#I think I might go for a part III at least | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sluttywoozi · 1 month

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Golden Hour | husband!joshua x reader

After a long day of surf and sun, Joshua somehow still has the energy to fuck you into the hotel mattress. Being in love (and obsessed) with his wife always pays off.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~4.4k | Pairing: hjs x reader | Genre: smut

Part of the Husband Joshua series! Can be read as a standalone

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Warnings: idk how to surf so if this is wrong blame wikihow, possessive!josh, drink mention but it doesn’t have to be alcoholic, oral r. rec., spitting, some spanking, fingering, piv sex, breeding kink but they don't want kids, creampie(s), cockwarming

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, on some form of birth control, referred to as a wife, wears a bikini (every body is a bikini body), wears a dress

Joshua raises a hand to his face, holding it above his eyes to block the glaring sun as he scans the crowded shore for you. He’s been out in the water for a while, trying to improve his surfing skills and also perhaps trying to impress you, just a little. Neither you nor him have been to the beach since your honeymoon, and he doesn’t want you to think those lessons he splurged on while you were having a spa day were for nothing.

He’s caught a few waves so far but hasn’t made it close enough to the shore to see your face, so he has no idea if you’ve been watching him or if you’ve just been reading and listening to music. He won’t be hurt if you haven’t had your eyes on him, but he does want you to see him ride at least one wave.

He hears some murmurs from the few other surfers in front of him and turns around, instantly seeing what has them talking. There’s a big one coming in, building and building and building, and if he starts paddling now, he just might make it.

So he leans forward onto his stomach, his arms powering through the water even as his muscles begin to ache from so much use. The ocean beneath him starts getting sucked in, contributing to the rolling wave, and he prepares himself to pop up and find his balance.

His heart races as he takes off, getting his feet beneath him and standing on steady legs, his arms loose and his eyes trained on the shore. He rides the wave as far as he can, bailing when it starts to peter out and immediately swimming up to catch his breath. Climbing back onto his board, he looks around for your rented rainbow sun umbrella, grinning when he realizes he’s much closer to it than he thought he’d be.

You’re not under it though, his smile dropping as he starts to survey the beach, searching for you. He can’t seem to find you, and for some reason that has his heart racing again, this time in anxiety rather than exhilaration.

“Joshie! That was amazing!” You exclaim from somewhere to the left of him, your voice just a bit faint but still easily recognizable. He whips his head over, his shoulders relaxing as soon as he sets eyes on you, wading waist deep in the clear blue water and making your way toward him.

He beams and hops off the board, closing the remaining distance and catching you with one arm as you launch yourself at him. The other keeps hold of his board, though he wishes he had both hands free to hug you back.

He also wishes he could feel your skin against his, but his swim shirt is still in the way and he won’t be able to take it off until you let go of him, which he’s not going to ask you to do any time soon.

It’s silly but he’s missed you while he was out surfing, even though it’s only been a couple of hours. You’ve been on vacation for three days already and he’s grown used to sharing every minute with you, being in your presence for each breath in and each breath out, bar bathroom breaks and the one nap you took without him when he wanted to explore and you wanted to stay in.

He wishes it could be like this all the time, but he’ll settle for the rest of the week if only because he knows he’ll have you for the rest of his life.

Too soon, you pull away, sliding your hands from his shoulders to rest on his chest, your touch appreciative and the slightest bit possessive. His hand on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh exposed by your bikini. You let him pick out your swimsuit today, and while some men might want to cover their wife up, he’s the opposite.

He thinks it’s hot that people are looking at you, wanting you, not knowing he’s the only one you’ll ever go home with. They realize when he presses his lips to yours in a claiming kiss, when he lets his hands wander a little, when they notice the matching rings on your left fourth fingers.

He doesn’t even know if anyone is looking at you now, too busy staring into your eyes to notice anything else, but he feels the urge all the same. You can already tell what he wants, leaning in to meet him in the middle as he kisses you deeply, slowly, sucking at your bottom lip and sliding his tongue into your mouth when it opens on a gasp.

His hand slips down to your ass, squeezing it over your swimsuit hard, pulling your cheek up and over, surely tugging at your pussy too. You squirm against his chest, pressing closer to him as your fingernails dig into his pecs.

He remembers you’re at a public beach when a wave crashes into you, and thank goodness it did because he was millimeters away from slipping his hand into your bikini bottoms so he could find out if you’re wet from the water or wet for him.

He pulls away and laughs, shifting his hand to your lower back and pecking you one last time before breathing, “Should we head back to the room?”

“Yeah, I think we should. Wanna lay out enough to dry off first?” You offer hopefully, and while he kind of just wants to throw you over his shoulder and haul you to the hotel now, he knows you hate tracking water through the clean lobby.

“Sure, baby, we can do that,” he smiles fondly, giving you one last squeeze and releasing you. His board goes under one arm and you go under the other, your hand coming up to hold his as you walk back to the shore together.

He splits off from you to return the board to the surf shack, promising he’ll bring back one of those coconut drinks for you to share though he knows you’ll likely have most of it.

The line isn’t too long for the return of the board or the purchase of the coconut drink, thankfully, and he walks back to you with care, not wanting to spill even a drop.

You’re on your stomach to the side of the umbrella when he arrives, not under its shade but close enough that it’s obviously yours, a thick terry cloth blanket spread out under you with just enough room for his body too. He sighs contentedly as he sits next to you, handing over the drink and smiling as your eyes widen with glee, your lips pursing around the straw to take an excited sip.

He reaches for the hem of his surf shirt and yanks it off, wringing it out away from the blanket and laying it flat on the edge of the lounge you no longer occupy. You roll over to lay on your back and he feels your eyes on him like a physical touch, your gaze hot and familiar on his chest and stomach.

He loves how you look at him, loves that you’d rather stare at him than at the beautiful beach around you, loves even more that you’re obsessed with his body just like he’s obsessed with yours.

He also loves that this way, he can look at you too. You shift up onto your elbows, your breasts jiggling with the movement, and he feels a bolt of desire shoot straight down his spine as he lets his eyes lovingly travel over every available inch of you. Over your soft tummy and your squeezable hips and your perfect, perfect thighs. Thighs he wants to suffocate between. Thighs he wants to sink his teeth into. Thighs he wants to hold down to the bed as he-

“I think I’m dry enough. Are you?”

He clears his throat and attempts to clear his head, but images of you still swim through his thoughts, even as he nods and tugs at his board shorts to subtly adjust himself. They don’t feel as wet between his fingers, just damp, and when he reaches for his shirt, it’s close enough to dry that he only cringes a little as he pulls it back on.

You pack up together quickly, and Joshua is almost relieved when you reach for your dress and tug it over your head, needing a reprieve from your near naked body. He’s less relieved when he remembers that it’s a fucking sundress.

Of course it is, that’s all you’ve been wearing on this trip, and he doesn’t know how he forgot. This is worse, because it’s his favorite article of clothing on you, and because he knows all you’ve got on under it is an easily untied, flimsy little bikini.

It takes everything in him not to pull you into one of the changing cabanas, bend you over, and make you scream for him; he manages somehow, the knowledge that he can do the latter two when you get into the room tiding him over, but only just.

He’s silent while you return the umbrella, his hand tight around yours as you walk through the lobby, and he’s glad you know him well enough to understand that he’s not upset or annoyed, just nearly out of his mind with desire for you.

The wait for the elevator feels like eons, especially when he looks at you in the reflection of the metal doors, your form slightly fuzzy but clear enough for him to see the rise of your tits under your dress and the way the hem flutters gently over your thighs. Those thighs…

The doors part with a ding and you pull him inside, pressing the button for your floor before the elevator fills with other guests, leaving you and Joshua at the back. You’ll have to maneuver in between them to get out but it means he can slide his hand up your dress and squeeze your ass again, his fingers slipping under your bikini to touch your bare skin.

They creep closer to the heat between your legs with every stop, and he’s just about to reach your pussy when the elevator lands on your floor. He reluctantly takes his hand back and rights your dress, murmuring, “Excuse us,” as he weaves around the few people left. When the doors close behind you, he twines his fingers with yours and breaks into a jog, tugging you to the room and grinning as a few bitten back giggles escape you.

He bounces on his toes as you dig the card out of your bag, your trembling fingers inserting it into the lock and his hand turning the handle as soon as the light glows green. He pushes the door open for you, following closely with his other hand tight on your hip, his dick already hard and throbbing in anticipation.

You’ve barely set your bag down before he’s steering you to the bed, crowding you up against the edge, and pressing your shoulder to bend you over. He flips up the hem of your dress and tears down your bikini, knocking your legs apart with his own and pushing his left knee up until yours rests on the bed. He’s sure you expect him to drop his shorts and sink right into you, which is probably why you gasp when he falls to his knees and slaps your ass with both hands before spreading your cheeks apart and shoving his tongue inside of you.

You taste fucking divine, the beloved flavor of your pussy tinged with salty seawater, and he groans deeply into you, fucking his tongue in and out of your entrance and swallowing as his mouth fills with saliva and your arousal.

He fucks you with his tongue until you’re whining and shaking above him, tilting your hips to improve the angle and rocking into his movements. The leg keeping you up starts to quiver, and he pulls away just long enough to gasp out, “On the bed, baby, get on the bed.”

You listen, clumsily climbing up and stretching out for him, face down, ass up, just like he likes you. He smacks your ass again just because he can before spreading your pussy open with his thumbs and spitting on your clenching entrance. Some of it seeps inside of you and some of it trails down to your clit, leaving the bud glistening and just begging for his attention.

He leans down and wraps his lips around it, sucking in hard, quick pulses until you cry out, “Joshie, please!”

“Please what, baby? Tell me what you want,” he mumbles into you, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Your fingers, I want your fingers,” you whimper into the pillow, arching your back and pressing further into him in wanton need.

He licks his lips to get one last taste of you and slides two digits deep inside, giving you no time to adjust to the intrusion before pulling them out to the tip and sinking them back in. His pace rockets up, his tired muscles hard at work as he fucks you with his fingers, the wet sound of your pussy accepting them filling the air.

He wants to hear your voice too, slowing down and leaning over you to slide his fingers beneath your cheek and turn your head to the side so you’re no longer muffled by the pillow. Your gaze catches his and he smiles tenderly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple before returning to his previous position and hooking his fingertips into your g-spot, grinding harshly into it.

Predictably, you yelp, your eyes squeezing shut as he focuses on massaging that sensitive patch, his breath catching as he feels you get wetter around his fingers. You’re moaning now, your brows scrunched with pleasure and your mouth stuck open, and he reaches his free hand up to tap at your bottom lip with two fingers, sliding them into your mouth when you open wider for him.

You suction around them immediately, your tongue laving over his knuckles and bathing his fingers in saliva, and he feels his cock throb in his shorts in response, the memory of your perfect lips around it visceral and precious. He yanks his fingers back before he can get too distracted, reaching around you to sandwich your clit between them.

He starts fucking you with his other hand again, your hips jerking with it, stimulating your clit as he curls his fingertips towards your stomach, tapping your sweet spot with every thrust. It’s not long before you’re gasping out his name and clenching down, your thighs juddering as you fight to hold yourself up through the pleasure.

He doesn’t stop, pinching your clit harder and digging his fingers into you, scissoring them to stretch you out for another. A third squeezes in beside the first two, making you whine and claw at the duvet, your cunt contracting and trying to suck his fingers in deeper when he pulls them out.

“Fuck,” he groans, releasing your clit to press down on your back and deepen the arch, making it even easier for him to hit your g-spot. He wants to be inside of you, desperately, but he wants to make you cum again first, wants you to be so wet, he can just glide right in.

You’re getting close, he can tell by the way you’re pushing back into his thrusts and sobbing, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to say it, but it just feels so fucking right that he can’t stop the words from coming out.

“Cum for me and I’ll breed you full.”

You suck in a sharp gasp and bear down, your pussy rippling and leaking and fever hot as you break apart beneath him, your arousal soaking his hand and dripping down his wrist. It seems like it lasts forever, though he’s sure it helps that he’s still fucking his fingers into your g-spot as much as your tightness will allow.

He knows you’re done when you whimper brokenly and pull away from his touch, your hand reaching back to hold his wrist in place so he doesn’t follow you. He decides to let you catch your breath, sliding off the bed to shed his shorts and wipe his hand off on a towel, bringing it with him so he can spread it out under you like he should have done before.

You’re on your side when he returns, and he climbs back onto the mattress before carefully tugging at your shoulder and hip, pulling you to rest on your back and waiting for you to look at him.

When your eyes blink open, they’re teary and dazed, and you watch as he gathers a couple pillows, weakly lifting your hips just enough for him to slide them under you and lay the towel out on top of them. He’s gentle as he sets his hands on the backs of your knees and pushes your legs up, the angle making it easier for you to keep them tucked to your chest when your hands replace his.

He can tell your head is full of clouds by the way you gaze at him, and he attempts to bring you some clarity by asking, “Remember what I said before?”

You think for a second, your lips pouting as you try to recall, and he can’t resist leaning down over you and pressing his mouth to yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he soothes the sting with his tongue.

When he pulls away, it seems to come to you, and your eyes clear up just a bit as you respond, “You said you’d breed me full if I came for you.”

“Good, baby, that’s right. So what do you think I’m going to do now?” He asks, sitting back up on his knees and shuffling closer to lay his aching cock on your wet pussy, just barely grinding against you.

“You’re gonna-,” you take in a halting breath. “You’re gonna breed me?”

“Yeah, honey,” he nods with a hungry smirk, shifting his hips back enough to line himself up before pressing forward a few inches and popping the head of his cock inside of you. “I’m gonna fuck you full of my cum, until it’s dripping out of you. And then I’m gonna fuck it back in, and fill you up even more. Until it takes.”

You whimper from deep in your throat, pressing your lips together and readjusting your grip on your legs, your eyes darting down to stare yearningly at his cock.

“Do you want that?” He whispers, working himself in as slowly as he can manage, teasing both you and himself.

You just nod, but he wants to hear you say it, needs to hear it from your own lips.

“Tell me then.”

“I- I want you to fill me up with your cum, fuck a baby into me, please.”

He sinks the rest of his cock inside of you, covering your hands with his and spreading your legs wider, pushing them into your chest and resting his weight on them as he draws back and snaps forward.

He’s not gentle now, and he’s definitely not slow, his hips smacking into your ass as he thrusts forcefully into you, his grunts of exertion soon joining the cries escaping you. You’re staring up at him with stars in your eyes, your fingers tight on your thighs beneath his and your pussy fucking flawless around him, and he’s never been so in love.

That’s a thought he has constantly but he means it every single time, his devotion to you endless and all consuming.

His appetite for you is voracious enough to rival it; the need, the sheer greed that he feels when it comes to you stripping him down to his basest desires. He’s only human in the end, and nothing could be more human than the urge to love you, to fuck you, to breed you, to keep you. He knows you’re his already but beyond that ring on your finger, there’s one other thing that could show the world you belong to each other, and that includes pumping you so full of his cum, it sticks.

He’s getting close already just thinking about it, and the way you’re clenching and fluttering around him doesn’t help in the slightest. He wouldn’t mind breaking this early though, not when it means he can just get hard again and fuck his cum even deeper into you.

“Joshie,” you whine in the voice that means you’re inches away from the edge, and he feels his body respond, his heavy balls drawing up tight and his cock hardening further within you.

“Cum whenever you want, baby. I’m not stopping anytime soon,” he vows darkly, fully intent on keeping you in this bed and on his dick for the rest of the day. Maybe for the rest of his life.

You shudder at his words, gasping when he shifts his hips and changes the angle, the head of his cock now bullying right into your g-spot. He can’t hit as deep like this but he knows it’ll be enough to unravel you, and that’s exactly what he wants.

He grins wickedly when you start to ripple around him, knowing the waves of your orgasm are beginning to overtake you, and when it’s at its peak, he sinks in deep and lets you carry him with you. He groans roughly at the feeling of your undulating walls milking his cock, relief and bone deep satisfaction filling him as he fills you.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, fucking you through the sensitivity and burying his cum deeper inside of you. You buck against him in overstimulation, crying out his name with tears in your voice, and he feels his cock twitch and get harder, your pussy like a molten velvet vise around him.

