The eldest boy sticks his tongue out at you as he tosses your art notebook to the shorter, younger boy.

"Let's see what kind of weird things the muggle writes in here."

You wince as he starts to flip through the book. After going through a few pages, he laughs before pointing at a drawing of yours.

"Wow, you really are obsessed with that Lee Dami girl, huh? You wouldn't mind if I told her that on your behalf, right?"

The youngest boy runs into the Great Hall as the oldest laughs like a wild maniac. You nervously bite your lip before running after the shortest boy.

"Yeah, go get 'em, squirt!" The eldest boy teases as your legs fail to carry you remotely close to the young boy.

He stops at the Ravenclaw table, right where Dami is seated. You try to, as calmly as you can after running what feels like an Olympic marathon, approach the table and remain calm.

"Hey, Dami, you wanna see something neat?"

You cringe as the boy hands her the notebook. She carefully handles the notebook before looking up at the boy.

"Is this yours? Why are you handing it to me?"

"No, it's theirs." The boy points over his shoulder at you, and you do your best to calmly wave as you try to tame the wild beast that is your rapidly beating heart.

"Then why do I have it?" Dami nonchalantly asks, and a few Ravenclaws around her giggle at the boy in front of you.

His ears turn red as he huffs and slightly turns toward you. You brace for impact as he storms towards you, but you're surprised when he puts on a brave smile and harshly wraps an arm around you.

"Tell her this is one big misunderstanding and that she can look through the notebook, alright," The boy loudly says before leaning closer to you, "otherwise I'll make the rest of your stay at Hogwarts a living hell."

You nervously laugh before slapping the boy's back as friendly as you can appear to be.

"Of course she can look through it!" You say through gritted teeth, and the boy shoots you a deadly glare before you push yourself away from him.

Dami looks at you for confirmation, and you feel your face heat up as you nod at her.

You start mentally planning your funeral as soon as Dami touches the cover. You might as well make plans to move to Africa, where no one knows who you are or what your face looks like.

Perhaps that wouldn't be the best idea since you weren't the most multilingual person, so America would be a better fit, right? You could send an owl to your parents, and they'd figure out the details for you! That'd be great because the Wizarding school there is just as good as Hogwarts, plus you'll never have to face Dami again after she ultimately rejects you because what reasonable person would want a loser like you who can't actually verbalize their feelings and instead draws them from every possible angle and OH MY GOD SHE THINKS YOU ARE A STALKER YOU NEED TO VACATE THE AREA IMMEDIATELY WHAT ARE YOU DOING-

"I-"

Dami pauses after she closes the back of the book. You say a prayer to as many deities and saints that you know as you hope that she'll reject you kindly and you can instead live out your days at Hogwarts in shame without having to move to another country.

She looks up at you before a prominent pink blush settles on her cheeks. She clears her throat before readjusting her glasses as your tormentor closes in on Dami.

"So, what did you think? That art is so stalker-ish and lame, right? You'd never want to be with someone like that, huh."

He triumphantly folds his arms as Dami's sweet, deep voice hits your ears.

"I think it's sweet."

"What?" The boy says in utter shock as his eyes are nearly about to widen past their capabilities.

"What?" You softly repeat as you feel lightheaded.

No, she was supposed to reject you and laugh at you, right? When was this a part of the horrid fantasy that you created 30 seconds ago?

More importantly, when did the room start spinning?

The last thing you remember was Dami calling out your name as you felt your body being tugged towards the floor.

Although your confession wasn’t anything like your dreams, it managed to land you in Dami’s favor, and now you’re on a date with the girl who you’ve been endlessly doodling in your notebook.

This moment, you decided, was one of two things.

Option A.) A cruel joke by the universe, in which one of your peers would jump out of a nearby bush with one of those muggle recording devices, and your life would return back to normalcy.

Or Option B.) You’re somehow dreaming still, and you probably need to see the headmistress because dozing off like this isn’t good for your health or your grades, and you know what your mother will say when your grades start to slip-

“Hey, are you alright? You’ve been staring off in the distance for a while…”

Dami calmly observes you as you nervously shift on the picnic blanket.

“I’m okay… I think.”

You mentally scold yourself before nervously playing with a strand of your hair. Dami sweetly laughs before placing a hand on your shoulder. That part of your body heats up, and your internal body temperature rises about 5 degrees as you feel yourself start to sweat.

What a pair the two of you were.

The brilliant scholar, the one who was a prodigy at everything she tried. The radiant Ravenclaw who managed to excel in every subject and charmed her peers and professors along the way.

And then there was you, the tortured artist. The mockery of your peers was a constant negative force in your life, and you always had your head in a sketchbook or notebook.

She was the strong sunshine, constant and unwavering, and you were a waning moon, ready to disappear to make room for something greater.

Yeah, this was definitely a pity date.

“Are you sure you’re feeling well-”

Dami’s ever-so-gentle with you, as if every last word would break your body like a glass figurine shattering when it hits the floor. You’re scared, sure, but you’re not that much of a wimp, right?

“Dami, I-” You pause to chew on your lip before gently reaching for her. “I really like you, and I’m scared of ruining this date because I think that you think that I’m a freak, just like everyone else does!”

You slap your hand over your mouth as Dami begins to rub your back. You bow your head in shame as you feel her free hand touch your extended hand.

“I don’t think you’re anything like the other kids say you are. That’s why I wanted to come out here with you. I want to find out who you truly are,” She offers you a warm smile as you dare to look up at her, “and if it makes any difference, I really like you too.”

“You do?” A sea of hopefulness floats into your voice as you tentatively smile.

“I do.”

Your eyes widen, and you let go of her hand before wrapping both arms around her. Dami looks startled for a moment before she laughs and wraps her arms around you.

Maybe this year would be different, just like your mother had said.

“Do you have the notes for Potions?”

“You weren’t paying attention?” Dami teasingly asks Lia before sorting through the books in her arms. “Color me surprised.”

“Don’t give me the third degree. Ryujin already did that.” Lia scoffs as Dami hands her a few sheets of paper from a book.

“Ryujin sleeps in class almost every day.”

“That’s what I said!” Lia exclaims before quickly looking at Dami’s notes. “My god, you really do take detailed notes.”

“I do my best work in class.” Dami shrugs before looking out at the courtyard. “Do you have Potions today?”