An hour and two more loads pass by in a blur, every minute melting into the next as he ruts into you, barely pulling back enough to get any friction but grinding into your sweet spot to keep you pliant. He thinks he might’ve fucked you dumb, no words escaping your parted lips and no thoughts behind your glassy eyes. You’re still holding your legs up though, and that’s how he knows you’re present enough to hear him.

“Said I would fuck you full, didn’t I, baby?” He laughs breathily, his eyes trained on the sight of his cock thrusting into you, the combination of your arousal and his cum seeping out around him in bursts. “I think you’re pretty fucking full.”

You mumble something but he doesn’t catch it, and he shifts your legs onto his arms and leans down, bracing his hands on the bed to hold himself up. “What was that, honey?”

“Not enough,” you gasp out, releasing your thighs to wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s not enough, Joshie, I want more.”

Your words blend together but he hears them all the same, and a jolt of desire surges through him, traveling down his spine and ending in his cock. He gets his legs under him, trapping you in a mating press so he can put more power behind his hips as his strokes get deeper, longer, your fingernails digging into his neck with every thrust of his aching dick.

“I can give you one more, baby, I’ll give you whatever- whatever you want,” he groans raggedly, his vision blurring and his hips stuttering as he nears the edge for what he fears may be the last time. You clench and squeeze and flutter around him, whimpering, “Please, Joshie, breed me,” and that’s it for him.

This time when he cums, it’s enough to steal his voice, his breath, his thoughts. It’s blinding, the pleasure, but that just means he feels everything. He feels you falling to pieces on his cock, he feels the warmth of the sunset on his back, he feels his heart racing in his chest. He feels his cum filling you again, replacing what he’s fucked out, and more than anything, he feels satiated, like there’s nothing left to give and nothing left to take.

He all but collapses into you, shifting to rest his knees on the bed and dropping your legs from his arms, his face buried in your neck as he trembles and gasps for air. Your cunt is still hugging him tightly, and he winces at the sensitivity of his spent cock but doesn’t pull out, can’t pull out, not when he knows that all of his hard work will go to waste as soon as he does.

You run gentle fingers through his salty hair, your chest slowly rising and falling against his, and his body starts to grow heavy, exhaustion weighing him down and the comfort of your pussy keeping him warm.

He’s asleep before the golden light of the sun fades from the sky.

“Joshua, with everything we said, I have to ask… Have you changed your mind about kids?” You ask softly, your back to his chest and your body between his legs as you laze in the massive hotel bath together.

He presses his lips to your neck and thinks, only for a second, before responding, “No, I’m happy with our life. I don’t need anything but you.”

You let out a sigh of relief and turn in his arms, resting your cheek on his shoulder and tucking your legs up, your knees just barely out of the water. He scoops some up and pours it over you, not wanting you to get cold.

“Good, I feel the same way.”

“Love you,” he murmurs into your hair, kissing your crown and rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“I love you,” you whisper in return. “The breeding kink was hot though, let’s keep that?”

“Oh yeah, baby, for sure.”

AN: for @thatgirlfromwindsor and these anons 💖

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pinkie-pop · 5 months

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"Do Paimons Dream of Floating Sheep?"

Mondstadt: Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Based on this

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Paimon!Reader, Yandere Genshin Impact, Aether, Albedo, Eula, Diluc, Kaeya, Lisa, Venti

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: Being dragged into the world of your favorite video game is hardly your idea of a relaxing Saturday, and being dragged into the world of your favorite game, taking over the role of mascot even less so. Unfortunately, it seems fate has no interest in what you consider to be a normal day, and it will do anything to replace your idea of normal entirely.

Includes: Acrophobia, implied drugging of a drink (Not Reader's),

Note: This work is distinct from the previous two installments in that it does not follow a chronological timeline. Instead, it contains a collection of short stories and interactions.

“Ah, hello there [Name],” Kaeya says, catching you on one of the rare moments you’re alone. “I was just about to get some Sticky Honey Roast, do you want to join? My treat.” He must know it’s your favorite—one of the few things you have in common with the original Paimon—with the way he always seems to use it as an excuse to spend more time with you.

“Um, is that really okay? Aren’t you like, on duty?” Kaeya smiles, pressing a finger to his lips.

“It’ll be our little secret,” he says. You try to smile at him as you think of ways to decline, but a betrayal from your stomach seals your fate. Your blue-haired companion chuckles at the loud grumble from your stomach and beckons you to follow him. ”Sounds like you’re in agreement. Then, let’s head down to Good Hunter,” he says, placing a hand on the small of your back as the two of you walk. It's a little uncomfortable, but you don’t say anything.

Kaeya is difficult to navigate, so you usually avoid him. You think he’s noticed, but he’s yet to say anything about it. Instead, the two of you engage in a silent tug-of-war, with him always trying to pull you in closer and you always trying to break away.

Well, at least the food’s free.

The two of you make your way down to Good Hunter, where you engage in awkward small talk as Kaeya stares you down uncomfortably. You’re about halfway through making some vague remark about the weather when Kaeya lets out something like a contented sigh, stopping you in your tracks.

“This is nice,” says Kaeya, resting his chin on his hand and looking at you with a gaze resembling something like tenderness. “They run me ragged at the Knights of Favonious—seeing you is like a breath of fresh air. I’d better be careful, otherwise I might get swept up in your gaze and forget everything else.”

“Run you ragged? Is Jean really that hard on you?” You say, pointedly ignoring his flirtatious remarks.

“Oh, absolutely,” he says. “Why just the other day, I–” Kaeya pauses, as if sensing something. Slowly, he turns around.

“Go on,” says Jean, standing right behind him. “What happened next, Captain?” She enunciates the title with purpose, clearly angry but still smiling. Kaeya swallows, and gets an earful from Jean. You finish your meal in peace.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Just a little further–!” You say, oustretching your hand and teetering over the edge of the ladder, desperately trying not to look down. Lisa had asked you to help her with some menial tasks at the library. Right now, you're reshelving books as Lisa holds the ladder steady. You could have forgone the ladder and flown up to the shelves yourself, but after last time…you shudder. No, it’s much easier to use the ladder instead, although, really, you’d rather not be up here at all. Lisa had practically begged you to go up, citing her bad back as to why she couldn’t do it herself. “Ah, got it!” you say, smiling victoriously. You grin down at Lisa, only to realize just how high up you are.

Like waves crashing against the sand, the floor below you shifts and swirls as you fight to stay afloat. It is a meaningless fight, you know, for you are already falling. Time seems to slow down as you plummet to the floor. Logically, you know your fall should only take but a few seconds, but to you, it seems to stretch out for an eternity.

Your life flashes before your eyes. You see your family smiling at you from beyond a white light, you reach towards it, but there’s nothing there. You could save yourself by flying, but you’ve already vowed to never take to the skies again, and so down you fall. Falling is not all that dissimilar to flying, you see. It’s merely a matter of perspective.

Surely you must be close to the ground by now? It feels as though you’ve been plummeting down for ages.

You keep falling. Then, you stop.

Lisa catches you, her face mere cetemeters from yours. “I take it this means you’ve fallen for me?” She teases as your face heats up. You try to tell her to put you down, to ask about her back, but the words don’t come out. Instead, you lay there in her arms, gaping at her as if she had just grown three heads. Finally, she puts you down. You aren’t sure how long she kept you there, but you have a feeling it was longer than it needed to be.

The two of you finish shelving the books in silence, Lisa smiling the whole time.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Hey, Aether?” Your companion looks up at you in curiosity. You take a breath. ”If…we’re travelers, then, does that mean we don’t have a place to call home? What happens when our journey ends?” You look down, running a finger across the crescent scar on your hand—a nervous habit you picked up after coming to this world.

You had been thinking about this for a while. Ever since you fell into the lake three weeks ago. You have a home, but it's not here.

“Home, huh..?” Aether seems to be pondering over your question sincerely. No matter how silly or inconsequential your thoughts were, he always took you seriously. You liked that about him. “Home is wherever the three of us are,” he says at last. You chuckle awkwardly, unsure of what to say. It was sweet of him to say that, but he’s only known you for a few months.

You open your mouth to speak, but Aether cuts you off before you get the chance to. “I mean it, you know. Even if you don’t believe it. I don’t care how long we’ve known each other. You found me when I was at my lowest, when I was lost and missing the only family I’d ever known. You picked me back up and taught me about this world, even though it was foreign to you, too. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.” Your face grows hot as you turn away.

You aren’t an idiot. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you. Like you’re the only thing in the whole world. But…perhaps because you didn’t want to hurt him, you always ignored the signs, no matter how obvious they may be.

You aren’t sure if you can ignore this one, though.

“I can’t stay.” How can you say that? You can’t. You have a home, but Aether isn’t a part of it. One day you’ll tell him.

Just not today.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Position your feet like this, then…” Eula stands behind you, her front nearly touching your back as she guides your arms into the proper positions. She’s close, nearly too close, and you can feel her hot breath on the nape of your neck as she instructs you. It’s hard to focus, but you do your best to follow her instructions. “Good. Now, from the top.” You do as she says and get back into starting position. Your feet start a shoulder widths apart, your hands above you, good, you’re starting off stopping. Next, move your hands like this and your feet like so.

Keep going, now. You’ve almost done it. Move slowly, don’t rush. Remember to breathe. You hold your current pose for three beats then slowly, carefully, move on to the next position. You drag the tip of your foot across the floor in a circular motion, then join it with your other one. You’re almost done now. It’s time for the finale.

Careful now, it’s the final stretch. Almost there, almost there—

You trip.

Internally cursing at your mistake, you hardly notice the way Eula’s arms swiftly wrap around you, keeping you from harm.

“You did well,” she says, walking towards the gramophone and taking out the record. She readies the song to play again, then steps back towards you. You never noticed it before, but even the way she walks is as elegant as a dance. You suppose that’s one perk of nobility.

“Thank you…”

“Now, let’s try again, shall we? Don’t worry, I’ll spot you. Just focus on dancing.”

•~•~•~•~•~•

Aether fell asleep.

It was still early, but the day was not particularly kind to him. You suppose it’s natural for him to be a bit tired. Still, to fall asleep in the middle of a bar was…

Diluc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“If Aether’s too tired to walk back, there’s a spare room here that you can use. I doubt you’ll be able to carry him,” he says, wiping a glass. He’s been wiping the same glass for several minutes now…almost as if he were waiting for something...Or maybe he just switched them out when you weren’t looking. The glasses all look the same, after all.“Of course, if you’re worried about the comfort of such a room, I can always carry him back to my manor. You can stay in one of the spare rooms, too. I’ll let the maids know not to disturb the two of you.”

“Thank you,” you say. “But that shouldn’t be necessary. Aether’s a pretty light sleeper, I’m sure I can wake him, no problem.”

“Are you sure?” Diluc glances over at you. “He looks pretty out of it.” You try jostling him, only for there to be no response. You continue trying on and off for the rest of the night. It is only until the tavern is minutes away from closing that you finally accept Diluc’s offer. You hadn’t wanted to burden him, but he was right. You couldn’t carry him all by yourself. You follow Diluc back to his manor. He seems uncharacteristically pleased.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Dragonspine is cold.

You knew that, of course, but you had no ideea just how cold it really was. The game’s sheer cold gave you an idea, sure, but it left out just how biting the wind could be. A simple frost filter overlaid on top of gameplay could to nothing to convey just how freezing the place really was. Even now, bundled up in three layers of coat and standing next to a fire, the cold still found its way to creep past your defences, starting at your skin and seeping down into your bone.

You are cold. Freezing, even. To an almost literal degree. You think that if you were to start crying now, your tears woud freeze before they even left your eyes. Perhaps your eyelids would freeze shut, and perhaps you would never be able to open them again. It’s so cold that you wonder if you’ll ever feel warmth again. You wonder if such a thing is even possible.

You know these musings are silly, but alas, you cannot help them. It is far too cold to be thinking of anything else.

“Come here,” Albedo says, beckoning you over. You do so without thinking, though the chill makes you want to stay put. Albedo wraps a blanket around the two of you, then pulls you into his chest. You relax into him immediately, the warmth from his body overtaking you, fighting valiantly against the frigid air. For once, it seems to actually have a chance.

You snuggle in closer and Albedo wraps an arm around you, bringing you somehow closer than before as he rubs small circles into your back. It’s soothing. You sigh happily, too focused on the temperature to notice the possessive way he’s looking at you, too preoccupied to wonder why he doesn’t turn on the heater you saw hours ago.

You didn’t know it was possible for people to be this warm. Perhaps it is because Albedo is not a person at all. Albedo holds you as if you are his only lifeline, and, for a second, you find yourself wondering if he’s cold as well. Right, Albedo doesn’t get cold. He can’t.

So then, why is he holding you so tightly…?

•~•~•~•~•~•

There’s something almost hypnotic about his voice, or perhaps its about the way he strums his lyre. Is it because he’s a god? Or perhaps it’s simply a millenia of experience at play. Perhaps it is both. Perhaps neither. You don’t dwell on it. You’d miss the performance if you did, and what a shame that would be.

The two of you sit together, alone in the dead of night with only each other for company. You sat at the foot of the large statue in the middle of the city as he serenaded you. Perhaps it was a little egotistical of him, to sing for you under a statue of himself, but you are far too preoccupied in song to care.

The moon’s milky glow illuminates his face in a way that is almost ethereal. At times, you have found yourself wondering if Venti was truly a god fit of the title. It is only now, in times like this, that the truth of his divinity is realized. Words fall like honey from his lips as he sings, his nimble fingers plucking at the strings with precision and expertise. His skill is unmatched—not just in Mondstadt, but in the whole of Teyvat. Of this, you are certain.

The song comes to its end, and so too does your rendezvous.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You close the Archive.

“So that’s what the future has in store for me, huh?”

Taglist: @shadowkitty-me @probablynoposts @kissyhalik @persephone-kore-law @neverending-animelove @crxscnt @teravolting @resident-cryptid @esthelily @shellofthewall @dilucragnidvr @altheq0 @wegottastayfocus @jellothefool @c0l1fl0r @francisnyx @imma-just-chill @fantasyhopperhea @iamapotatoe @utahimechan @undecidingfate @saltystudentdefender @vee-love @ayameei @shadowkitty-me @fantasyhopperhea @c4xcocoa

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere diluc #diluc ragnvindr #yandere kaeya #yandere albedo #yandere aether #yandere lisa #yandere venti #yandere x reader #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin

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urfavlarry · 1 month

Text

SBG characters getting caught making out with their s/o

warnings: making out, bad grammar, swearing

A/N: If you haven’t read part I, go read that as well!! :D and also if you want a part III with any other characters i’ll make one (I won’t do Logan cuz tbh I think he just wouldn’t do that kind of stuff)

Part I Part II

Ben Clark

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Yall would be at his house in his room when Aiden just randomly barges in cuz Aiden is just wild

You would have to be the one to initiate the make out probably cuz I believe he’s pretty shy when doing these things

You would guide him but once he gets it it’s like he is EXPERIENCED

Heaven fr

You would have music in the background

I really think ben would be into like System of a down or korn

You wouldn’t hear him over the music so um that would he a bit awkward

Ben would probably notice and quickly pull away

You would just look at Aiden with a pissed expression and flip him off haha

Yall would NOT be doing that ever again (at least not at his house)

Ashlyn Banner

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Yall would definitely not get caught tbh

She had great hearing after all

She would hear the person coming 5 minutes early HAHA

Would just go and lock the door like “bitch you ain’t disturbing me and my s/o”

Let’s say she didn’t have her super hearing and blah blah blah yeah how would that go?

She would yell at the person tbh and then she would just huff when they leave and ramble to you on how stupid that person is

“I swear some people need to learn how to knock like it’s a great invention.”

“Calm down honey it’s—”

“Don’t fucking honey me.”