“Unfortunately, yes, but I-” Lia pauses when Dami sticks her arm out in front of both of them. “What is it?”

“Hold my things.” Dami hands her books to a skeptical Lia, who sends Dami a quizzical look until she looks out into the courtyard.

“Oh shit, that’s-”

“Uh-huh.” Dami pulls up her sleeves before grabbing her wand. “That’s why I’m going to interfere.”

“Before they hurt someone?”

“Before someone else jumps in.” Dami corrects as Lia’s eyes widen.

“Are you referring to SuA and Siyeon?”

“Who else would I be referring to?” Dami sighs before walking away. “Make sure nobody tries to jump in, alright? I need to handle this myself.”

“To prove that you’re a good girlfriend?” Lia jokes as Dami walks towards the scene in the courtyard.

“Funny, Lia.” Dami mumbles as she approaches the scene unfolding in front of her.

When you were younger, the teasing and bullying from your peers would bother you to no end. You’d sob in the arms of your friends and Dami every time they decided to mess with you.

Now? They were just an annoyance to you.

“Please give it back…” You hopelessly say as you watch two of your peers hold your books hostage ten feet in the air.

“And why would I do that?”

Because you’re not a total bitch?

“C’mon, don’t you have anything better to do?” Exasperated, you pull out your wand as they both chuckle.

“Oh, what are you gonna do, summon your Patronus?” One teases as the other laughs.

You bow your head in shame before putting your wand away.

“That’s what I thought, you pathetic waste of-”

“What are the two of you doing?”

Your head snaps up as you make eye contact with Dami.

Thank goodness!

“Dami!” One of the students squeaks out before running off, and the other slowly lowers your things towards the ground.

“You’re no fun.” They say before throwing your stuff on the ground.

Your eyes widen as you quickly gather your things from the ground.

“You’re sick!” Lia yells from the side as the other student rolls their eyes.

“We were just joking around, right?” They shoot daggers at you, and you shiver under their glare.

“Ahem.”

You pause as you hear heels click behind you.

“Headmistress BoA, I-”

“My office. Now.” She calmly says, and the student bows their head before walking away. “Oh, and if you track down your friend before I get back, I won’t make you clean out the Hippogriff cages.”

You dare to look at the student who’s walking much faster now, and you find yourself laughing as you gather your things and yourself off of the ground.

“Are you alright?” She gently asks before placing a hand on your back. “They gave you back all of your things, right?”

You swiftly look through your things before nodding.

“Thank you again, Headmistress.” You quietly say as Dami makes her way to your side. “Thanks for saving my ass… again.”

Dami wraps an arm around your shoulders to comfort you before leaning into you.

“I’d happily step in any time.”

Headmistress BoA gently smiles at the two of you before taking a step back.

“I’m glad you have someone like Dami looking out for you,” She says before waving Lia over, “and it seems that you’ve managed to charm quite a few other students as well.”

“Oh, I…” You bite your lip before staring at the ground. “I don’t think I’d call myself charming.”

“Dami would agree to disagree!” Lia teases, which causes Dami to blush, and you to laugh.

“Well, I will leave the three of you to your studies. If there’s anything I can do, please, don’t be afraid to-”

“Headmistress, you’ve already done so much for me…” You softly interrupt her before looking over to Dami. “for us. I don’t think I can thank you enough.”

After you and Dami were close and became ‘more than friends’, the torture that you experienced only multiplied. It went beyond verbal teasing and the occasional shove or someone stealing your notebooks.

It wouldn’t be a day at Hogwarts if you weren’t shoved into a wall and had your face shoved into your food. It got so bad that you ended up confessing to your mother, and when she confronted the Headmistress, they couldn’t find anyone who would talk about the bullying besides you.

You tried to take it on the chin, but after one particularly rough day, you broke down in tears and had enough of their teasing. You stopped reacting to their normal shenanigans, which encouraged them to go farther.

You were walking to The Great Hall while admiring the architecture. You had enjoyed your class, which was mostly because you didn’t have to use your wand all day. It wasn’t a secret that you weren’t the best spellcaster, but you could easily outbrew anyone in Potions and you knew what made the plants grow faster in Herbology.

You were happy because you were to see Dami, and your day was always better when you saw her. In your ignorant bliss, you had failed to notice the snickering students who were holding a pot of honey above your head with their wands.

You had opened the doors to The Great Hall, and everyone in the world seemed to be looking at you when your assailants launched their attacks.

You screamed when the honey fell onto you, and the force threw you to the ground. You managed to push yourself out of the way of the falling pot before it hit the ground.

All of the students outside of the hall were laughing at you, and from what you could see, a good amount of students were laughing in the dining hall.

You immediately started crying before getting up and running away from the dining hall. You didn’t care that you left your things behind, but it didn’t matter since they were probably ruined anyway.

You didn’t stop running until you had reached a bathroom far from the living quarters and The Great Hall. You closed the door, and you fell back against the nearest wall before burying your head in your arms.

A gentle knock at the door manages to disturb your pity party.

“Leave me alone…” You weakly mumble, and you curse yourself for being so weak, just as your peers had said.

“Are you in here?” Dami asks, and you sniffle before answering.

“You should’ve started with your name.” You say before managing to let out a broken chuckle. “The door’s unlocked.”

The door creaks when it is opened, and Dami files in before shutting it.

“My God…” She mumbles before grabbing a washcloth from beside the sink.

Dami puts the stopper in the sink, and she fills the sink with water before running the washcloth under the faucet.

She offers you the washcloth, and your shaking hand reaches out for it before you stop.

“Do you mind if you-”

“No, of course not.” Dami answers before shutting the faucet off.

She sits next to you with the washcloth in her hands.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” You softly say before lifting your head up.

Dami gently begins to rub the honey away by starting with your face. After she finishes with one side, she switches hands, and her right hands cleans your face as the other holds the clean part of your cheek.

“I’m so sorry that this happened to you…” Dami mutters as she gently strokes your cheek with her thumb. “How does this continue to happen?”

“I’m an easy target. I’m useless with my wand, I can’t fly on a broomstick, and I don’t know how to talk to people.” You exasperatedly say.

“But there’s so much that you can do. You’re brilliant with Potions and Herbology.” She compliments you before continuing on. “You’re creative, much more than I am, and you’re kind to everyone, even if they’re not kind to you back.”

“You see the good in everyone, Dami.” You lovingly look at her as she smiles.

“I see the good in you because everyone, including yourself,” She sternly says the last part, “refuses to. Someone has to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“You can, but it doesn’t hurt to rely on others.” Dami wistfully says before pulling her right hand away from your face “Let me clean the washcloth, and I’ll work on your arms, alright?”

“Okay.” You feel better as Dami stands and walks over to the sink.

You like the quiet bliss that is between the two of you. No one may understand why the brilliant scholar loves the tortured artist, but you’re starting to get it now.

Suddenly, the door slams open and you jump before curling up into yourself. Dami looks up from the sink before a sour look settles on her face.

“Headmistress BoA…”

“What is going on here?” She sternly says before glancing at you before looking back at Dami. “Did you… were you a part of this, Ms. Lee?”

“I didn’t do-”

“She was trying to help!” You exclaim before tears fall from your eyes. “Please don’t make her go.”

“Are you sure Ms. Lee wasn’t-”

“She wouldn’t hurt me!” You yell before quickly standing up.

You try to take a step forward, but your knees wobble and you fall on the ground.

“My love-” Dami immediately drops the washcloth in the water before placing a hand on your knee. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,” You shake your head before placing one of your hands on hers, “I’m alright.”

“Ah, I see what’s going on here.” A glint of mischief appears in the Headmistress’ eyes before she chuckles and smiles. “Clean up, change your clothes, and head to my office once you’re done. I’ll set dinner aside for both of you, and we can chat about finally putting an end to this mess.”

You smile at the Headmistress before looking over to Dami.

“That’d be great, Headmistress. Thank you.”

You grab the key from your coat pocket as you climb the stairs with Dami and Lia by your side.

“Ugh, do I have to go to Potions?” Lia complains before sighing. “I’d much rather go to Defense Against the Dark Arts again then do this shit-”

“I’d trade you.” You mumble.

“How bad was class today?”

“I made a fool of myself, as per usual.” You groan as you remember your classmates’ teasing. “Another failure I will never live down.”

“Don’t let those Slytherins bother you-”

“-They were Ravenclaws.” You correct Lia before she pauses mid-step.

“What?”

“Yeah, I know. A lot of the physical teasing comes from Slytherins and Gryffindors, but I can’t count the times I’ve been harassed by Ravenclaws.” You bite your lip before Dami sets a gentle hand on your back. “You think they’d be nicer considering I am a Ravenclaw.”

“Don’t listen to them. They’re judgemental.” Dami reassures you.

“Even you?”

“I’ve learned better from people like you.” Dami honestly says as you reach the fourth floor.

“Well, I’ve got to grab the textbook from our dorms. I’ll see you tonight for dinner,” Lia says to Dami before turning to you, “and I will have a hundred and one questions about Potions to ask you.”

“I’ll do my best to help.” You gently smile before waving Lia off as she continues to climb the stairs.

You loop arms with Dami as you lead her to a locked room, far from prying eyes.

“How was Herbology?” Dami pushes back a strand of your hair before you unlock the door.

“Professor Im says I have a lot of potential in the field. She wants me to start looking into higher level classes for next year. So, it was as per usual. What about you?”

“Potions was simplistic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, well, I-”

You open the door before gently nudging Dami.

“It’s okay, Dami, I know you’re good at it. You’re destined to be an Auror, I know.”

You mutter a soft ‘Lumos’, which sets the room alight with a soft glow.

“You’ve put up more art.” Dami notes as you set your books aside.

“What else do you think I do here?” You joke before grabbing your staple apron. “But I’m glad you noticed.”

“What are you going to work on?”

“Undecided… but maybe I just want to hang out with you.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

You let go of Dami’s arm before grabbing her waist. She smiles before wrapping her arms around your torso.

“I-I am sorry.” Dami mutters as you pull her close.

“For what? None of this is your fault, Dami.”

“I just wish I could’ve done… more.”

“Don’t say things like that-”

“You’re planning about going back to the muggle world permanently after you’ve finished your education at Hogwarts, right?”

Your eyes widen as you let go and back away from Dami.

“Did my mom tell you that?”

“Your dad, actually.” Dami pauses for a beat before grabbing your hand. “When were you going to tell me about the fact that you’re taking muggle classes and classes here? Is bullying the reason why you’re going back to the muggle world?”

“Yeah, it is,” You mumble softly before squeezing her hand, “but I didn’t want to say anything, I know you wanted to be an Auror, you’d be brilliant and the best at it.”

“Why the muggle classes, though?”

“I’m a half-blood. It was my mom’s dream for me to go to Hogwarts, just as she did, and my dad… he’s a professor at a well-known university, so he agreed with my mother as long as I kept up with my muggle work.” You sigh before shaking your head. “Was my dad worried about me?”

“He thought you were making the wrong choice.” Dami explains.

“My dad loves you, and he wants what he thinks is best for me.”

“I want you to stay.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do. As much as I want to be an Auror, I couldn’t imagine being there without you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say…” You trail off. “But I don’t belong here. You know that, as do many of our peers.”

“They might not think you belong, but you’ll always belong with me.” Dami pulls you close before you rest your head on her frame. “At least think about it, my love. That’s all I can ask from you.”

“I will, dear, I promise.” You peck her cheek before grabbing a paint brush. “You can go back to the dorms and work in peace if you’d like. I’m going to play some music and-”

“-I’d much rather stay with you.”

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mrcleanheichou · 1 year

Text

Wolves are (NOT) Scary Chapter 12

Pairing: Werewolf!BTS X Female human reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: Starbucks slander and excessive question mark use

Word count: 1,818

Summary: All Y/N wants to do is find her creativity and motivation but she finds 7 werewolves instead.

Author note: Long time no see! I’m such an inconsistent writer it’s not even funny. The bad thing is that I have tons of ideas written down but I can never put them onto the page. Writing is hard T_T

That first scene may or may not be from my actual feelings.