“You know you love it.”

tsundere-ish type

IDK WHY SHE JUST GIVES THAT KIND OF VIBEEE

Would definitely be at least a bit of embarrassed

Just give her some kisses and call her pet names I believe she would melt haha

Barron

(if anyone knows his last name let me know)

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OKAY YALL HEAR ME OUT

Ik he bullies Logan but his design is just 🙏🛐

On my knees fr (i might have a type)

Anyway! You guys would be somewhere at the arcade with his friends probably and he would just call you to the back of the arcade where ppl smoke

He would flirt with you sm, kissing from your forehead, down to your jawline and then neck

Tbh I think he would be a bit experienced with this shit

Would be a pretty good kisser like a solid 8/10

Would fr pin you against a wall and all that kind of shit when one of his friends wanted to go smoke and saw you guys

Barron would fr kiss you deeper like he ain’t ashamed of you tf

Would just flip the guy off while kissing you

His friend knew better then to stay and quickly went back inside, deciding it was a good day to save his lungs LMAO

“Barron um, he.. kind of saw us?”

“What? Am I not allowed to make out with my s/o?”

“But I thought you—”

“I’m not ashamed of you, you’re gorgeous~ Let them be jealous.”

Barron you fucking bi—

He would rub it in when you guys come back to the group

He have your hand in his or a hand on your waist

Would kiss your cheek in front of his friends (would fr be smirking at the mf that interrupted you)

Just Barron doing Barron things

#ashlyn sbg x reader #ashlyn banner #ashlyn sbg #school bus graveyard ashlyn #ashlyn banner x reader #sbg ben clark #ben sbg x reader #ben clark sbg #ben clark x reader #sbg ben #barron sbg #barron school bus graveyard #sbg barron #sbg barron x reader #school bus graveyard fanfiction #school bus graveyard x reader #school bus graveyard

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itsoutrageouss · 2 years

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Angst eddie fic where the reader is new maybe they sit at the clubs table unintentionally, and eddie comes off as rude or pushy and unknowingly hurts the readers feelings getting them to avoid the whole table and the next day eddie apologizes after finding them in the woods crying-🍒

a/n: poor eddie would feel so bad after having hurt your feelings like that </3

words: 1k ish- idk bro

warnings: just angst, little unintentional mean!eddie, reader gets embarrassed/feels humiliated

damn prejudice - e. m.

damn prejudice series: part ii // part iii

—☕️

The cafeteria was huge- at least to you. Your old school didn’t even have one, just picnic tables outside, not to say groups and cliques weren’t something anyone bothered themselves with in such a small school.

Hawkins High was different. Albeit Hawkins not being a huge place it was definitely bigger than what you were used to, and you were overwhelmed to say the least.

That’s probably why you didn’t notice the matching shirts of everyone at the table you chose to join. You didn’t even give it second thought that maybe this was an exclusive group, that maybe social status was an actual thing here.

In general, you could be quite oblivious. There fell a tense silence over the table when you sat down, and all eyes of hellfire club turned to Eddie for a reaction. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you calmly like he was waiting for you to realize just where you had chosen to sit.

You on the other hand was just poking at your food, assessing the lunch menu if you will. It took you a minute or two to register the dead silence that befell only where you sat and not anywhere else.

That’s when you looked up, eyes scanning the people around you until they landed on the face right next to you at the end of the table; big, brown doe eyes that ogled you in a slightly cold manner. You felt your insides freeze along with his stare- how had you already managed to do something wrong?

“What do you think you’re doing?” His eyes narrowed as he slowly chewed his food in an over exaggerated manner. His tone wasn’t necessarily rude as much as it was filled with suspicion.

“Eating.. lunch?” You replied, more a question than an answer. Your breaths were shorter and faster than before, a sudden unwanted heat wrapping around your body in embarrassment. No one at the table dared say anything.

Usually Eddie was welcome to the newbies at Hawkins- he was known for collecting lost sheep. But someone as pretty as you couldn’t possibly be here by your own will; had the cheer squad sent you to mess with him? That had to be it

Well, he wasn’t gonna fucking fall for it.

“Yeahh, nice try,” he dragged out his words, twirling an apple in his hand. You got a feeling that he had a sense for the dramatics.

“I think you got better things to do than hang around here sweetheart. We bite,” he bit out into the air towards you, his teeth making a loud clank as they did, his hands gripping the table to lean over you. It made you jump backwards, nearly toppling over on your seat. Someone next to you chuckled; it was safe to say you felt humiliated.

Eddie laughed at you teasingly, which might have made your heart flutter under different circumstances, but now you only saw it as condescending- there was something cold in the expression he wore .

In eddies eyes he was being very just. You were new, had probably been hauled in by the cheer squad at first glance and now they had sent you on your first mission to be a true popular Hawkins high menace. Going after the freaks.

Your hands were shaking as you looked around. More unknown faces had turned to where you sat and either laughed meanly or glared at you. You didn’t feel welcome at all.

Quickly you scrambled off the bench and grabbed you lunch tray.

“That’s right, scurry off Princess,” Eddie said, feeling like he had won this little battle that was apparently all in his head. Your eyes were wide and glassy, and the milk on your tray fell to the ground with a thud due to you shaky hands.

Eddie raised his brows at that, suddenly unsure why you would be this nervous if his theory was right. Before he could ponder it, you were hurrying down the hall and out of the cafeteria- not to Jason’s table like he expected.

Shit, maybe you actually were just new and trying to make friends. Eddie would be the last person to reject anyone who felt like an outsider, especially someone as pretty as you.

He didn’t see you for the rest of the day though, still unsure wether or not his cruelty had simply been cruel or purposeful.

—☕️

Maybe you had just been incredibly naive but you did not expect to spend your second day at Hawkins high on the outskirt woods of the school— crying. You had avoided the hellfire club the remainder of yesterday and this morning, especially the boy who you found out to be named Eddie. The humiliation still crept up on you whenever someone glared at you in the halls, making your cheeks flush and palms sweaty.

You were never going to make any friends. The boy who you thought the coolest in the whole school had been mean to you and you had no idea how you were gonna last your whole senior year here. The slim, naked trees of the woods blurred together as hot tears fell down your cheeks, but you angrily wiped them away.

You were lost in thought when you heard rustling right ahead. You peered up nervously to see no one other than Eddie stepping into the little clearing at the picnic table.

After yesterday, when Jason had made fun of the fact that even Eddie rejected the new girl it became clear to him that he was all in the wrong. You were new and alone at had chosen his table to sit at- something that had never happened in hellfires history. The guilt had wrenched him from falling asleep last night and he had spent the whole morning trying to find you -at first he begged Dustin and Mike to apologise from him, since he was too nervous to do it himself- but he knew he had to be the one.

He felt the remorse once again twist in his heart when he saw your small figure curled together on the picnic bench, your tears staining the wood a darker shade. “Hey, uh,” he began, his hands out in front of him like he was trying to tame a wild animal. His tone was gentle and soft, very unlike yesterday.

“Your name’s y/n, right?” He asked with a small polite smile, to show you he wasn’t here to embarrass you again. You didn’t fall for it though, and clutched your knees tighter to your chest, merely giving him a small nod in return with a blank expression.

He sat down in front of you carefully, like any fast movement would make you run and hide.

“So now you wanna sit at the same table as me? Don’t you have better things to do?” It slipped out of you before you could stop it. It wasn’t like you to talk back but you were thoroughly blaming Eddie for your first day failure at this point.

“Yeah no, I uh- I deserve that” he snickered remorsefully. You only glared at him, waiting for whatever his purpose with you now was.

“Listen I’m really sorry about yesterday. I thought-“ he began, realising now how stupid he had been- especially when he saw the memory resurface in your eyes, now adorning fresh tears.

“I thought the basket team had sent you over to mock us or some shit. I didn’t realize you were being genuine, hanging out with the damned and all,” he huffed, trying to seem serious but light at the same time.

Your brows furrowed in question. “Why would you think that?” Your lower lip quivered and Eddie felt an urge to press his thumb against it to soothe you- he obviously didn’t, the boy barely knew you. He cursed himself for thinking like that when he was trying to apologise

“I don’t know. Cause you’re pretty-“ he cursed himself once again- way to go buddy. “anyways I’m the last person who should be carrying prejudice about anyone. I’m sorry for being mean to you, sweetheart.”

You looked at him again, those brown eyes big and pleading. He looked entirely different than yesterday, cheeks slightly flushed from blushing, eyes curious and lips quirked in a soft, nervous smile. He was quite endearing, you thought. And he called you pretty.

You wiped your eyes in a failed attempt to hide your crying. Eddie wasn’t even gonna touch on the fact that he made you cry your first week here- he felt awful.

“You’re welcome at hellfire anytime, I promise you.” His hand slightly reached over the table as a sort of olive branch, but he retracted it again in fear of looking stupid.

“Hellfire?” You asked, taking note of his hand now nervously tapping the surface of the wooden table.

“Yeah, y’know.. you didn’t see the t-shirts?” He asked with a teasing smile; but a kind one this time. You shook your head with a dry chuckle, rolling your eyes at you own obliviousness once again.

“We’re a DnD club. Some of us play music, too,” you listened intently to everything he said, your eyes as big and curious as his whenever he talked. How the hell had he managed to be mean to someone like you?

“I’ve played a little DnD at my old school. Have a guitar too,” you added softly, glad to have something in common with him. He lit up at your words.

“You’ll have to show me, one day. You could join the campaign I’m starting too, next week if you’d like?” He asked, still somehow nervous that you’d now reject him.

Instead you nodded enthusiastically, reaching for his hand and placing yours on top of it.

Maybe senior year wasn’t gonna be so bad, after all.

— next part ☕️

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thedreamlessnights · 5 months

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Hi! I’ve got a request for Astarion and Dark Urge Tav. Like they got together through act 1 and 2 and confessed their feelings for each other, but when they go to see Gortash become Arch Duke Tav realizes that she used to be lovers with Gortash before her memory was wiped. Queue angst and hurt/comfort and fluff and hhhhh Gortash loses plssss

I absolutely loved this concept and had so much fun writing it! Dark Urge's route changed me as a person, and I honestly feel like it's a perfect match for Astarion. Thank you so much for sending this in, and I hope you enjoy!

Aching (Astarion x F!Reader - Dark Urge)

Warnings: Major spoilers for Act III of Baldur's Gate - particularly for the Dark Urge playthrough. Mentions of blood, killing, death, and suicidal ideation. Dark Urge being Dark Urge. Hurt/comfort, self-loathing, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 4.6k

Like so many other things, the sight of Lord Enver Gortash tugs at a painful spot in your skull.

You’ve come to differentiate them: the gaping, aching tug of your lost memories and the sharp, swift yank of the tadpole. Somehow, his presence pulls at both of them in equal measure. There’s something on the edge of your tongue, but it won’t be said. A memory behind your eyes, but it won’t be seen.

One thing is clear enough - you know this man. For better or worse, the two of you have met before.

Karlach clears her throat behind you, and you return to yourself: not lost in the dark void of your memories, not consumed by the itch for blood. Wyrm’s Crossing.

Gods, you’d nearly forgotten. You’re in the middle of a throne room, surrounded by dozens of people, here for the coronation. Wyll’s father stands in the center of the room, all but a meat puppet under the Absolute’s control.

The Absolute, which Gortash is a part of.

The soon-to-be Archduke sees you, and something shifts in his gaze. His expression softens. Given all the trouble you’ve been causing for him, that expression comes as a shock - but what he says next is jarring to your core.

“Dearest patriars, but a moment,” he requests. “I must greet a most important guest.” He strolls toward you, arms spread wide as he steps forward, and smiles. “Crawling back from her bloody disgrace - it’s my favorite assassin! Gods, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

And suddenly, you are two pieces of a whole. One longs to step forward, knowing him, wanting him. The other longs for nothing more than to jolt away from him - from the misery you know he’s been causing. Not only to you, or even Karlach, but to your home; Baldur’s Gate.

“Hang on,” Karlach says. “What? You know each other?”

As if you could have possibly known that. As if you’d been willfully keeping it from her. As if your amnesia is a silent betrayal.

“We have important matters to address,” Gortash says dismissively. “My reunion with Karlach can wait.”

Gods, it��s all too much. You’re trying to think, but your mind is swimming in front of your eyes. Your skull throbs. Your heart thuds unevenly in your chest. Something in you is fundamentally disrupted.

“Don’t talk to me,” you manage to spit out. “Talk to her.”

After all, she deserves it. Ten years in Avernus, a flaming engine in her chest, a slow, painful oncoming death that none of you can prevent - or at least, not while she’s refusing to go back to the hells. She deserves a talk with the man who betrayed her. More than anything.

But Gortash won’t be swayed so easily, it seems. “No offense to my old friend,” he says, not even bothering to look at Karlach, “but it’s you I have been dying to see. After all, you abandoned us some time ago, leaving a rather uncomfortable hole in our plans.”

Fond. His expression is unmistakably fond.

You don’t know what plans he’s talking about, though. What to say to him? Should you treat him like a friend, exploit his familiarity down to the hilt for the sake of the information you might obtain? Should you be honest and find out more of your lost self? Do you even want to?

As it turns out, it doesn’t matter what you’re planning to say. Gortash sees your face, and that’s enough. “Oh, I’d forgotten,” he remarks, “your memories are quite lost, aren’t they? Orin told me she’d made a fool of you.”

Orin. A picture flashes in front of your mind. Warm blood, oozing from a gash in your head, streaming down into your eyes. A sharp, fierce tug of betrayal that digs into your chest, sours in your mouth like milk.

Then, another image. A recent memory: Orin. A gruesome suit of skin. A bloodthirsty tongue. The Netherstone in hand.

But Gortash is still talking.

“To think you and Karlach traveled together all this time, and she hadn’t the faintest you were one of my nearest and dearest,” he’s saying.

Karlach tenses, and you suddenly feel sick. Your hands go slick with sweat, and you can feel, not see but feel, the others silently fuming behind you.

All of this is adding up to one big, horrific picture. A conclusion you despise but can’t deny. Something affectionate in your chest. The admiration in his gaze. The way he’d greeted you. Nearest and dearest.

Lovers. You and Gortash were lovers.

The walk back to camp is the most painful of your life - that you can recall, at least. You’d rather be feral again, tied up like an animal on your bedroll, attempting to bite Astarion.

Part of you wishes you’d decimated Gortash the moment you’d laid eyes on him. If you had, all of this could have been avoided. The swirling guilt in your stomach for something you don’t even remember. The sting of reproof from nearly every single one of your companions. The betrayal in their eyes.

You’d done this. All of it. The Absolute, the march on the city, the tadpole now squirming around in your brain. You and Gortash had planned this out, and now you’ve fallen victim to it.

It seems like a disconnected idea, a person you can’t imagine being. The further you go on, the less you recognize your old self. The more you despise it.

Gale had certainly chewed you out. Karlach isn’t talking to you. Gods, even Shadowheart is angry. Shadowheart, who should know more than anyone else what this is like.

Astarion, at least, doesn’t seem as upset as the others. He’s liked his tadpole for the most part. Is some odd part of him grateful for your role in this? For the power it’s given him? You can’t tell.

You should be able to tell, shouldn’t you?

When the silence becomes unbearable, you grab a bottle of Berduskan Dark as a peace offering and join him at his tent, crawling through the entrance and sprawling yourself over his various pillows. “Do you hate me tonight, too?” you ask lightly.

He raises a brow and rolls one of his shoulders, feigning annoyance. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing and casual. “It’s not often I find out the woman I’m with is behind a horrible, malicious scheme to control an elder brain.”

Your words of penance fall flat even before they’ve touched your tongue, so you pour him a glass of wine in response.

He smiles. “Trying to win me over, darling?” he asks, tilting his head. “You’ve caused quite the commotion around camp, you know. Gale is positively furious.”

That sensation of guilt comes again, but this time, it’s overpowering. It makes you want to crumple in on yourself, to erase the horrid, evil parts of you that are left like bloodstains on a white shirt; things that won’t be scrubbed away, present and never-escapable.

“I didn’t know,” you start, firmly but barely kept together. “I swear, I had no idea-”

“Relax, dearest,” Astarion says. “As you know, me and the tadpole are the best of friends. No need to explain.” He pauses. “Although,” he says, suddenly becoming very interested in inspecting the brim of his glass, “you and Gortash seemed to be old friends, too.”

You know what he’s asking you, and you don’t have it in yourself to lie to him. Instead, you slowly nod, pouring yourself a glass of the wine, too. Gods, do you need it.

“We were lovers, I think,” you finally answer. “I can’t remember anything about it, but… the way he talked to me. It seemed like we were more than friends.”