Taglist: @dustyinkpages @thickemadame @moonlitehunter @thedarkwinterrose @momoriki @iistrangers @openup-yourmind @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @lovelyseokjinnie @scuzmunkie @bjoriis @maddypool31 @tfkp0p @blubearxy @stealth-liberal @potaetopic @zae007live @totallynoanalien @dvoz-writes @purplelady85 @savagemickey03 @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @blushyrawrz @skyys-universe @harmonie-writes @gamer-mask

Chapter 11 // Chapter 12 // Chapter 13

~3 years ago~

The only thing keeping your laptop from being thrown at the wall is the fact that it’s expensive and you can’t afford to buy a new one. The feeling of the blinking cursor on the blank word document mocking you is driving you absolutely bonkers. Feeling hopeless you switch to your ideas notebook to see if physically writing would kick start your creativity. That’s a trick people on a writing forum you follow swear by. Unfortunately that ended with the poor defenseless notebook being flung across the room.

Yeji once suggested speaking to a therapist about having anger management issues after walking into your office and having to dodge a flying pen Matrix style. The thing is that writing is the only thing that brings this emotion out of you. No other thing has been this frustrating in your life, especially these past few months. This change of scenery was supposed to help, instead its made it worse since now you’re all alone dealing with the thoughts of self doubt and multiple episodes of laying on the floor like the scene in Lilo and Stitch. Except, unlike Lilo, you have no one here to tell “Leave me alone to die” to.

You’re beginning to feel like a failure, absolutely no work has been accomplished. What kind of author can’t even write or draw? Maybe giving up the children’s book gig and becoming an erotica novel writer is a good idea. You’ve always thought about the idea of writing spicy romance novels. You’ve heard the building secretaries whispering about the newest “spicy” book they’ve seen on Tiktok. Apparently fantasy books about werewolves are very popular, talking about “mates” and “knots” and other supposedly hot things. Who knew porn about imaginary creatures would be something people would be into.

This cabin was supposed to help you write but right now it’s feeling like a stuffy prison. Checking Naver for any local coffee shops you discovered there’s a Starbucks, should you support local coffee shops instead? Yes. Would you rather have a frappucino than real coffee? Also yes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This Starbucks wasn’t a standalone building. Just like almost every other building in this town it’s connected to other shops almost like a strip mall. There’s a pet supply shop to the right of it and a tteok-bokki restaurant to the left.

Resisting the urge to stop at the restaurant you walk into the Starbucks and find that it looks just like any other one you could find in Seoul. It seems like this location is pretty popular. There’s a moderately long line of people waiting to place their order. All the tables were occupied even the seats right at the bar were taken. Sighing in defeat you switch your laptop bag from one shoulder to the other.

Heading out the door you heard a pair of voices loudly bickering behind you. Stopping to hold the door open for the men you recognized one of the men as Yoongi from the bakery. You didn’t know the other man though.

“Would you like some coffee with all that sugar?” Yoongi said giving the other man’s drink in his hand a disgusted look.

The taller man scoffed, “Oh I’m sorry that I’m not a coffee snob like you and only drink my coffee black. I happen to love myself and caramel frapuccinos are my comfort food. Self care is important these days!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes before noticing you, “What are you doing here?”

Before you could answer he was smacked on the back of his head and pushed out of the doorway. “Ya! Don’t you have any manners? Sorry about him, I’m Jin and I’m guessing you know Yoongi.””

You nodded while Yoongi turned and glared at the man behind him making a low sound that oddly resembled a dog’s growl. Shivers went down your spine and oddly down to another place that you definitely were not expecting.

“I was trying to get a frappuccino and some cake pops but the line is way too long and I didn’t want to wait.”

“I can make cake pops that are way better than those abominations. C’mon let’s go.”

Sharing a confused look with Yoongi who just shrugged you followed after Jin who was marching like a man on a mission in the direction of the bakery.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking into the bakery your nose was overwhelmed with the scent of cinnamon, it almost made you sneeze. Yoongi ushered you to a table near a window and told you to sit tight. Pulling out your phone you decide to browse Instagram while you waited. Leaning back in your chair you could hear muffled arguing coming from what you assumed was the kitchen in the back.

“I’m telling you, you need to play up the bad boy look. You can get more tips If you would at least answer when women ask you about your tattoos.”

“And I’m telling you, they make me uncomfortable. It’s either cranky ajummas who give me dirty looks when they notice or women who have no shame and try to touch them. I’m not a damn petting zoo, hyung.”

“You look like a zoo animal.” Jimin snickered while sitting on one of the counters near the stove. This resulted in a big glob of cream cheese frosting meant for the piping hot cinnamon rolls being launched at him narrowly missing his head and splattering on the wall. He jumped off the counter growling “Listen here you little shit.”

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing in MY kitchen?”

Jin was fuming looking at his younger mates acting like children in his precious safe haven. He knew he shouldn’t have let Yoongi talk him into going on a break.

“He started it!” Jungkook pointed at Jimin who was currently stalking towards him ready to hit him in his stupid pretty boy face.

“Shut up you little snitch!”

“Snitches get stitches” Yoongi added.

“Cut it out all of you” Namjoon called from the office rubbing his temples trying to alleviate the migraine that was forming from staring at excel sheets all day.

“Y/N is out there waiting for a coffee. This is our chance to give her the potion.” Yoongi informed the alpha wolf giving him the iced Americano he bought for him.

“Call Taehung and tell him to get over here. We’re executing the plan today.”

~Present Day~

You didn’t know what to expect but what you were expecting sure as hell wasn’t this. The room you were currently held in looked like a five star hotel room, adorned in hues of red and gold and decorated with paintings of regal wolves hunting deer and hanging around the moon goddess. If you were here under different circumstances maybe you could appreciate how beautiful this room was.

There was no clock in here so it was impossible to know how long you were trapped in this makeshift prison cell. And the lack of a window was also disorienting. Your phone sat useless on a side table, long dead. But it wasn’t needed to know at least a few hours had passed since the guards brought you.

The first hour was filled with frantic pacing and trying to open the locked door. Why were you guys being treated like prisoners? It’s not like you broke any laws. But seeing how serious the guards were you figured some werewolf law was in fact broken.

During your crisis Jungkook was somehow able to fall asleep on the plush king size bed. He was curled up in the fetal position hugging a pillow close to his body. His baby face, even more prominent while relaxed and unconscious, made him look like a young boy and not a man in his twenties even with his facial peircings.

Rage filled every part of your being as you fought the urge to yell at him to wake up and face the reality of the situation. After all this was his fault, right? Why did he take that stupid potion? Why didn’t he listen to Yuna? Why couldn’t he stop being so immature for once in his life?

This was the first emotion other than soul crushing sadness that you felt this during this whole ordeal and it scared you.

Walking away from him and into the bathroom to cool off before doing something you’d regret seemed like the right thing to do. Throwing things Jungkook already knew in his face would be cruel.

The marble of the bathroom counter felt cool against your palms as you stood in front of the sink staring at yourself in the mirror. You look rough, eyes red, face puffy and dried tears adorning your cheeks. You were never a pretty crier like the women in the Kdramas you watched every night with Jin. If said man was here he’d tell you that you looked like you got ran over by a car and that you could never catch him slipping like that.

You snorted at the memory of your overly confident mate. He always had an ugly crying face but you didn’t have the heart to ever tell him that fact. The small smile you were able to conjure up quickly fell when you remembered soon he won’t be your mate anymore. Feeling the urge to cry once again felt ever present so you rushed to turn on the water faucet.

Cupping your hands you splashed cold water in your face. The freezing liquid was shocking enough that it felt like an emotional reset. It was a little trick you learned from Yoongi who said it always helped to ground himself when he felt a panic attack coming on. ‘You can’t freak out when you’re cold’, he’d say. You seriously contemplated taking a cold shower and just fully shocking your system into submission but that just sounded miserable.

You definitely didn’t need anymore miserable in your life.

Was everything Jungkook’s fault? Yes. Could he have killed Yoongi? Yes. But he didn’t and that should count for something right? Why couldn’t Namjoon realize he was extremely sorry? Wasn’t the mate bond supposed to be strong? Isn’t it like a supernatural marriage pact?

What happened to ‘Through sickness and health’? How could Jungkook be thrown away like trash that easily? The thing that hurt the most was that no one else but you stood up for him. Not even Taehyung who ran with his tail between his legs when he was scared. Why were you the only brave one?

Jungkook was your priority now and you would stick with him for the rest of your life. The others may have been able to be forced into abandoning their love for him but you’re stronger than that. Fuck werewolves and their cowardice.

You’re not a weak human and if you have to prove that to each and every wolf here you would. Especially your alpha.

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msmargaretmurry · 8 months

Note

friend, what do you do when you haven't written (fan)fiction in more years than you can say for sure, and you're bitten by a character arc for a story that keeps spiraling into more and more as you think about it? i am feeling VERY overwhelmed especially as it becomes more about that character arc than the original plot idea. i remember you saying that you thought HAW was going to be like 40k and obviously it ended up much longer - having gone through that process, what did you learn? is there any advice you'd give, especially to someone already nervous to start doing something for the first time?

hello pal! i'm sorry you're having an anxious time of it but i'm excited to hear that you're flexing your writing muscles, and i hope that i can offer some helpful reassurances here!

the short answer is: you just write it. you just do it!!! ultimately the two choices here are write it or don't write it, and not writing it is way less satifying. yes yes WAY easier said than done though, so onto the long answer. 💞

trying to write again when you haven't written in a while can definitely be nerve-wracking, so first of all, i want to say that it's totally fine to be nervous. very normal of you! obviously you want your story to live up to the idea in your head, so it can be really hard to shake the whole feeling of, oh no what if it doesn't? what if my grand foray back into writing is an EMBARRASSING FAILURE?? so i also want to say that it will not be, because there is no such thing as failing at creativity, and i forbid you from being embarassed of anything you create while learning. writing is a never-ending learning process. the best writers you have ever read are the ones who embrace learning something new every time they write. i would say this even if it hadn't been years since you last wrote, but especially since it's been years since you last wrote, but it is imperative to remember that you have to start somewhere. to quote the great sam reich, the only way to begin is by beginning.

my #1 tip for if you're working on a story and it feels like it wants to be long and you have a lot of thoughts and ideas and feelings about it is to WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN. don't make yourself try to remember it all. i use a note in my notes app for this, but you can use a physical notebook or a google doc or whatever works for you.

this isn't for writing the actual fic — you might end up with snippets of scenes in here but nothing more than a few lines. this is for literally anytime you think of something for your story, into the note it goes, as soon as possible, so you don't have to worry about remembering it. a fact you learn, a future story beat you want to hit, a line of dialogue you want to include in a future scene, a lyric that inspires you, a reminder to include a detail or reference. i also use mine to keep a list of subplots/running themes — things you don't want to fall off your own radar and wind up forgotten halfway through.

you don't need to check your note/document/whatever every time you write, but if you're an outliner you can use it to periodically update your outline, and besides that, occasionally referring back to it is great for a) sparking inspiration for where the story goes next, and b) reminding you to go back and be like, hm, how long has it been since i referenced [subplot]? maybe it's time for that to make another appearance!

i also ALSO use mine to keep a list of things i know i'm going to want to go back and edit for once i have a full draft. i don't know about you, but i am a CHRONIC edit-as-i-go-er and doing this has helped me so much with being able to take a deep breath, accept that something in the draft probably needs fixing, and know that i won't forget about it. i no longer have the HAW version of this note (because i delete things out of mine as i address them, so by the end of writing the story the note is empty 😂) but iirc it had things like — make sure it's clear that matthew is kind of a mama's boy, double-check the pacing/frequency of matthew's big intrusive thoughts, make sure we know where bowie is for scenes in leon's house.

regarding the story becoming more about the character arc than the original plot idea, try to let go of your expectations of what the story was supposed to be and instead try to approach it with a mindset of discovering what the story is going to be. this will give you a lot more freedom to let it grow and change without feeling like you're abandoning something. the reason HAW got so long is because, when i started, i had two big plot beats that i knew i wanted to get to (the first breathplay scene and the first kiss scene) and as i was writing, i kept thinking to myself, okay i need x y z and then i get to tackle that big plot beat. so i would write x y z only to discover that i still needed more development to make it feel earned. so i just wrote more development! this did mean letting go of the conception of the story's structure i had going in, when i thought it would be shorter, but it ultimately let the beats fall in the right places.