He pulls a face. “Well. I certainly hope he won’t be serving as my competition. You can do so much better.”

You stare at him: the sudden tension in his shoulders, the pasted-on, confident smile that plays on his lips, the dark glint to his gaze.

“You’re jealous.”

He scoffs. “Jealous?” he exclaims, laughing a little. “Of course I’m not jealous. Honestly - it’s hilarious. A Bhaalspawn and Bane’s chosen. In another life, I would have been rooting for the two of you.”

But there’s a crease between his brows, and he won’t quite look at you. You reach out for his hand, and his expression softens. He playfully rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand all the same. “And what is our vicious little mastermind thinking about?” he asks, leaning toward you.

“I’m thinking,” you say, “that Lord Gortash could never compare to you.”

“Oh?” he asks, moving in a little further. He loves preening for compliments, and you love treating him to them. “Do go on, dearest.”

You trail your thumb over his knuckles. “Well, he’s clearly nowhere near as handsome as you are.”

Astarion tilts his head. “Of course he isn’t. The man couldn’t hope to compare with a… world-endingly handsome vampire.” He squeezes your hand, lifting a brow. “Anything else?”

You can’t help smiling now. “His taste in clothing is awful. Didn’t you see his boots?” you ask. “Tacky.”

He scowls. “I did. Horrendous, honestly. And at his coronation, no less,” he remarks, tutting. “Well. I’m glad to see your standards have improved, darling.”

“As am I.” You take a sip of your wine, swirling it in your hand, enjoying the feel of Astarion’s grasp in the other.

With him, you can almost forget the worst parts of yourself. The others, as much as you love them, only make your crimes seem so much worse. There’s a constant forgiveness sought with each conversation, a debt you can never repay that lingers underneath the way they see you. But not with him.

He mirrors you. He sees you. What you really are, not what you were, not the echo of your old life. All your past grievances, well… those don’t matter to him. Everything you’ve done, he considers himself worse.

Part of you thinks - if the two of you actually make it through, that is - that bit by bit, you may actually heal. Maybe, you’ll actually have a life with him beyond the tadpoles, and beyond Baldur’s Gate. Maybe, the two of you will build something far beyond those who once controlled you.

And then the night comes.

You leave Astarion in his tent to trance, telling him you mean to sleep even though you have no intention of doing so. You never rest well, but it’s aggravated, lately. The Urge is always at its worst during the night. The shadows reflect your darkest self back at you, and your fingers itch for blood. Your mind becomes a haze of gore. Your teeth fix on a tender part of your cheek and press down until you taste iron.

You’d like to say that this part of you is a clean split from the other - that it’s easy to tell where the Urge ends and you begin - but it’s not. Your thoughts so often drift. You’d been the one feeling that sickening sense of satiation when Alfira lay dead at your feet, her blood drying on your skin. And it’s you who feels a strange tug toward Gortash - some lingering yearning that won’t be scrubbed away.

And you try. Gods, do you try. You take a rag and sit at the river and rub until your skin is raw, trying to get the metaphorical blood off your hands, trying to cleanse yourself of the want that pulls at your chest when Gortash slips into your thoughts.

But it doesn’t work. It doesn’t work at all.

The way you want Astarion feels different. It’s grounded. Natural. Being around him feels as easy as breathing. Gortash, though: there’s something so very strong there, something ripened with time and obsessive, almost. Something that wants him no matter what you tell yourself.

You want to win this. You want to look at the faces around camp and tell them that their faith in you is not misplaced; that you are capable of what they want you to be. You’re more than the monster in your thoughts. When you’d resisted killing Isobel and Astarion despite your butler’s commands, you’d thought there was a chance for that to happen - for you to become something outside of your murderous tendencies.

Now, you’re not so sure.

Your role in the creation of the Absolute has changed things. This feels… unforgivable. Not that Alfira’s death wasn’t already unforgivable, not that you haven’t already sinned enough, but… it’s tallying up to a truly heinous amount of perversion that you can’t fathom anyone here tolerating, much less accepting. Astarion, maybe, but he deserves better than this.

You’ve already tremendously ruined things, and on top of that, you find out you were responsible for turning all of the people you care about into thralls?

It’s enough to shake you to your core. Enough to sow doubt in your mind, spreading like a slow poison through the veins of your thoughts, slowly choking them away, slowly consuming you.

You really might lose.

Gods, are you strong enough to win the long-fought battle against yourself? Do you have it in you to completely turn away from your past? You won’t give in without a fight, of course, but what chance do you have against Bhaal when he’s in your very mind, rooting himself into every inch of you?

In the days, you have hope, but in the nights, when you’re alone, you feel certain you’re doomed. That perhaps, this side of you will take over, and you’ll be absolutely helpless to stop it.

The true question is this: when the darkness takes over, will you still exist; forever trapped in the body you once had control over? Or will Bhaal’s presence ravage you, body and soul, and leave nothing of the thing you once were?

You really can’t decide which is worse.

You’re used to your hands shaking, by now. Your fingers have often trembled around the hilt of your blade, itching to drive your knife deep into sweet, bleeding flesh.

This is different.

It’s fear that takes your body, not the Urge. Fear that compels you, not Bhaal. Are you afraid to lose to Orin, or afraid of what you might become?

Astarion stands behind you, observant but tense. The two of you have come so far now that it almost seems foolish to think of losing. He’d defeated Cazador. He’d resisted the Ascension. If he’d found it in himself to turn away from his darkness, can’t you?

Yet, some part of you still thinks you might disappoint him. Some part of you still fears the monster that lies within yourself.

Astarion rests a hand on your shoulder, knowing you all too well. “You can do this,” he says, lightly squeezing. “I know you can.”

And the sheer, beautiful belief in his eyes - belief in you - is enough to have a little hope again. Not much, but some. You can do this.

You step into the center of the circle, hands around your blade, and you believe.

It all goes by in a blur.

Orin is a viper, tightening her strokes around you, striking fast and hard. Her movements are rapid and graceful, her dance lithe and experienced. Even in her slayer form, there’s a deadly beauty to her actions. Every slash, every wound she inflicts on your skin, is a vicious reminder that she’s nothing but practiced in this regard.

Perhaps she’s forgotten, but you are, too. And, this time, your pride doesn’t blind you to the threat she poses.

Your body moves instinctively; for once, you let the Urge guide you freely. You leap out of the way of her claws, dig your blade into her side. When the scent of blood hits the air, you rejoice. When you feel pain, you bask in it.

Flashes of your past echo in front of your eyes - being in the pod, blood gushing into your eyes. You remember the agony of her betrayal, the fear as you’d smashed your skull into the glass again and again and again. Anything to escape what she’d done.

It’s despair that takes over you, not fear. It’s your fury that deals the final blow, not the Urge. And when Orin finally falls, your blade in her ribs up to the hilt, you feel no relief, no satiation.

Only grief. Nothing but grief.

You don’t know what you mourn for - your old self? The life she’d robbed you of? No - no, you despise your past. You despise who you were. So what tugs at your chest this tenderly? What force brings you to your knees?

For just a moment, you almost forget about Bhaal.

Of course, he won’t be forgotten - not here, not in his own domain. Not when you’re his creation. Sceleritas Fel is in front of you, applauding your victory, calling you the Chosen One.

“He is near,” he says. “He comes for you.”

Fear flutters through your chest. Bhaal’s Chosen. It tempts you, even now. The Urge has slithered into the very heart of you, kept somewhere in your ribs, so dark and alluring that you can barely breathe.

It salivates at the sight of the blade slicing through your butler’s chest, sways at the sight of his blood. His body rises, limp and lifeless, and it’s all you can do to stare, still breathless from the fight, still silently devastated, as more blades cut through the skin one by one - impaling him until his blood seeps onto the stone below; dark, crimson liquid shining over the cold floor.

And in his reflection, you find Bhaal.

He is everything you’ve felt in the Urge and more - the sweet whispers of death in your ear. He’s the honeyed tone that compels you to serve him, compels you to bring forth destruction in his name. In chaos, he triumphs, and in blood, he revels.

This is a gift. An offering to you, his Chosen.

You could accept. You could stop fighting against your destiny, against this thing you were born to become. You could do what he asks, and wreak beautiful havoc on this world. You’re exhausted. Every muscle in your body aches - not from Orin, but from this never-ending fight against yourself.

How strong you could become, remedied of these burdens. How well you would please your father. It would be so easy. All you’d have to do is accept…

And then you see Astarion.

His face is paler than usual, a tension in his shoulders, a quiet exhaustion in his eyes. You see him now, as he is, and you see him as he was in the ritual chamber: the temptation of power right beneath his grasp, begging to be taken. He’d sacrificed so much. The light of the sun on his face. The relief of hunger. The burial of his shame. All of these, he’d refused, but he’s finally free. He wants that for you, and you want it, too.

No matter the cost.

So you refuse. You look Bhaal in the eye and refuse his gift, knowing what it will mean for you. And when he threatens your life, you refuse again. No matter the cost, you think. Death is freedom in its own way.

The sudden agony that wracks through your body is unlike any you’ve ever known. It boils through your blood, singes body and soul, brings down you to your knees with the very force of it. Your chest seems to cave in on itself, expelling your inheritance to Bhaal with every beat of your heart.

Even when he lifts a hand and raises you into the air, you feel crushed - suffocated. Your teeth grind against each other, your skull throbs in agonzing waves, blood flows steadily over your tongue. Your heart slows, your essence fades. Sharp, blinding pain overtakes your vision until all that’s left of you is the shallow, scraping breath in your lungs.

All at once, everything fades, and you’re left in darkness.

And in the darkness, there is finally peace.

Being revived feels like a cruelty. Death is sweet and calm and simple. Emptiness. Oblivion. It is silent, and you are grateful.

Until you’re not.

You’re not, because you’re no longer dead. Something rips you from your painless sense of stillness - throws you back into the misery of life. You fight against it, but it’s pointless; you have no say in this, and it will take you where it desires.

You find yourself in flesh again, find the familiar sensation of your tender skin. You find yourself before Withers, bruised and broken, but reborn.

He’s a sight for sore eyes, but there’s something else that lies in your chest. A silence that hasn’t been there since… since before you’d woken up on the nautiloid, confused and alone, not a memory to be found aside from meaningless scraps and a face you didn’t recognize.

The Urge is gone. All that’s left is you.

It feels empty.

This should feel heroic, this return of yours that leaves you panting with the throes of death, covered in blood and on your knees. You’re back, you’re alive, and gods, you’re glad to see your friends and your lover, but it’s empty.

You deserved to die, didn’t you? It was your horrible knowledge, the one you kept tucked away even from Astarion. That never-ending guilt. After your crimes, after all the horrid things you’ve done with these hands, this body, before you’d lost your memory - you’d most certainly deserved to be put down.

You don’t dare look at Astarion, but you look at Withers. Surely, he must know what you are. Surely, he must know what you’ve done.

“I deserve to die,” you tell him, your voice shaking as much as your body. “For all the evil I have done.”

Withers stares at you, his expression unchanged. “The sole way to atone for thine actions is to do better, in a new dawn,” he says - and gods, he smiles. He’s proud of you, you realize. Proud of your resistance. “That dawn has come,” he announces.

And if he will not be swayed, you suppose you won’t, either. You’re alive, whether you like it or not. Whatever pieces are left of you and the life you might live, you’ll put them together. You’ve done it before, and you’ll do it again.

The important thing is that you’re finally free.

“Bhaal tried to extinguish thee,” Wither observes, “but his wrath is imprecise. He only succeeded in killing the part of thee he knew. The Urge that drove thee to terrible acts. The spark of brutality that made thee his. But there is a new part of you that hath grown during thy travels. That part, Bhaal could not extinguish. And so, instead of destroying thee, he hath made thee anew.”

“You get to start over,” Astarion says. He gazes at you, a mixture of leftover fear and relief and care. “To be the person you want to be. Not what someone else made you to be.”

And gods - even in the worst of yourself, you know that he sees you - wants you, all the same. If you’re at his side, you’re sure you can do anything.

“Greet the bloodless dawn, child of none,” Withers says, and for once in the shabby remembrance of your life, the guilt that haunts you finally sweeps away.

Gortash knows you’re coming, you think. After your stint at the Iron Throne and the foundry that now lies in ash, he must. Your memories are mostly lost to the aether, but you do know this - he’s no fool.

Still, when you see him again, there’s that strange, leftover twinge of your past. It’s dead now; whatever warmth there was in his presence has become ice. Your old self has died along with your Urge, rotted away like your need for blood. After all, the part of you he cared for was maniacal. Brutal. Not as bad as Orin, perhaps, but deranged. It sickens you to know he cared for someone like that, when you’ve despised yourself so.

It sickens you even more to know that he knows no guilt for his actions. How much have you suffered over your own deeds? How often have you awoken in sweat, drenched from head to toe with the fleeting remnant of your past deeds tainting your mind?

And here he is, smug and so sure - of himself, of this path, of Bane. And he knows no regret, or guilt, he makes no apologies. A part of you may have once loved him, but no more. Whatever he’d once seen in you, it no longer remains.

You wonder if he can tell. After all you’ve done to him, after the havoc you’ve wreaked on his plan, does he realize that the person he cared for no longer exists? He seems not to. Not until Karlach launches at him and you draw your blade, willing to kill when it’s necessary but not craving an ounce of blood more.

The fight is long and brutal, but it’s familiar. You have your friends at your side, people you trust even more than yourself. It flies by in a blur, only ending when Karlach’s axe sinks into Gortash’s gut and he crumples to his knees, letting out a final rush of air before he goes still.

Like so many other events, this should feel triumphant, but it doesn’t. Like so many other things, this isn’t fair. Gortash is gone, yes, nothing more than a body on a floor, but there’s no celebration, no relief.

Karlach has gotten her revenge, but she will never get her life back. She will never regain what he took from her.

You have the Netherstones, yes. But gods - that doesn’t stop the sickening feeling deep inside.

You head home with nothing but grief and an aching body, your hand held tight in Astarion’s, and you finally allow yourself to fully mourn the life you’d lived - the things you’d done, and the people who no longer live because of you.

With Gortash finally gone, the air of the camp changes. You’re so close to your goal, but there’s an underlying tension that fills the air. It has you making your way to Astarion, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his neck.

He holds you close, his thumb trailing over the nape of your neck, and the action slackens the tension out of your muscles.

“So,” he starts, “how are you feeling, now that your old lover is gone?”

You huff, shaking your head. The action brushes your nose with his skin, and you can smell him all over you. The warmth of brandy, the sharpness of rosemary. “I don’t remember any of it,” you say, words soft. “I… don’t really feel anything.”

You recall his numbness after Cazador. Dame Aylin’s emptiness after smiting down Larroakan. Karlach’s grief after killing Gortash. Even after your fight with Orin, there hadn’t really been relief. Just… a sense of loss.

He gently takes your face in his hands.

You’re scared, really. You’re so close to succeeding, so close to getting the tadpole out of your mind, and yet, you’re terrified out of your wits. What the hells are you supposed to do, now that failing holds the most weight?

“Do you really think we’ll win this?” you ask him. Your fear slips into your voice and breaks it, and you wince.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I don’t know about you, darling, but I have no intention of dying again.” He presses his lips to your forehead, the gentle touch soothing away your fear. “We’ll get through this. Trust me.”

And, despite the fear, the pain, the loss - despite every curve that life continually throws at you, every defeat you muster through, you know he’s right.

You’ll get through this; just like you always do.

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #astarion x dark urge #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

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aliensupastar · 1 year

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not wrong, but not right

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: You do your best to keep your head down at your job. When that doesn't work, Carmy's there for you anyways.

Part II Part III

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, depiction of an eating disorder, vent fic, fainting, hospitals, slightly one-sided romantic feelings?

A/N: PLEASE mind the warnings! as mentioned, this is a vent fic with a reader that has an eating disorder. mostly made for my own comfort/self-indulgence, but i thought i’d post it anyways. title inspired by "ode to the mets" by the strokes, gif by heardchef <3

All things considered, your job could be worse. Honestly, you feel like you lucked out a bit, your hiring process being expedited due to Marcus being the one to recommend you to his boss, given that they needed new workers for their newly opened restaurant — you knew it was a good idea to stay in touch with that guy after high school.