(obviously letting your story sprawl however it wants to isn't always the the best thing you can do for a piece of fiction. but in character-driven stories, in my opinion, it's vital to give the character the space they need. and if it sprawls too much, you can always edit it down later. you can learn stuff about your characters from scenes you wind up cutting or from versions of scenes that don't end up working just as much as from the scenes you nail.)

if you think it'll help with motivation, get yourself an alpha reader. enlist a friend that you trust to be what you need them to be in this role. for me, it's that i can trust when i send them the next 5–10k chunk of first draft that they will read it at their earliest convenience (not letting it sit for days), that they will be invested in following the story (i once had an alpha reader tell me that they had totally forgotten about a major story development in the week or so between one chunk and then next chunk, and it devastated me), and that they will understand that as i'm grinding out the first draft, i need enthusiasm and encouragement, and concrit ONLY if there's a major issue. concrit is the realm of my beta readers.

everyone's writing process is different, so if there's stuff here where you're like, ugh i hate that idea, feel free to ignore it! or modify it! just don't spend so much time tinkering with planning and research and playlists and outlines etc that you don't actually write. occasionally a good writing sesh CAN be 98% tinkering, but most of them should not be.

finally, let yourself enjoy the process. don't put pressure on yourself to finish it quickly so you can feed it to the internet for comments and kudos. comments and kudos are, of course, fantastic, and also it's fine to set yourself arbitrary goals/deadlines if that helps you (e.g. "writing"i'm going to write 3,000 words a week" or "i'm going to finish this section of story by the end of the month") but try not to get stressed if it's taking longer than expected to write, or it turns out you want to add more than expected to the story. it's worth it to have a story you're happy with.

sometimes writing can be really hard and frustrating, but that doesn't mean you're doing it badly. sometimes you need to talk an issue through with a friend. sometimes it takes a few tries to figure out how a scene should go. sometimes you need to let a plot problem rotate like a $2 hotdog on the gas station hotdog roller of your brain for a couple of days before the solution comes to you in a vision at the most inconvenient time possible. (jot it down in your notes app before you forget it.)

anyway. good luck and i believe in you ❤ you know where to find me if you need to complain about writing/talk through something/get a pep talk!

#ask #writing #sorry this is so earnest. i am unfortunately a deeply earnest person

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prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 4 months

Text

year in review

one thing i did this past year was set my "win condition" for daily habit resolutions at 183 days in the year, because if you do something on 183 days in a year, that means you technically did it most of the time. i found this really motivational because it meant everything counted but there was also a lot of room for slack, and i feel like even for the resolutions i did not do so hot on that style of tracking gave me information and helped me think about what i really want out of that habit. so i am definitely planning to repeat it this year! as for the actual daily resolutions, they kind of fell into four categories.

nailed it

spend some time with some art: 232 days

work out: 216 days 💪🏼

drink at least 64 ounces of water: 277 days

pretty good

log my little habits & other trackables: 189 days

don't go on the internet before noon: 189 days (but see earlier posting about how i don't really feel like that addressed what i wanted it to address)

nice try

write out a plan for my day: 164 days

make something with words or with my hands: 153 days

get my room back into its baseline acceptable condition: 135 days

abject failures

meditate (147 days), journal (116 days), yoga (69 days) - yoga i just never found a place in my routine for this year but the other two i'm putting into this category even their numbers are not that high because i actually started off pretty strong and then just fully stopped around the beginning of september because life was hard. then like a month later i started having a mental breakdown where i couldn't stop crying and/or thinking about death. coincidence? you decide! (it's almost definitely not.)

i also had some goals to accomplish for the end of the, areas i wanted to make progress in without a specific endpoint, & vibes to cultivate, with mixed results:

memorize at least one (1) keyword/phrase for each tarot card - lol no

listen to sondheim's full body of work in chronological order - lol no

finish all unread books in my room - lol no

get my apartment into a state that would be okay for guests - lol no

post all WIPs - partial credit! i had a very ambitious count of 12 in mind when i made this resolution; i wound up posting 5 and a half, one of which was for & event and not on the list. idk i feel good about this tbh, especially since i did post everything that already had a substantial amount of writing in gdocs when i started the year (so, like, really all True WIPs rather than WIPs + various half-baked notions) and i like pretty much every fic i posted a lot.

up my walking till i'm regularly hitting 70k a week - i didn't put this one in my app for some reason and i am definitely too lazy to go through 12 months of notebooks but a glance at my apple health app suggests... sure? kinda? definitely for a while and then i got sick and then it got cold and dark and less so since then?

make progress towards figuring out routines that serve me: i... think so, yes? i spent a lot of this year, especially the spring and summer, just feeling sooooo dysregulated physically and fatigue-embattled and so on and so forth, and although my sleep cycle at the moment is not ideal, i am not, like, beset every day by the challenge of having a physical body anymore. i don't have one single daily routine i swear by, which is what i always fantasize about even though i know i would inevitably get bored of it and reject it (cap sun / sag stellium problems........), but i have some mini-routines i feel like i can call on, and i also have a set of meals that are boring but easy and reliable to eat basically every day so that i am not spending all of my disposable income on take-out anymore, and i also definitely now think of myself as A Person Who Works Out, so.... yes. i'm gonna say yes.

figure out a way to tackle my gigantic and ever-increasing Backlog Of Tasks: lmao no. not even a little bit.

make progress towards feeling more connected: i think so on this one, too. my most socially proactive friend moved out of the country for six months this spring and as the date of her departure was approaching i realized that i could either watch my social calendar virtually disappear for half a year or i could Try Harder, and then i did try a little bit harder and it went pretty okay. as much as part of me really wanted to, i did not drop my efforts during my extremely busy september/october, either. so.... yeah!

make progress towards fiscal responsibility: yeah. not, like, in leaps and bounds or anything, but i am definitely 3000% less stressed about money than i was a year ago.

stop treating everything like an emergency: hmmmm. i think i did well on this one for things that i can or should or need to take action on, but not so well for things i actually can't - like, i've gotten better at reminding myself that it, whatever it is, isn't fucking brain surgery, and in the worst case scenario life goes on, but i am still prone to the occasional despairing google spiral where i "research" some issue lying to myself that i am gathering important information but knowing deep inside i'm not planning to act on any of it at the moment and therefore really i am just feeding my own anxiety about it. partial credit.

don't push unless i have to: you know what? i think yeah. i mean, work in progress, but - yeah.

be proactive about looking for the stuff that makes me be alive: partial credit.

make more stuff, see more people, experience more art, have more fun: in order, maybe not strictly speaking "more" but between the amount i wrote and getting back into knitting i feel pretty happy about it; yes; probably?; definitely

fuck temperance: not as much as i maybe wanted to, but often enough to be glad when i did

i'm gonna come back on a full resolutions post later i think, maybe tonight maybe not (don't push unless i have to), but some current thoughts on this review:

keeping unedited; the 183 day goal (although i guess since we're in a leap year technically it should be 84, lol) in general; the daily habits of art, working out, drinking water, logging my little habits

i'm debating whether to keep planning my day as a habit or not. i feel like i've sort of internalized enough of a daily structure that some days it's helpful but other days i can just kind of jump into things and not feel like i missed something (today, for example, i've been toggling between work stuff and other goals, including sitting down to write this post, and it's felt pretty seamless)

internet: still thinking of a good way to phrase this. might just go with "make good internet choices" with the option to redefine or be more formal about "good internet choices" if i feel the need

making stuff: debating whether to keep unedited or now that i have gotten into knitting and definitely WILL be doing it pretty much anytime i'm watching something, do a teeny tiny daily writing resolution, like 100 words a day (or "100 words OR time spent doing actual research for something e.g. rewatching [redacted] for the sake of this newsletter i'm drafting")

room: i think i'm gonna keep this one, which lives in my app as "room maintenance," but mentally redefine it to EITHER re-setting my room to its zero position OR spending 20 minutes making progress towards that to disincentivize my current practice of leaving any messes i can't take care of in 20 minutes until i feel like i have a whole day to work on them

meditating, journaling, yoga, aka the self-care shit: i think i'm gonna swap meditating & yoga for mindfulness & mobility. so, like, one (1) yoga video, done while nothing else is playing and containing some degree of stretchiness, would get me a checkmark for both of those things, but i could also achieve both of them by doing, like, three minutes of silent deep breathing + stretching or foam rolling or one of those pilates butt workouts that always helps my back while watching TV or listening to a podcast or whatever. journaling... debating about this one but almost definitely planning to switch to digital journaling of some kind. the therapeutic value of handwritten journaling is real but it's clearly not something i'm up for at this period of my life lol. beyond that might keep it as journaling but just switch the mode, might split it up into reflection & recording, which are the two things i want out of journaling (the latter of which traditional journaling is actually terrible for for me because my handwriting is so bad i never reread my old entries) but could theoretically be accomplished by, like, a tarot pull + a social media post relating to the book or movie or whatever i'm reading. (i said i was gonna bring back blogging this year with my yearly personal tag and then i used it all of twice lol. BUT THIS YEAR I MEAN IT!!!)

walking: definitely gonna put this one in the app lol and also might switch to a monthly goal? i saw someone say that and it seemed crazy but then i was like, well it's true that if i get my period on a saturday and i haven't been going crazy with steps that week i'm basically done..... lol

it's been funny seeing posts all over the place encouraging "fun" new year's resolutions because those were the ones i failed the hardest at! lmao. clearly setting "do this by the end of the year" is not a productive framework for me personally. i will probably take some of my failed year-long resolutions from 2023 and make, like, a funsies list & a serious list, and then set a daily habit goal like "chip away a little at one fun project & one serious project"

the elephant in the room of my brain is, do i want to set some kind of numerical goal regarding Getting Out Of The House And/Or Spending Time With Human Persons? it feels intimating and scary and hard but also less so than it would have had i considered it before my friend moved out of the country. so....... maybe? idk.

similarly, debating if i do want to set some kind of goal regarding how much writing i accomplish, or if doing 100 words a day is enough since the hardest part of writing is absolutely just sitting down and fucking doing it. lol.

also considering a reading goal? that can but doesn't necessarily always count towards the art goal? hmmmm.

#isabel 2k24 #i mean it this time!

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goodluckclove · 14 days

Text

Migration Pattern Sneak Peek: Scott and Edgar

Is this spoilers? Kind of? I mean, if you don't want to know any cute developments in the relationship between Scott and Edgar you can skip this one. This does reveal a small element of their shared past, but if you don't consider spoilers to be literally any element of the story give it a shot.

I don't know, man. It's cute as fuck and I want to share it. Read more below!

Edgar’s mouth quivered in a hesitant smile. It broke free a while after that and he grinned fully, staring down at the bed. Scott willed himself to remember this moment and its entirety. The fading light of an early winter’s evening. The musky warmth of the room around them. His lover’s hands, still lightly squeezing his leg. If he had to crystallize one inch of the wild expanse of feeling he was capable of on an hourly basis it would be this one – the pride and affection, the shy hope like fresh-peeled oranges.

“What are you going to do with it?” Scott asked.

“Huh?” Edgar looked up at him, still blinking away the daze provoked by his praise. “Oh. Hah. You...You can have it. If you want.”

Scott smiled. “No. I mean – yes, obviously. But,” he looked down at the words again, almost as if confirming they were still there. “You’re going to submit it somewhere, right?”

“Submit –?” Edgar made a breathy scoff. “Come on, Scott. I haven’t written poetry in years, I’m not about to publish it.”

“There’s a birthright literary journal. Two of them, actually. I’ve only been checking the online one, but I think the magazine is still sold in Witch Town regions,” something occurred to him, and Scott perked up. “And the elders organize a yearly grant for emerging creatives! They used to, at least. When I was growing up.”

Edgar relaxed into curiosity. Maybe in hopes that he could change the subject. “Did you ever get it?”

“No. Yes – well,” Scott frowned, a little embarrassed. “They tried to, at least. I said no.”

“Seriously? Why?”

Scott allowed himself to drift into the grounding lucidity of Edgar’s presence. He thought of those snapshot moments – all he really had left of his past at the moment – where he woke up from sleep and immediately dove for his notebook to write the words fresh from his dreams. That time, alone in the silence of his small bedroom, was a completely different kind of inspiration than what he felt playing the piano. It felt like being cold and having someone who loves you wrap their coat around your shoulders.

The words weren’t his. He always knew that. When he tried to explain it to others they took it as the ravings of a muse-crazed artist. Scott didn’t know how to explain it any clearer than what he said. He had no idea how he arranged the lyrics that he did, but he knew with abject certainty that those were not his words.

“Can I show you something?” Scott asked.