Working front-of-house with Richie could get overwhelming, to say the least. Dealing with him your first few weeks took a lot of adjustment, and a lot of holding back from calling him every foul name in the book. But it all smoothened out eventually. Your coworkers were nice, the pay was decent, the train ride was short. And your boss… well, it didn’t hurt that your boss was nice to look at.

You’re a little embarrassed by it. You spend a little too much time looking at him when you’re supposed to be focused on your prep, and you always stop by the back office to say goodnight before you clock out, but you think you’ve kept it subtle enough to go unnoticed. You’ve gotten a little too good at that, going unnoticed.

“Need me to do anything else before I head out?” You lean against the doorway of the tiny office as you say it, backpack already on and your jacket draped over your arms. Carmy’s sitting in his desk chair, bent over some paperwork and looking a little surprised at your question.

“Uh, no, we’re good here. But if you wanna stick around for a bit, Syd and I are makin’ something out of the food we were gonna have to throw out tonight, you could take some of it home with you. Save time on dinner.” He offers with a small smile. You hate the temptation that immediately springs up in you, because you want so badly to take him up on it. The smell of food in the kitchen is always mouthwatering, and when Carmy’s making dishes instead of being on expo, it somehow smells even better.

You’ve never even tried Carmy’s cooking. You work for one of the most excellent chefs in the country, and you can’t even answer with an honest opinion when people ask you if the food at the restaurant is good.

Despite all that, you shake your head, using the excuse of wanting to catch your train before it gets dark out, and he takes that easily.

“Heard.” He nods, looking like he might want to say more. “Well, thank you, for showin’ up today. You were great.”

“Thank you, chef.” You reply, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the praise. “Goodnight, Carm.”

Before you can change your mind, you turn and walk away, clocking out quickly, but you still hear him say “Night!” from behind you.

When you make it onto a train car, safely on your way back to your apartment, you finally let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Maybe some other day, you think to yourself. It’ll be worth it to try the food some other day.

It had been one incident. That’s what you swore to yourself: one incident, one slip up, and it would never happen again. Besides, you think — or rather, hoped — Carmy’s forgotten about it. It was months ago, and things moved quickly in the restaurant, no time to dwell on things, especially not for the guy who has to run it.

You’d gone out to the back alley of The Bear for a short break. You’d seen the others do it a million times, mostly for smoke breaks, but you didn’t need a cigarette. You needed to sit down, give yourself a chance to catch your breath as your vision started to swim and your ears felt like they had been filled with cotton. And, well, usually you didn’t need breaks like that, usually you didn’t allow yourself to take them like the others did, but there was a lull between the lunch and dinner rush and Richie didn’t need your help in the front, so you quietly slipped out the back door while hastily putting your coat on. Just this once, you let yourself slump against the wall, sliding down until you were sat on the pavement. You don’t even remember your consciousness fading, just your heartbeat thrumming in your ears while your eyes slipped shut.

Carmy found you like that. He had barely noticed your extended absence, too busy catching up on more paperwork in his office before the dinner crowd poured in, and he decided he needed a smoke. It had almost startled him when he finally did notice you sitting there, your presence so quiet it took him a few seconds, before he also noticed you were asleep. He couldn’t blame you for that. He could use a fuckin’ nap these days.

Still, he walked over and leaned down, nudging your shoulder with his hand to rouse you, muttering a quiet “hey.” But you didn’t wake, not even after a couple more pokes. And then he started to worry.

When you came to, it was because of Carmy’s hands on both your cheeks, gently patting your face, his blue eyes wide with panic. You flinched a bit, startling at the realisation of what you'd done, swearing under your breath, and that was enough for Carmy to step back.

“You okay?” He asked, and you nodded quickly on instinct.

“I’m- fine. Yeah, I’m okay.” You stumbled over your assurance, knowing he didn’t quite believe you from the way he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“What are you doing out here? You’re freezin’.” You bite your lip, embarrassed at being caught a bit red-handed, unconscious with your body temperature dropping. You’re usually better than that. Better at hiding behind smiles, concealer over your dark under-eyes, and excuses of being more of a big breakfast person to get out of eating family meals with the rest of your coworkers every afternoon.

“Just tired. I’m fine.” You reply, hoping that’d be enough of an excuse, because everyone here is a little exhausted all the time. You pull yourself to your feet once he stands up from crouching in front of you, trying to convince him to just brush it off. “I'm good to keep going.”

You almost think that he buys that, before he stares at you a little bit longer, and you try not to shrink under his gaze.

“People who are fine usually don’t take five minutes to wake up.” He says. You don’t have a comeback.

“Yes, chef,” is the only thing you can say as you turn and walk back into the kitchen quickly, avoiding eye contact with him and making it through the rest of the day without needing another break, and without giving him a chance to talk to you again before you clock out that day. You don’t even stop by the office to say goodnight.

It was months ago, one time, and it wasn’t supposed to happen again. Not at work, not in the middle of a rush. That was just your luck, you guess, that you would get caught up working front-of-house, running between taking orders with Richie and handing out plates whenever you heard somebody yelling “Hands!” in the back, all while you hadn’t had anything more than water and a coffee in the morning in… fuck, you lost count of the days again.

You pause to take deep breaths and sips of water when you can, but you guess it wasn’t often enough, because one second you’re picking up plates from the expo station and the next you’re collapsing, taking the dishes with you.

When you wake up in a hospital bed afterwards, Carmy’s there. Slumped over in a plastic chair that can’t be comfortable, clad in a familiar checkered wool jacket. He’s asleep, but he’s here, and you don’t have the heart to wake him. You have no idea how long you’ve been out, but your heart fills with equal parts guilt and gratitude at the fact that he’s likely been sat by your side for hours.

You turn your attention away from Carmy for a second, taking in the rest of your surroundings. The cotton hospital gown, the uncomfortably firm mattress beneath you, the beeping of an EKG to your left, and to your right-

Your breath catches when you see it. An IV bag, steadily dripping fluid into you through the needle in your arm, innocuous but sinister.

“Shit.” You breathe out. Now you’re panicking. Now you’re cursing yourself for not being able to hold it together long enough to get through a busy hour, and reaching for the bag to get a better look at the text that you hope and pray details it’s nutritional information, but you quickly snatch your hand back when the privacy curtain is peeled away by a nurse checking up on you.

The sound of the curtain rings scraping against metal wakes Carmy, and the nurse smiles apologetically before turning to you and explaining what you already guessed: you're in ketosis, you fainted due to low blood sugar levels and a high-stress environment, you should take it easy and eat when you get home. You’ll be discharged as soon as your IV bag is finished. Fuck. You nod and smile along with everything she says, lying through your teeth about merely skipping breakfast that morning and thanking her for her time until you can get her to leave you alone again.

Well, alone with your boss, who’s silent through the whole conversation.

You wait for a minute after the nurse leaves, before turning to your right and carefully lifting yourself onto your knees to tug the IV bag off its hook and flip it over, desperately scanning the printed text. You can’t even bring yourself to care that Carmy’s there anymore, even when you can feel his eyes on you, witnessing your silent panic. You can’t help it.

You swear under your breath once you find what you’re looking for. When you do the math in your head, it’s- fuck- it’s hundreds of calories that they’re pumping into you. You hang the bag up and sit back, defeated, unable to do anything but fiddle with the thin blanket draped over your legs and curse yourself for not being more careful.

“You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Carmy asks gently after a few minutes, breaking the silence. You don’t know why that question makes your eyes fill with tears, even as you shake your head vehemently.

“Nothing’s going on, Carm. I’m okay.” You tell him, trying to keep your voice neutral. He pauses for a moment, making you think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll drop it.

“I know what ketosis means, chef.” You hate him a little bit for catching on. You were so sure you were flying under the radar, you could’ve kept your habits unnoticed if you had just not fainted again.

“Well, like I said, I skipped breakfast. I didn’t have time this morning.”

“Then why didn’t you eat family with us instead?” He insists.

“Because-“

“Why aren’t you eating, chef?”

You know he’s just concerned, as your boss, he can’t have you passing out at work so much. But you also can’t help the irritation that rises in you at his persistence.

“Fuck you, Carmen,” is all you can come back with, and he scoffs. “I felt weird intruding on family when I never eat with you guys normally. There. I’m sorry me not eating this one time got in the way of my job, it won’t happen again.” You try to explain, but you already know he’ll see through that.

“One time, along with the other time you fainted out back, and all the times you’ve refused to even taste a new dish we’re tryin’ out.” Your head snaps up, and you finally take a real look at him, taken aback by the fact that he would even be bothered to remember all that. He meets your irritation with nothing but softness in his eyes. “Talk to me.” He pleads.

You can’t take it. You tear up again, wanting, needing to fight against the temptation to tell him everything because, God, you don’t know how much more you can take.

“I can’t.” There’s no hiding your emotion anymore, your voice thick with tears. “Carmy- I- I can’t take it.”

“Take what?” He asks, his voice still gentle.

“Any of it!” You’re full on sobbing now, desperately trying to wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” He almost coos, standing to move closer to your bed and wrapping his arms around you, bringing your head to rest on his firm chest, and you let him. You don’t object when his hand moves to pet the back of your head while you gasp for breath through your sobs, and he doesn’t object when your hands land on his back, clinging to the white t-shirt under his coat and relishing in the warmth radiating from him.

He doesn’t push you to say more. He holds you while you calm down, your breath evening out eventually, enough to speak straight.

“I can’t tell you, Carmy.” You finally say, practically whimpering. “I can’t get the help you’ll want me to get, because- I can’t stop. I don’t know how, I- I don’t know another way anymore.”

He doesn’t reply, at first, taking in a deep breath while he lets your words hang in the air.

“Okay.” He says quietly. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” You’re relieved at his acquiescence. You don’t think you can take fighting with your boss on top of everything else you have going on.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

“Can I ask you to promise me something?” He continues, making you pause, before nodding hesitantly. “Let me look out for you. You don’t have to tell me anything, just- don’t keep going at it alone. You’ll just end up back here again. Or, y’know, half-breathing and unconscious in the back alley of my restaurant. Trust me, I know.”

You contemplate his words for a bit. You know he’s right, and you know you don’t want to end up in the hospital again. And maybe you owe him this one thing, for being here, for not pushing you like you expected him to, for not firing you after you interrupted his whole day with your bullshit.

“Okay,” You say. “I promise.” He breathes what you think is a sigh of relief, before leaning down and pressing his lips to the top of your head. You stay like that for a little while longer, silent except for the beeping EKG machine and your occasional sniffle.

“You’re freezing, you know that?” He says suddenly, and it makes you giggle; you haven’t held anyone close in a while, not long enough for them to notice you’re always cold to the touch. You know he’s smiling too, feeling his lips against your hair.

“Lookin’ out for me might mean letting me borrow this jacket every once in a while.”

“I’m okay with that.”

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto angst #hurt/comfort #angst #my writing #the shrimp that fried that rice

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nyxyxx · 5 months

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Godly Desires - Part 2 -

So yeah here's the second part. A little rough but the next few should get more interesting. I. II. III. IV.

As usual this story will contain yandere themes and religious themes so please proceed with caution.

"For you"

An apple? You blinked twice, confused. You hesitantly reached up towards the mitachurl's hand and took the apple in both of yours. After gazing at it for a while, as if looking for permission - you took a bite of the apple. It was delicious. It tasted so real it almost entirely discarded your belief that this was a dream.

You sat in the hilichurl camp there for a while, as they kept gifting you with seemingly random food and materials, but they seemed overjoyed with it regardless. It was an odd feeling. Despite the fact that they were known as dangerous monsters, they showed such kindness to you. You were almost compelled to just live among them for as long as they'd allow you to stay - but you knew you had to keep going.

You had to continue down the path, to find out how exactly you got here, and why. So, after a long time of playing with the hilichurls, you said your goodbyes, and they said goodbye too - or at least you think they were saying goodbye. You weren't exactly the most knowledgable on hilichurlian.

You walked down along the beach, trying to figure out where in Teyvat you could be. It didn't take very long for you to notice the tip of a very recognizable cathedral. So you were in Mondstadt. That made sense, you supposed. It was where the traveler first woke up, so it would make sense that you would appear here too - except you were on the opposite side of Monstadt.

It would take a while for you to reach Mondstadt just by walking, and you weren't even sure what you should do when you got there, but you might as well start now. You turned back towards the hills and kept walking, resting by trees when it got too dark, or hanging out in more hilichurl camps - where they always seemed to welcome your presence.

It was safe to say that you did not go hungry. Though, you could really use a change of clothes. They were starting to feel all gross. You luckily were by a lake, and well - you might as well take this opportunity to bathe and wash those clothes.

You were a little worried about being spotted, but figured you were in a quiet enough area that it was unlikely. Or if it were monsters, you had little fear of being attacked by them. So you carefully stripped down and submerged yourself in the lake, trying to adjust to the cold temperature of the water.

When you were finished washing yourself - you reached back up to the rocks to grab your clothes to wash them as well, only to find that they were gone. Wait...gone??? Panic began to set in as you realized that you were currently naked and stuck in some lake in the middle of nowhere. What were you going to do...?

You stared at the water for a while, tucking yourself as closely to the edge of the water as possible, as you just thought mindlessly over what you were going to do next. That is, until you heard a voice.

"Excuse me, by any chance do these clothes belong to you?" A voice called out, and you instinctively hid yourself lower into the water. "My bad, I don't mean to invade your privacy. I'll just leave these here." The man said, before you listened to his footsteps get more distant. You slowly lifted your head up to look, only to find the man in the distance standing behind a tree, facing the other way, waiting for you.

You looked back to the ground and found your clothes returned, though in a slightly worse condition, but regardless, you hastily threw it all on no matter how wet they were going to get. Once you were done, you ran over to the man in the distance, who slowly turned his head.

"An animal must have stolen them," he began, "I was out for a walk and saw them on the ground by the grape vines. The animal must've left them there after it realized there was no food in them." He smiled.

You were sure you knew who the man was, but that suspicion was only confirmed when you glanced down, and saw the pyro vision hanging from his belt. "...Diluc?"

"Ah right, yes I'm Diluc Ragvindr, at your service." He seemed a little surprised that you knew his name, but internally, his mind was on fire. You, of all people, knew his name. He could barely contain his joy, although it was nearly impossible to tell from the outside.

"Oh. Nice to meet you. Thank you for helping me there." You said, a little taken aback. at your service? what did he mean by that? Regardless, you felt like you might as well thank him for helping you.

"Please do not mind it, I am only doing what should be done." He said, only showing as slight smile. "If you would like to thank me properly, how about I invite you for a drink?" He asked. He hoped you'd say yes.

"Oh sure. Lead the way then." You failed to notice just how exuberant he actually was that you agreed. It has been a while since you've last talked to - or even seen - someone, so you were a little bit lonely. You also figured that you could get some helpful information from him, so you might as well take this opportunity.

soon we're actually gonna get into the more entertaining parts but that's it for now. The next part is gonna have a lot more Diluc which is nice but also terrifies me I'm so not prepared to write him. Taglist @mmeatt; @iamapotatoe; @clavichordcleffa

#sagau cult au #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #diluc x reader #yandere diluc x reader #cw yandere

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purple-babygirl · 11 days

Text

in the far corner of the forest III

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 6,540

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: hand injury, mentions of blood, wound sutures/stitches, angry behaviour, jealousy, fighting, crying, racism against orcs. I think that's all.

A/N: this is the longest part yet because it might take me a while with part 4 depending on how the very important interview i have on the 17th goes. please send me good wishes on the stars if possible i would really appreciate it. And please enjoy this one and let me know what you thought if you can xx💜💜

“I got you something, little human,” Bucky said, his tone softer than it was that same afternoon as he scratched the back of his head.

He was new to courting, and it wasn’t exactly normal that he was courting his already-wife. Still, he was doing everything possible.

Bucky’s life has all been about fighting and wars. He didn’t do love or courtship. He didn’t do coddling or romancing. But there was a first time for everything and he was trying his best.

“Thank you,” she replied without looking up, pretending to be focused on folding laundry.

She was ignoring him.

Bucky had let his voice get loud a couple of hours ago after he had found her lost in the forest again. Only this time her foot was already messed up and she needed the rest, but she wouldn’t listen.

It hurt him how much pain she was willing to go through if it meant she could get away from him, but he wouldn’t let it show.

Instead, he yelled in frustration as he brought her back to their cottage.

She seemed like she wouldn’t quit, and so he wasn’t going to quit either.

Despite her constant rejection, Bucky refused to give up, his determination fueled by a newfound sense of purpose. He was willing to endure anything, face anything, if it meant earning even a glimmer of acceptance, or even affection, from her.

“You didn’t even see what I got you,” Bucky tried again, hoping she would at least look at him.

When she did, he gave a tiny smile and walked to the cottage door, bringing something inside.

“Here.” He dragged in a shiny wooden chair and placed it before his on their small dining table.

“You bought me a chair,” she said, pretending to be uninterested to hide the warmth that just spread throughout her heart.

“I made you a chair,” Bucky corrected, proudly palming the smooth wood, swiping his tongue over his tusks.

Bucky knew gifts were an essential part of courting and he didn’t like how she had to eat on the bed while he ate alone on the dining table because he only owned one chair.

He knew his days as a loner were long gone and it made his heart swell that he had her to share his house and life with now.

So he got to work and decided to make her her own chair out of an old oak tree. Being a lumberjack who had a woodworking shop had its perks after all.

It was going to be a weekend surprise, but he thought now was better timing after the fight they just had.

“You— you made this? From scratch?” She stood up in surprise, laundry forgotten for now.

“Yes.”

“For me?” She asked, not able to hide her emotions at the kind gesture anymore.

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled, taking a step back so she could examine the chair.

She sat down and a big smile found its way on her lips when she looked up at Bucky. The chair was comfy and new and hers.

No one has ever gotten her anything, let alone made her something so beautiful. It was so special and a flood of emotions washed over her at the idea that someone had actually thought of her enough to make her a chair. That Bucky had made her a chair.

“Thank you,” she whispered, breaking eye contact so that she wouldn’t tear up.

Bucky only nodded in reply, internally celebrating the win with his heart doing backflips. She liked the chair.

She stood up and closed the small distance between her and the orc, getting on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek, “welcome home.”

She quickly put the clean laundry in its place in the closet and went to the kitchen to start dinner, leaving Bucky with the most idiotic smile on his face as he shifted back and forth on his feet like a teenager.

She was punishing him for yelling at her by not making dinner, but that chair and the effort behind it deserved a good meal.

She was cleaning up after dinner later that night when she heard Bucky moving stuff outside. She didn’t pay it much mind; it was his house after all.

“Come outside, little human,” his voice called for her and she tentatively stepped out of the kitchen.

Bucky was standing by the open cottage door, a hopeful smile on his face as he encouragingly nodded for her to come over to him.

She didn’t know what to think, but any chance not to stay cooped up inside the cottage was going to receive a yes from her.

It wasn’t like she was ungrateful. She was certainly thankful she had a roof over her head and warm walls that she could hide inside from the rain and the cold.

But again, her situation wasn’t the most ideal either. If it was up to her, she would have stayed at the orphanage with the rest of the girls because if her fate was drawn for her to be an isolated orc’s wife, she didn’t want to be married.

When she stepped outside, however, marriage and Bucky didn’t seem that bad for a second.

“I thought we could watch the stars now that the sky was clear,” Bucky explained, internally nervous that she might call him ridiculous and refuse to sit with him.

He had waited for a day without rain and laid out a thick blanket on the ground before their cottage, the way lit for her feet by a close by lantern he had put out.

She was enthralled, mouth open and breath stolen. Tears welled up in her eyes, a mixture of joy and disbelief engulfing her.

Bucky has even went as far as bringing out the shawl he had gotten her just in case she felt cold.

It was just like… a date.

Her heart raced and she smiled shyly at the orc, making him smile too as he watched her sit down on the blanket, holding her knees to her as she glanced up at the night sky nervously.

She has never been on a date before in her life, the town’s boys always picking other girls from the orphanage to fool around with, but never her. She was never really anyone’s type.

She slightly shook her head to shut down her insecure thoughts, knowing that none of those player town boys could have ever brought her on a date like this.

“Is the ground too cold?” Bucky asked as he draped her shawl over her shoulders.

She hugged the soft material around her body, smiling gratefully at the orc as she shook her head.

She was too shy to even speak at this point, her mind barely registering the amazingly romantic end to her day that Bucky had brought into existence.

Bucky then laid down on his back, wordlessly urging her to do the same.

She got on her back, eyes mesmerized by the sight of the stars. She has never seen so many before, her view from her room’s window at the orphanage was very limited.

It was different here in the middle of the woods because there were no town lights to take the view away from the sky and it was gorgeous.

“So beautiful,” she whispered with a smile, observing how the stars sparkled above them.

“Yes, the most beautiful,” Bucky whispered back, watching her as she watched the sky.

He wished she could one day look at him the same way she was looking at those stars; the same way he was looking at her.

In his eyes, there was a mix of determination and yearning, reflecting his unwavering commitment to win her heart despite her initial reluctance. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her, drinking in every detail as if he couldn’t believe she was really here, right next to him.

She turned her eyes to him, her shy smile widening, “thank you for this, Bucky.”

Gods, the way she said his name was something else.

“You’re welcome, sweet thing.” Bucky smiled back, turning his eyes back to the sky as to not make her uncomfortable under his stare.

As they silently continued stargazing, she felt her heart become lighter. She felt so serene, so content, and she had suddenly forgiven Bucky for raising his voice at her just hours ago, wanting nothing but for this peacefulness to last for as long as possible.

Was it imaginable for marriage to be this good? Could her life finally be turning around?

She couldn’t help but want to see Bucky in a different light in this very moment.

She knew that he was harsh sometimes, but she also knew that she wasn’t making it easy for him either.

Maybe she didn’t choose him and didn’t choose this marriage, but Bucky was trying with real effort and she wasn’t blind to it.

Bucky cared for her when she was sick. He provided for her. He brought her gifts, filled up her half of the closet for her with anything and everything she could need. And he, most importantly, apologized when he was in the wrong, which wasn’t something common for the human males of this kingdom. He also respected her boundaries and hadn’t tried touching her after their first night together.

Could this all be preparation for the purpose of bedding?

No, it couldn’t be. Bucky didn’t need to do this to get her in his bed. He had already had her there and he had willingly let her go. He could have his way with her anytime if he really wanted to.

She wanted to believe that this moment was real so bad. She wanted to believe that Bucky was trying to win her heart.

So she did.

And if Bucky was trying, she was going to start trying too.

She knew just the thing to do actually.

She was going to make Bucky strawberry jam tomorrow to show him how grateful she was.

She might have not much to offer, but she knew she made the most delicious fruit jams and marmalades. It was her specialty at the orphanage. All the other girls always managed to ruin the jams, adding too much or too little sugar, applying too much heat or not enough, eventually producing something inedible. But not her. No, that was one thing she knew with her whole heart that she was good at.

She might’ve not been the prettiest of the girls, but she deserved a good life and she was now determined to build one. With Bucky.

She wasn’t in love with him, she knew that, but she didn’t need love to have a good marriage. Respect and effort were going to be enough.

This marriage could be her chance at building a life worth living.

“Could you bring home some strawberries tomorrow?”

“Oh my gods, this is amazing!” Bucky exclaimed, sliding another spoonful of strawberry jam in his mouth.

“I’m happy you like it,” she replied proudly, a smile plastered on her timid features as she brought a basket of sliced bread to the table.

It felt so good to have someone other than the orphanage girls taste her hand’s making. Receiving Bucky’s praise felt so much different than all the compliments she’s ever received before.

It felt… way better.

“It’s really good, little human.” Bucky was too busy adding jam on the piece of bread in his hand, groaning as he slipped it into his mouth and chewed, “how much of this did you make?”

She laughed, “well, I wanted to start with a small pot because I didn’t know if you liked jam and I didn’t wanna throw out any of it, but we have enough if you finish this and want more!”

“None of this is getting thrown out, little human,” Bucky told her seriously, “I asked because I wanted to take some to Sarah. She has a sweet tooth and she would love this.”

A frown quickly replaced her smile at the mention of another female’s name. She suddenly felt like wanting to take the bowl of jam away from the orc. Hell, she felt like she wanted to get back the jam he had already ate and swallowed.

“Who’s Sarah?” She asked, trying to act nonchalant as she greased her bread with some jam.

“She’s Sam’s sister,” Bucky answered innocently, oblivious to the way she hummed with her jaw clenched.

“And who’s Sam?”

“Oh, right, you don’t know Sam. He’s my best friend; and my partner in the shop. Great guy,” Bucky told her, more interested in the jam than her reaction.

At least Sam was a male.

So just to be clear, Bucky wanted to take the jam she made to his best friend’s sister so she could have a taste and satisfy her sweet tooth? Yeah, she didn’t like that very much.

“Is she, like, married?” She wondered, trying hard not to show her anger.

“Who?” Bucky asked, chewing the bite in his mouth, the foreign question finally gaining his attention.

“Sweet tooth Sarah,” she answered with a somewhat bitter tone that Bucky has never heard before, her thumb swiping under his plump lips before she could stop herself as she harshly wiped away jam from the orc’s face.

The realization as to why her mood had suddenly turned sour made Bucky smile as he hurriedly swallowed his food, “little human,”

She looked up at him with a silent glare.

Despite her efforts to appear unaffected, there was a vulnerability in her eyes, a hint of insecurity betraying her true feelings

“Are you… jealous?”

Bucky’s amused smile made her even angrier as she watched his lips literally twitching.

Jealous? Pfft, of course not! Why would she be jealous!

“No!” She replied aloud defensively, “it was just a question.” She stood up, collecting the plates from the table without asking if Bucky was done eating.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Bucky laughed, holding onto the small bowl of jam.

“Try to save some for your Sarah,” she snapped, snatching her hand from the orc’s as she let him have the bowl.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her surprising reaction, his widening smile still glued to his face.

She frustratingly sped to the kitchen, violently twisting the water tab open as she rolled her sleeves up and started washing the things in the sink.

She had went through all this trouble and used all of these bowls that she now had to wash just for him to want to take her jam to another female to eat.

Who did he think he was?

It was her fault for trying to do something nice in the first place.

He didn’t even answer her question, and that Sarah was probably unmarried. She was probably an orc too. Yeah, it made sense that Bucky would be attracted to someone similar to him. Those two ‘friends’ were probably part of his clan.

The clan he never introduced her to.

How naive was she to think this marriage could actually work?

Bucky was outside still smiling to himself like a fool as he finished the rest of her sweet jam.

She was jealous. She was jealous over him.

He didn’t want to upset her though, so he didn’t say anything, letting her calm down first.

He took the empty bowl to her, setting it in the sink as she avoided looking at him.

She heard him chuckle as he left the kitchen and it made her punch the sponge in her hand inside the bowl, pounding it angrily as she ‘washed’ it clean.

When she was done cleaning the kitchen and brushing her teeth, she stomped out to the bed, getting in and covering herself from head to toe as she gave Bucky her back.

Bucky walked to the lanterns and dimmed their lights before joining her in bed.

He laid on his back, innocently waiting for his good night’s kiss.

A minute passed. 2 minutes. 5 minutes. The kiss didn’t come.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered as not to startle her in the dark, “we had a deal. Where’s my kiss?” He put a hopeful hand on her shoulder, trying to twist her to face him.

“Have Sarah give you your kiss,” she replied with a deadpan tone, masking her fury as she pushed her pillow over her head, shrugging Bucky’s touch off her body.

Bucky stared at the back turned to him with an open mouth as he took his hand away and laid back, disappointment replacing his surprise and filling him up.

It was the first time since she had started feeling well again that she has refused to give him any of his kisses. Yet, respectful of her feelings, Bucky let her.

Maybe making her jealous wasn’t all that fun after all. But he didn’t even mean to make her jealous, he was just talking!

Bucky sighed, turning on his side as well as he fell asleep staring at the hidden back of her head.

The next morning as she put his breakfast on the table, she didn’t sit or eat with him, preferring to scrub the kitchen sink while Bucky ate even though she had just washed it the night before.

She didn’t give him his good morning kiss either; didn’t even speak to him.

She was still mad at him. This was serious for her, he realized.

Bucky might have found it fun last night, but today as she deliberately ignored his existence, he wanted nothing but to make her understand that what was in her head was nothing like the truth.

“Here, I packed jam for your sweet tooth Sarah,” she said harshly as she set a small jar of strawberry jam on the table before him.

“She’s not my—”

“Hope she likes it,” she cut him off, disappearing into the kitchen again.

Bucky sighed aloud, running a hand over his face as he stood up. Grabbing the jam, he took one look at the kitchen entrance before leaving the house for work with a clenched jaw.

She peeked outside when she heard the door shut to see the table empty. Bucky had taken the jar to Sarah.

Oh, that was it.

She could take being given to an orc against her will. She could take never having been chosen or given the chance to choose. She could take not being loved.

But she couldn’t and wouldn’t take being cheated on.

Was that why Bucky had decided to relieve her off her wifely duties in bed? Because he had another female? Was it because he had someone else to keep him warm and wet where he needed to be?

She couldn’t even think about the idea without feeling herself gag.

Why would he ruin her life by bringing her here when he already had that Sarah?!

How could she be so dumb, trying to meet him in the middle like that? Starting a peaceful life with this orc was never going to work!

She tried to pick the lock on the door like she usually would, but the new lock Bucky had put in wouldn’t budge.

She groaned in frustration before hauling herself up and out of the cottage window, running off to gods know where, hoping that luck would be her friend for once and maybe lead her somewhere out of these woods for good this time.

This marriage ends today.

Back at the shop, Bucky was as exasperated as they come as he used his chisel to shape the rough piece of wood in his hand.

After everything he was doing, how could she think that he had someone else? What was he doing wrong? What was missing?

Bucky had only ever wanted her. He thought he was the luckiest orc just because he got to fall asleep next to her every night.

How could he make her see that?

As his mind ran with thoughts and before Bucky could stop it, the chisel slipped and sharply cut the inside of his palm.

“Gods, fuck!” He shouted in pain as blood started flowing from the fresh wound.

Bucky tried to get the chisel from the floor so that no one would step on it, but his hand hurt more when he tried to squeeze his fist around the item. He grabbed it with his metal hand instead, rushing to the supply closet to find a clean towel to wrap around his cut.

He couldn’t continue working like that; couldn’t do anything with his hand.

Sam insisted on sending for his sister after seeing the amount of blood staining the cloth around Bucky’s hand.

Sarah tried to be efficient while messily stitching the wound as best as she could, wrapping it up carefully with gauze before advising Bucky to take a few days off work until his hand was healed. She was no doctor but she did her best for her friend.

Bucky thanked both siblings, giving Sarah the jam jar before leaving to go back home as his friends insisted.

He thought that his day couldn’t get any worse, but then he opened the cottage door to find the place empty and he could all but forget about his injury as he slammed his fist against the wall, crying out in anger. If his wound had started bleeding again, Bucky didn’t care.

“What the hell did you think you were doing out there again?!”

Bucky was enraged. He had found her wandering around the forest, as lost and as stubborn as ever.

“Getting as far away from you as possible.” She crossed her arms, her stare upset and unbending.

“And going where exactly!” He shouted, the idea of her spending the night inside a cold cave clawing at his back.

“Anywhere but here!” She yelled back, her face so hot she could feel sweat forming on her hairline in the middle of winter.

“It’s going to snow soon! Do you wanna get sick again?” Bucky held her by the arm, not too roughly as he didn’t really want to cause any real damage.

Neither of them noticed his blood staining her clothes.

She was too infuriated to notice Bucky’s hand wrapped in gauze. She saw nothing but red.

“I don’t care. I just don’t wanna be with you!” She retorted, snatching her arm out of his hold and pushing at his chest.

Though he didn’t move, her touch too weak to do anything to his colossal body, Bucky was hurt.

“Are you doing all of this just because of a little jealousy? Gods, human females are just—” Bucky shook his head in frustration.

“Jealousy? Hah! You think I’m jealous?” She faked a laugh, “this is not even a real marriage! What’s there for me to be jealous over?!” She continued raising her voice, the mention of her jealousy provoking her further.