Without waiting for an answer he shifted out of Edgar’s touch and went to his bookshelf. He knew in the back of his mind what he was looking for, but it took him a long while before he found where he left it before leaving home. Then it was there – the thick, battered composition book that contained every song he – or they – ever wrote.

It was so old. The spine was long ruined and held together by duct tape frayed along the edges. A lot of the black and white splotches on the cover were worn into soft, blank card stock. There was a mailing label stuck to the center where Tenzin drew a little doodle of him with his hair put up the way he liked it as a teen.

The shyness was odd. He was sure by now that he wasn’t showing Edgar anything he’d seen before, and yet his chest felt tight with anticipation. Because once Edgar would see this, he would know. He of all people would know. And even the thought of his understanding how Scott spent years weaving together their minds so intimately that he barely understood what he was doing...it brought a physical quality with it. A hand on his waist or the small of his back.

He took a deep breath and turned around. It was time they understood each other.

“Here,” he said.

Edgar didn’t look like he understood what was about to happen. Still, he took the book, and after smiling at the state of the outer cover he opened to the first page.

His smile didn’t fade. He wasn’t upset. Edgar’s expression did freeze in place for a while, and for a moment or two it was clear that he stopped breathing entirely. His eyes didn’t blink as he carefully flipped through the pages. A few times he stopped like he was about to read through a page, but then he would quickly swipe away.

After some time he closed the notebook and put it down on his lap. Edgar still stared down where it once laid open. He wasn’t upset. It just looked like he was thinking.

Scott felt naked. Skinless. Just bare, shamefully-pulsing meat shivering in the still air of his bedroom. It was unbearable.

“These are your songs?” Edgar said, quiet and a little vague.

“I know they’re…” Scott coughed softly into his hand and tried again. “I know they’re not…”

“Are these the only ones you wrote down?”

“No, I – I’d think of more. But…” he smiled weakly, even though Edgar wasn’t looking at him. “Those were my favorites. They were the ones that I could think of a good melody for.”

“Because you’d...sing them,” Edgar’s voice got even softer. “You would – would sing my...sing your…”

Edgar’s chest was beginning to rise and fall at a slightly faster rate. Scott wanted to touch his chest. He craved the heat of his bond’s skin warm against his cheek and the sound of his heart beat thumping in his ear. But if he did that now Scott would leave damp, sour-smelling stains on Edgar’s shirt, because at the moment he was still a pile of skinless meat.

“You…” Edgar let the word grow, bloom, ripen and fall in the air above their heads. “You liked it?”

“It meant everything to me,” Scott said.

A small smile touched Edgar’s face. “I-I’ve never – I mean, I never showed my poetry to anybody. But some of this…” he made a noise that was between a laugh and a sigh. “A lot of this are things I’d rip out and burn as soon as I finished them.”

“They’re so precious to me,” Scott whispered. “You’re so precious to me.”

Edgar lowered his head. He took one hand and ran the thumb up and down the inner crook of his opposite elbow. Scott remembered the first time he did that, right as they stood by Edgar’s open bedroom door on the night they meant. He could still feel the ghost of what he felt back then, but overlaid on top of that was the new determination of what he had to do next.

He crossed the small space between them and got down on his knees in front of Edgar. Just as his lover started to lift his hand, Scott carefully took his hand from off his arm and pressed it to his lips. He held it there, then cupped the palm against his cheek. Scott closed his eyes and felt the slight roughness of Edgar’s touch, the grazing of callouses, the raised line of his bond scar.

In the darkness of his closed eyes he head Edgar’s voice begin to tremble. “You’ve been waiting for so long…” he began.

“I’d do it again.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“You survived,” Scott said.

Edgar huffed a derisive laugh through his nose. “Look at you, Scott. I’m nothing like you –”

“I know,” Scott breathed. “That’s my favorite part about all of this.”

He felt Edgar’s hand move on its own, fingers tracing down the side of Scott’s face. He opened his eyes when he felt Edgar tilt his head up to look at him.

“It isn’t fair,” he said. “It’s not fair to you. I’m pretty much a normal human being, and you’re this goddamned painting –”

“Then let’s be normal together.”

Edgar furrowed his brow. “What?”

In a sudden burst of passion Scott rose up higher and kissed Edgar, gentle and long with his lips relaxed. He pulled back enough to see nothing else of reality other than the vibrant brown of Edgar’s eyes. Scott smiled, immersed in the color.

“Teach me how to tie my shoes,” he said.

Edgar was torn between laughter and charm. “I – you know, I had a feeling…”

Scott kissed him again, moving forward until he had Edgar fully reclined across the middle of the bed. He felt Edgar’s hands on either side of him – not obstrusive, more stabilizing than anything else. Which only fueled his fire even more.

“Let’s go grocery shopping together,” he whispered in Edgar’s ear. “I want you to show me how to drive a car.”

He heard Edgar shudder a breath and tighten his grasp on Scott’s waist. Just weak – no, not weak. Not Edgar. Just surrendering.

Scott kissed his forehead. “I want to register to vote,” he said.

“Are you not..?” Edgar’s breath hitched as Scott kissed each of his cheeks. “Have you never voted?”

“Security measures.”

He started to kiss Edgar again when his bond stopped their faces from fully meeting. Edgar steadied his face about a foot above him and stared deeply into his eyes. Scott felt his fingers graze the bridge of his nose and run across his lips. Edgar took every part of him in, seeing with such clarity that Scott could almost use him as a mirror.

Scott let this happen. He let himself be seen.

“I don’t want to go back,” Edgar finally whispered.

“Okay,” Scott said. “Then you won’t go back.”

“I don’t know what else is out there,” Edgar lowered his hands and let them fall on the mattress above her head. “You’ve been all over the country, haven’t you? What’s it like?”

They were lying across the bed, Scott straddled over Edgar’s waist. In another life, and with another person, Scott would be stripped and in the middle of ravishing or being ravished by now. But Edgar was apparently open for a casual conversation. If the depths of Scott’s devotion for him in that moment had a physical presence it would be an ocean without a bottom.

He moved off from on top of Edgar and laid down beside him across the bed. They stared up a the ceiling. After a moment, Scott moved to interlace their fingers.

“Vermont’s nice,” he said.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #authors of tumblr #queer writers #on writing #writing #writing community #migration patterns #actually writing #asexuality #asexual #acespec #asexual smut

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