Her words hurt Bucky more, the real gash now slashed across his heart.

Not even a real marriage.

Despite everything he was doing and trying, she still didn’t consider their marriage a real marriage.

“Well, do you wanna make it real, little human?” Bucky growled lowly, bringing her closer to his heaving chest by her arm, painting the sleeve of her dress in more of his blood.

Her heart thrummed in her ears at the proximity, her breath trembling as she imagined what the orc could do to her if he only wanted to.

“Let go of me,” she whispered as tears clouded her vision, hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear how scared she was in her voice.

Bucky complied, hating how nervous she got in the span of a second.

She ran to the kitchen at once, a hand on her chest as she felt her heart trying to escape her ribcage.

What an audacious orc! He was already with someone else and he dared threaten her with taking her to bed?! Damn, she was so stupid to think they could make something good out of this marriage. So stupid.

Bucky took a seat on the bed, face in his metal hand as he tried to gather his thoughts.

He had almost lost her for the millionth time today.

Was it going to be like this forever? What could he do to make it stop? How could he show her that this life with her was all he ever wanted? That he never wanted anybody else?

“You’re not gonna eat with me?” He asked when he saw her slam one bowl of rice on the table.

“I’m not hungry,” she replied curtly, her eyes on the ground and her jaw tense as she waited for him to get off the bed.

Bucky moved away understandably, taking a seat on the dining table instead as she climbed in bed, burying herself under the covers and hiding away from him.

Bucky knew she wasn’t asleep and he needed to talk to her; or at least see her face.

How was he supposed to have an appetite to eat if she wasn’t on the table with him, her beautiful eyes facing him and her shy smile greeting him every time he would moan over the taste of her delicious food?

“Hey.”

She felt the bed dip next to her as it took on Bucky’s body, his warm hand on her shoulder just like last night.

“Let your sweet tooth Sarah give you a kiss,” she spoke before he could say anything.

“This is not about the kiss. And She’s not my Sarah,” Bucky told her, turning her on her back so she could see his sincere face and hopefully believe him, “she’s not my anything. She’s just a good friend.”

She snorted, not buying it as she turned back to face the wall.

Bucky brought her back to him again, “she’s not married. She’s a widow, who is loyal to the memory of her husband, with two kids that are her whole world.” Bucky answered her earlier question, not wanting to hide anything from her.

“That’s none of my business.” She pretended to be uninterested, giving him the cold shoulder for the third time as she turned away, covering her head with the blanket.

Deep inside, she knew she was relieved to know that Sarah wasn’t interested though.

“It is your business,” Bucky sighed, taking the blanket away from her hands, making her look at him again, “it is your business when you think I’m involved with her.”

“You can do whatever you want.” She shrugged, acting indifferent, making Bucky more frustrated.

He released a loud exhale, “you’re what I want, little human.”

She remained silent, not expecting the orc’s patience or this admittance.

He had told her he wanted her before, but that was on their ‘wedding night’ when he had forced her to get completely naked for him.

This one was different. It sounded different and felt different.

“You don’t have to say all these things. We both know how this marriage came to be a thing.” She tried her best to hold her tears in.

“How did it come to be a thing?” Bucky wanted to see inside her head.

“How?” She sat up, her voice loud yet wobbly with emotions, “they gave you an orphaned girl you didn’t get to see or pick beforehand to make up for making you go to war for them, that’s how!” She felt bad for him, but even more for herself.

So she had read the contracts.

“Who told you I didn’t get to see or pick you?” Bucky swallowed.

“What do you mean?!”

“I’ve seen you before, little human. More than once. And I asked for you to be my wife instead of the noble man’s daughter I was originally offered.” Bucky came clean about the truth behind their arranged marriage.

“You what?!” She became even angrier.

He did this? She was here now because of him?!

“I willingly picked you, little human.”

“Why! Why me! Did you ever stop to think that I might not want this? Or you?!” She practically screamed in anger.

Who was he to decide her future for her? Why didn’t he just take the nobleman’s daughter!

“I did. But you were the only human female who has ever caught my attention. I couldn’t take my eyes off you every time I won a glimpse.” Bucky confessed, his light grey skin gaining a tint at the cheeks as he bared his heart to her, “I knew I couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you, little human.”

Won a glimpse

Couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you

No one has ever used such words to describe an act so normal as looking at her. No one had ever wanted or needed her. Why was her heartbeat speeding up? What was that orc doing to her?

“The minute you entered my cottage, you became my one and only. I don’t want anyone but you.” He promised, squeezing her smaller hand in his, “I will live and die loyal to you, little human.”

She knew he was telling the truth because she had heard the stories. Loyalty was very important to orcs and their mates were for life.

She just stared at Bucky, words stolen from her throat by the way he was looking at her.

No one has ever looked at her like that. Like she was the most beautiful thing they could see. Like she was the only girl in the world. Like she was the only one with any sort of control over this orc’s mind and heart.

“When I suggested gifting Sarah some jam, I was only thinking of doing something nice for a friend.”

She listened with a frown, a little angry again at the mention of the other female’s name.

“If it wasn’t for Sam and Sarah and the boys, I wouldn’t have survived a lot of things. They are my only friends and the only ones I can share nice things with.”

“The only ones?” She pouted, turning her face to the dining table in discontent.

“That’s not what I meant! I just— I’m not used to saying such things, but—” Bucky took a deep breath, squeezing her smaller hand closer, “I was so proud of you being my wife and knowing how to make such delicious things that I wanted the important ones in my life to share it with me…”

Bucky didn’t have to know, but those words were everything to her because when she thought about it, no one has ever been proud to know or have her. No one has ever been proud of her for anything.

But Bucky was, and he wanted to show her off.

When she looked back at the orc, he was staring at the blanket covering her thighs, doubtful to meet her gaze.

Bucky looked… nervous, if you will.

She smiled, eyes tearing up despite herself as she waited for him to look back at her.

When he did, Bucky was instantly smiling back at the sight of her grin. That smile was the whole world for him; it sent him up on cloud nine.

“Have dinner with me?” He asked, his metal thumb wiping away a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

She nodded, her smile bigger as she got up and walked to the kitchen to make herself a plate, her heart going a hundred miles per minute as she couldn’t make her smile leave her face.

She wanted to be angrier over the fact that he got to choose and she didn’t, but then again, if she was being honest with herself, she probably could have never dreamt up a husband as good as Bucky was to her if she tried.

She believed that everything happened for a reason and she was too dreamy not to imagine that this whole marriage had to happen exactly the way it did just for her to meet this orc, and maybe, against all odds, have her happy ending with him.

Taking the lid off of the rice pot, she finally saw it: her palm covered in fresh blood.

“Oh gods!” She quickly washed her hand under the water, seeing and feeling no injuries, the realization that it must be Bucky’s blood sent a pang to her chest.

“Bucky?” Tears blurred her vision as she found the orc in the bathroom, trying and failing to remove the wrapping around his right palm with his left one.

She had been forced into this marriage, a union she never agreed to, but as she watched him struggle to tend to his wound, something inside her softened.

How did she not notice that he had come home with a covered up hand?

“Are you okay?!” Bucky asked, troubled to see her crying even when he was the one bleeding above his bathroom sink.

Her heart clenched at the sight; at the care in his cerulean eyes, “what happened to you?”

She sped up to get the first-aid box from him, getting out everything she was going to need as she looked at his bloody palm.

“It’s nothing, sweet thing,” Bucky told her softly, hating the look of anxiety on her precious face even if it was for him; even if it was making him feel all sorts of things, “just a scratch, really. Nothing I can’t handle”.

She tenderly finished unwrapping his hand, gasping as she saw the bleeding gash across it, “this doesn’t look like nothing!” She cried, more tears streaming down her face, “how did you get this?”

“I just hurt myself while working…” Bucky’s metal hand hesitantly pat her shoulder.

“Bucky.” She looked up at him, not believing that that was the only reason because the wound seemed to be loosely stitched and it was obvious that something had happened to make the wound bleed after it had been stitched.

“And I might have punched the wall when I came home and didn’t find you,” Bucky mumbled lowly, not wanting to make her feel bad.

It was just a silly scrape compared to what he had to endure back when he was still fighting wars, really.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into the back of her hand, feeling terrible for all the things she has been putting him through ever since she came here.

“Hey, I’m okay.” Bucky’s metal hand cupped her cheek, his smooth thumb sliding across to wipe her tears.

“No, you’re not.” She shook her head in deep regret, not believing that he was still the one reassuring her in such a state.

“I am, I swear on our marriage.” Bucky wiped under her eyes patiently, caring about nothing but her heart carrying no burdens.

She was speechless because did Bucky just use their marriage to swear? Was it really that important to him that he would swear on it?

She didn’t care that this was an arranged marriage in possibly the most twisted of ways, a woman knew love when she encountered it and that orc’s eyes were showing nothing but pure love.

In the middle of her heart’s longing for a person to care about her, she couldn’t bring herself to step on Bucky’s. Trying to calm her down when he was the one injured and dripping blood? Yeah, that was an orc worth trying, caring and staying for.

“I’m— I’m gonna need to redo the stitches, is that okay?” She sniffled, relaxing herself as she wordlessly promised those concerned blue eyes to give them and this marriage her all.

“Yes.” Bucky smiled when he saw her wipe her tears away and the smile she gave him back made his heart soar.

“It might hurt a little, but just for a short bit, okay?”

Bucky nodded, not believing how delicately she was handling his huge hand with her smaller ones.

He was glad she never had to witness him back then or the actually deadly injuries he had had inflicted on him during wars. He wouldn’t have been able to take that look of fear in her eyes after every fight.

“Who did those sloppy stitches anyway?” She wondered in dissatisfaction with the work and Bucky swallowed hard.

She looked at him knowingly when he remained silent, “it was sweet tooth Sarah, wasn’t it?” She asked with half a smile as she started cautiously taking out the old stitches with the tweezers.

“Yes.” Bucky nodded sheepishly, “but Sam only called for her help because they don’t offer me help in the kingdom’s infirmaries.”

“What?!” Her head snapped up angrily.

They don’t offer him service at the infirmaries?! After all that he had done for this kingdom?

“I’m no longer a soldier of their own so…” Bucky shrugged with a sad smile.

Her expression went from angry to devastated to angry again in less than a second, “this is gonna sting a little.” She warned as she disposed of the old sutures in the bin.

“Don’t be upset, little human.”

She looked up, not knowing what to say or how to apologize to the orc about the terrible treatment of this kingdom’s people, but his smile told her that everything was going to be all right. She couldn’t help but smile back.

Her eyes swayed between his palm and his face as she started disinfecting the wound with the piece of sterilized cotton in her hand.

Bucky hissed and winced, making her stop at once.

“I’m sorry! I’m so so—”

“Ha, fooled ya! It’s not that bad,” Bucky laughed, amused at her reaction, instantly earning himself a slap on his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Hey, you can’t do that to the injured!” Bucky whined playfully.

“Can’t I?” She teased, biting her smile back.

He smiled wider because she could.

Oh, she could do anything to him and he would take it with a smile and thank her for it.

For a heartbeat, the world around Bucky seemed to blur as he focused solely on her, engraving every detail of her smile into his memory. It was a sight he never wanted to forget, a ray of light in the darkness that had clouded his years for so long.

Everything was going to be okay, Bucky thought as he brought her to his chest with his metal arm, praying to the gods she wouldn’t pull away.

“I’m— I’m almost done,” she muttered coyly, trying to make him let her go so she could finish tending to his injury.

But then she felt it: her husband’s tusks were pressing gently on her scalp as Bucky kissed her hair.

Her breath caught in her throat, a mixture of surprise and tenderness washing over her as she felt herself wanting to stay longer inside his embrace.

“Thank you, little human,” he whispered lovingly.

As she tilted her head slightly to meet Bucky’s captivating eyes, she found herself lost in the depths of their oceans, catching a vulnerability she hadn't noticed before.

She looked deeper and she realized that beneath his rugged exterior lied a heart capable of great tenderness, a heart that might just beat for her and her alone.

She beamed again as she softly replied, “you’re welcome, Bucky.”

Yeah, they were going to be okay.

Part IV

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peachdues · 4 months

Text

COALESCENCE — RANDOM SNIPPETS

Levi x F!Reader • secret pregnancy AU

I feel bad I haven’t updated anything for Coalescence recently — so have some random snippets from Part I. I will return to Coalescence once Part III of my Demon Slayer fic, In the Netherwood, is complete.

CW: MDNI • mentions of injury • pregnancy • NSFW sneak peek at the end • Hange being Hange • Hange also finds out that Levi x Reader have been fucking and Reader is now pregnant • Levi eats pussy like a god

Death was far quieter than you’d imagined. It was dark, perhaps even peaceful. An endless oblivion amidst which you floated without form; weightless.

When you’d lost unconsciousness against the rubble that was once the Main Street of Trost, you’d accepted the very real — and likely — possibility that you would not wake up again.

In your youth, death had been nothing more than an abstract concept; something that happened only to the elderly or those who caught illnesses that could not be treated, or even to those who ventured beyond the Walls.

As a soldier within the Survey Corps, however, you’d learned that death was as certain as the sun even if you might not live long enough to see it rise.

And, having spent the last eight years of your life fighting on behalf of the Corps even as your comrades dropped like flies around you, you knew you’d long overstayed your welcome in this world overrun by titans.

So when everything had begun to fade to black as you laid broken on chunks of stone and brick, you thought death had finally come to collect on the debt you owed. You supposed you were grateful that your final moments were not spent struggling in the grip of a titan as it brought you to its open, salivating mouth.

Really, it wasn’t such a bad way to go, dying from injuries sustained in an explosion — even if the explosion had been caused by the stupidity of one of your own. You could make peace with it; you almost had.

Almost.

The one, nagging thought you’d had as the world around you melted into dark oblivion had been of him — of your dark-haired, brooding boyfriend, who was likely miles away from Trost and utterly unaware of the disaster that had befallen the district; that had befallen you.

Levi, you’d known, was going to be pissed when he found out you’d gotten yourself killed, after he’d told you, so many times, to avoid doing exactly that.

As much as you’d hoped he could find it within himself to forgive you, you knew he wouldn’t, and truthfully, you didn’t think you could forgive yourself. You knew how every face of your fallen comrades haunted the Captain’s waking hours — how their screams plagued his precious few hours of sleep.

And now, it seemed, you would only be adding yourself to the festering wound he carried on his heart; so no, you probably didn’t deserve his forgiveness anyways.

It would’ve been nice to see him, one last time — you would’ve taken one of his fierce verbal lashings, if it meant hearing his voice one last time.

There was nothing you could do, however but resign yourself to death’s beckoning embrace, to fade into the nether and dissolve among the stars —

A buzz broke the quiet black of your oblivion.

You frowned; the buzz seemed to grow louder with each dull thud of your heart. You wanted to bat it away, make the silence come back and sink into the calm stupor you’d been floating in once more.

But the buzz was incessant, growing louder until you realized it was not a buzz at all, but voices. Many voices, speaking over one another in hissed, urgent tones.

“Get me a sponge, I can’t see where all this blood is coming from —“

“— Did you see her bloodwork? She’s at least ten weeks along, she’ll need to be discharged immediately —“

“That’s assuming the fetus has even survived —“

“Shush, I think she’s coming to; someone get Squad Leader Hange —

The voices melted together above you, their grate making the ache in your head grow steadily more piecing with each passing breath.

With far more effort than you wanted to believe it would take, your eyes slowly opened, struggling to adjust against the harsh overhead light of the Trost infirmary.

That light, however, was quickly blocked out by a shadowy figure leaning over you, far too close to your face for you own comfort. Your eyelids fluttered as the figure above you sharpened into focus, revealing a pair of large brown eyes blinking owlishly down at you.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, soldier!” The unmistakable voice of your Squad Leader chirped. “Glad to have you with us!”

Your lips, dry and cracked parted to answer her, but you could do no more than respond with a strangled, pained groan.

The surface upon which you’d been lain — a cot, by the feel of it — dipped as Hange Zoe climbed atop it, legs carefully straddling your hips to keep their weight off you, as the Squad Leader leaned in close to your face.

“Squad Leader — you can’t —“ a nurse tried.

Her admonition fell on deaf ears. “You had me worried there, Y/N,” Hange’s began, fingers peeling back your eyelids to check the dilation of your pupils.

“You were in rough shape when Braus and another cadet pulled you free from that toppled building.”

You tried to ask how long you’d been out, but your mouth struggled to form around the shape of the words. Instead, all that came out was a garbled string of nonsense.

“You have a concussion, that’s for sure,” Hange said smoothly, fingers prodding at a tender spot against your temple.

“But that’s not the most important thing — Y/N, did you know you’re pregnant?”

That single word broke through the addled fog clogging your head.

“Preg—?” You managed, your tongue thick in your mouth.

Hange appeared to interpret the furrow of your eyebrows as a lack of comprehension rather than shock. “Yes, preg-nant. There is a small clump of cells growing inside you that will become a child —“

You grimaced. “N-no,” you tried. “I had — an implant —“

You heard the nurses desperately plea with your Squad Leader to get them down from where they’d perched upon your cot, but Hange paid them no mind.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, doll, but they aren’t always one hundred percent effective. It’s rare, but it happens.”

Under normal circumstances, you would have cursed your luck. Of course you’d end up being the exception.

“I can’t say I’m excited for you,” Hange continued, though it appeared they had been finally persuaded to remove themselves from your cot. The Squad Leader deftly stepped away from you, coming around the edge of your bed to take a clipboard from one of the nurses.

“You’re my best Scout; your pregnancy means I have to discharge you. No exceptions.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open, unconsciousness creeping in once more. “Is — am I still —?”

Hange looked up from your medical sheet, eyes softening. “Yes, Y/N, though you’re not entirely out of the clear, yet.”

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or not; part of you relaxed at the assurance, but until you could talk to Levi —

Levi.

Fuck, Levi.

You hadn’t known of your — condition — until mere seconds before, which meant Levi sure as hell had no clue that your birth control had failed, and you were now carrying irrefutable proof of the relationship the two of you had concealed for the last year.

Levi.

You needed to tell him, and fast; before it was too late to address the problem.

Levi.

There was nothing you could do at that moment as the world around you began to dim once more. Try as you might, your body was unable to fight off the sleep that crept in and began to tug you under, despite the urgency with which you thought of your need to get in contact with the Captain as soon as possible.

Levi. You needed to talk to Levi.

But the Trost infirmary slipped away, the voices of nurses and of Hange fading to the same buzz which had brought you back to consciousness the first time.

Before you slipped below the waves of sleep, you heard your Squad Leader’s lone gasp.

“Motherfucker-“

—-

(Levi’s POV)

Levi’s eccentric comrade emerged from the small examination room, a pensive look on their face.

Levi hadn’t given much thought as to what he would do if he ran into any of his colleagues among the upper ranks of the Scouts. His mind had been exclusively focused on her, and the news that had shaken him to his core.

He remained pressed against the corridor wall, for once uncertain whether he should make his presence known or stay still until Hange wandered away, leaving him to slip into the examination room unseen.

But the section leader had always had a peculiar sense as to when he was near, and so with a slight sense of foreboding, Levi watched as Hange’s head turned towards him, eyes as round and as bright as an owl’s.

“What a surprise it is to see you here, Levi.”

Levi kept his features neutral. “Is it?”

Hange’s expression was inscrutable. “What a day, huh?” They folded their arms across their chest and leaned against the doorway leading to her — to Y/N.

“A titan breach, gross incompetence by the Garrison causing even more casualties and destruction,” Hange counted off the day’s events on her fingers. “And to top it all off, the best scout on my squad not only got injured because of said incompetence, but she’s also pregnant.”

It took everything in him to keep his voice even and monotone. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the headache. The paperwork to discharge a scout is tedious at best.”

Levi brushed imaginary lint off the shoulder of his cape. “Better go get a move on.”

A strange smirk tugged at the corner of Hange’s mouth.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about who the prospective father is, have you?”

There was a beat. “No.”

Hange’s smirk turned into a grin. “Poor thing has a concussion — it’s small, don’t worry,” and Levi knew his face must have tightened. “But the funniest thing happened while the poor girl was coming in and out of consciousness.”

Levi’s fists clenched slightly at the feral glint in their eye.

“It was almost hard to hear what she was muttering, the poor dear,” Hange finally kicked off the door jam and moved to saunter past her raven-haired comrade.

“I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis with my scout, Levi.”

Levi’s voice dropped to a near whisper as they brushed by him. “Hange.”

“It seems the pregnancy is still viable,” the section commander said quietly.

He couldn’t stifle the faint exhale of relief which left him at their reassurance. For as shocking as the news of her pregnancy was, Levindidnt want to think about the mental toll a miscarriage could have wrought upon you.

Or himself, for that matter.

“You can go in,” Hange’s voice interrupted is slight reprieve. “I’ll make sure no one comes this way for at least a few minutes. But you can’t stay long — Erwin wants to see us.”

—-

“Well, congratulations!” Hange boomed, clapping the Captain sharply on the shoulder. “Good on you for working to restore the human race!”

A muscle in Levi’s jaw ticked. “Hange—“

“I guess the moniker ‘humanity’s strongest’ doesn’t just apply to your combat skills —“

“Hange.”

“— I’m talking super swimmers —“

“Oi. Four-eyes.” Levi pulled on the eccentric squad leader’s ponytail to command their attention. “Enough.”

—-

(NSFW bonus)

“You’ve gotta speak up, sweetheart,” Levi mocked between teasing kitten licks against your outer folds. his breath was hot as he exhaled against your damp core. “I’m waiting.”

You felt frustrated tears gather in the corners of your eyes. With an impatient whine, you rolled your hips towards him desperately, eyes wide and pleading for him to do something to fill the empty ache you felt within.

“Not good enough,” Levi growled, tongue lazily circling your entrance, twitching away every time you jerked your hips towards his mouth.

“Levi, please, I—,” you choked off with a frustrated whine. “You’re not being nice — I’m pregnant —,”

The stoic Captain pulled his mouth away from you entirely, rocking back on his heels. From between your thighs, Levi studied you, a renewed heat flaring to life in his steely eyes.

“You are, aren’t you?” He conceded, his eyes locking in on your mouth as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip and mewled. “And all because of me.”

Levi’s eyes dropped back down to your core, slick and aching, ready to take him however he wanted.

“And what kind of father would I be if I made the mother of my child suffer unnecessarily?”

Any response or yearning plea you may have answered him with died in your throat as Levi surged forward, his tongue plunging deep within your entrance, his nose pressing right against that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.

You just managed to slap your hand over your mouth to stifle the scream he pulled from you as the Captain began to fuck you with his tongue.

You considered yourself to be somewhat an expert on the eccentricities of Levi Ackerman. You knew he preferred two scoops of leaves for his morning cup of tea, but only one and a half in the evenings. You knew when he bathed he followed a precise routine, always washing himself twice before his hair, and that he always used two towels to dry off because he hated trailing water beyond the washroom.

You knew that he was dust and dirt’s greatest nemesis, and that even the slightest bit of clutter or disarray set his teeth on edge. You knew he loathed sharing any space with the cadets because no matter how many times he threatened them, they never seemed to remember to clean up after themselves properly.

You’d learned all of these quirks slowly, over years of proximity and tentative friendship with the brooding captain. You’d coveted each new discovery like some precious jewel, squirreling it away in a mental folder labeled “Levi,” that you periodically turned to whenever he was stressed or on his last nerve.

But there had been one attribute of his that you hadn’t learned about until after your relationship escalated — after he’d hauled you up onto his desk for the very first time and fucked you stupid.

And that insight was this: Levi, Captain of the Survey Corps’ Special Operations Squad and Commander Erwin’s right-hand soldier, ate pussy like a man possessed.

“You’re doing so good, doll,�� he groaned between lewd smacks of his mouth against your syrupy folds, his lips and teeth alternating in their ministrations against your clit. “You’re so damn good, giving me a baby, making a father out of me.”

Hearing Levi not only acknowledge your pregnancy but speak as though he were excited the pair of you were venturing into parenthood together made the coil in your belly tighten.

Levi’s hands clamped down around your shins, guiding your legs until they bent at your knees before pushing them up and level with your hips. His fingers splayed around your calves, he used his grip to rock you back and forth against his face, allowing your juices to smear across his lips and jaw until his skin was shiny with your arousal.

He hummed in response to the staccato of “oh fuck, oh fuck — Levi —“ which fell from your lips until you could no longer remember how to form words.

His eyes remained open and fixed pointedly on your face, those gray irises tracking every twitch of your mouth and pinch of your brow. The louder your strangled whimpers became, the harder he moved you, until you were nearly sobbing for him to let you come apart on his tongue.

more levi content soon, babies!

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot smut #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #snk fanfiction #snk levi #captain levi #levi aot #levi attack on titan

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lesbianpepsi · 9 months

Text

Fuck it I love you | part III

pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

summary: when paired with Tara Carpenter for a project you were expecting a B or maybe even an A. Not falling in love with Tara's older sister, Sam

series masterlist

words: 1.642k

warnings: bad writing

authors note: a short one but next chap will be much longer :)

You let out a shaky sigh as you grab yet another tissue soaking in the tears rolling down your cheeks at an alarming rate.

Your heart feels as if it was cracking at the borderline cruel words that were said; the word 'why?' in your mind the entire time.

A ring from your phone distracted you from your heart momentarily, sniffling as you grabbed it and answered the phone.

"Hey Y/n, did I leave my watch on the coffee table?" Melanie asks you in a rushed voice as your eyes glanced over the coffee table to see the watch that Melanie owns.

"Yeah it's here." You croak out in a broken voice making Melanie's eyes widen dramatically.

"Y/n? What's wrong? I'll leave this party right now if you need me." She says seriously in a more hushed tone.

You shake your head as a watery chuckle escapes your lips. "No, no it's fine, stay." You insisted as your eyes glanced at the TV screen.

"Why're you crying?" Melanie asks you worriedly, fearing the absolute worst possible thing has happened to you.

And it has. The fucking worst thing.

"I just finished Fleabag again." You inform her as more tears started swarming in instantly at the mention of the show.

Melanie groans loudly. "Fucking hell, Y/n, I thought something actually happened!"

"Something has happened, Melanie. He told her 'it'll pass' that it'll fucking pass!" You sob again as you grab more tissues, your heart cracking even more at the still raw memory.

"You've watched that show so many times how the fuck does the ending still make you cry?" She asks you with a laugh now clearly finding your heart break hilarious.

"She said 'I love you' and he said 'it'll pass.' before saying he loves her too! How could I not cry?" You defended not finding your heartbreak over a TV show humour.

She laughs again. "You and your shows. Chads coming over with shots, I'm off. Toodles."

"Toodles." You sniffle making her let out another laugh before hanging up the call.

You glance at your phone and roll your eyes at the low battery. Typical.

Yeah, it's a Saturday night and here you are, alone in your apartment finishing Fleabag and experiencing the heartbreak that hurts just as much as it did the first time.

Some might say depressing, you say it's the way to live.

With an exaggerated sigh you turn the TV off with the small remote before standing up, heading towards your bedroom to charge your phone.

You reach your desk where the plug is at but frown when you don't see that your charger isn't plugged in.

Where else can it be-

Fuck sakes you forgot it Tara's apartment.

Groaning you grab your phone which only has 3% and shoot the girl a quick message.

Me (20:47pm): hey tar, is it cool if i come over quickly? i forgot my charger there 🙄🙄

Tara🙃 (20:52pm): yeah ofc but-

Before you can see the rest of the text message your phone shuts off to a completely blank screen.

With an annoyed huff you stuff your phone into the pocket of your joggers and go to look for your shoes near the front of the apartment.

At least you saw the permission text you think as you shove your feet into your dirty, broken trainers that you refuse to throw out since shoes are so expensive.

The walk to Carpenter's apartment is only twenty minutes and since the sun hasn't fully set outside you decide a walk won't do any harm.

You're a bit annoyed that you can't listen to any music on the walk so you decide to do the second best thing, think about Sam.

She's just so gorgeous and so sweet with her friends and Tara, how could anyone not constantly think about her?

You've seen Sam a handful of times since the gym, all of them being at their apartment as you and Tara worked on your project.

Tara and you have actually gotten through most of the project so unfortunately you only need to head over there around three more times till the two of you have completed the project.

You can't help but feel relieved to be able to actually finish a project in time before the due date, but there's also a deep pit of disappointment lingering in you too.

What if you never see Sam again after it? There'll be no excuses to come over there anymore unless Tara would invite you over.

Wow, that quickly spiralled into just not happy Sam thoughts.

Thankfully you stop yourself from thinking the worst case scenarios as you've arrived at the apartment complex.

Like routine you head up the stupidly long stairs since the elevator is still broken and after what feels like an eternity you reach their floor.

Knocking on the door three times you patiently wait for Tara to come open the door for you but to your joy it's Sam, looking as annoyed as ever; your heart swoons at the sight.

"What." She grumbled as her eyes travel you up and down, furrowing her brows at your shirt. "What the fuck is your shirt?" She questions before you even get a chance to answer her first question.

You look down at your shirt and giggle not remembering what shirt you're wearing. It's a yellow shirt with a pineapple in the middle wearing a pink thong, under it is the simple word 'Slut'. A shirt you got after your third re-watch of Brooklyn Nine Nine.

"It's from a show, you don't like it? It's actually really soft." You tell her with a smile instinctively feeling your waist to feel the soft texture. "Seriously, for around fifteen dollars and free packing this was a bargain."

Sam hums as she stares at your shirt questioningly before raising her eyes to meet with yours. "And you decided to wear a shirt saying 'slut' in public?"

You nod your head proudly. "Why wouldn't I?"

"People will clearly judge you. Stare." Sam answers speedily as if she already knew what she was going to say.

You shrug your shoulders, a weak laugh escaping your lips. "People who are complete strangers? People who I'll never see again?" You say with a soft smile. "People will always judge, it's our instinct to judge whatever we come across. But you can't let that control your life and stop you from being you; stop that from letting you wear what you want or even like what you like. At the end of the day they're people who I'll never see again."

Sam doesn't say anything for a moment as if she's digesting your words, her eyes never leaving yours for a second. You don't say anything as you gaze back into Sam's cold eyes lovingly.

She leans against the doorframe as she runs a hand through her hair. "Why're you here, Y/n? Tara's not even in."

Your eyes widen as you mentally groan, that was probably the rest of the text message she sent but you couldn't see.

"Shit I'm sorry I didn't know. I sent Tar a message asking if I can come over to get my charger but when she texted back I only saw part of the message of her saying I can come over before my phone died."

Sam sighs as she nods her head weakly stepping back into her apartment as she walks over to her couch, you take this as her letting you to which you do ever so gracefully, shutting the door behind you.

Your eyes avert to Sam's figure sitting on the couch as her back faces you with the TV playing on a low volume, one of your favourite movies playing on the screen.

"I love Little Miss Sunshine." You express with a smile walking towards Sam, resting your hands on top of the couch as you stare at the screen. "It absolutely changed my life, and the first movie I actually loved. Like fully loved."

"It's okay." Sam says with a small smile on her lips as she watches the movie from below you. "I hated it in the beginning but I guess it's sorta growing on me."

"There's a thin line between love and hate." You express your attention only focused on the movie playing on the screen.

Sam tilts her head up as she gazes at your side profile. "I wouldn't say I love it but I definitely like it."

You chuckle at her words, your eyes lighting up in the reflection of the movie that Sam couldn't help but focus on.

"It's growing, right? Give it time and you'll love it like there's no tomorrow." Sam hums very swallowing her eyes and focuses no longer on the movie.

"Did you love it right from the start?" She asks you. Finally you look away from the screen to look into her eyes, a gentle smile grazing your lips.

"Pretty much. You'll love it soon too, I bet you will." You tell her, thinking you're still talking about the movie.

But Sam isn't, Sam isn't thinking of the movie at all.

"But I still don't like some parts of it or even understand it, how're you so sure I'll love it?" Sam tries again, blinking slowly.

You shrug your shoulders before moving around the couch to sit next to her, your thighs touching as you smile at her.

"Give it a chance, this is your first time watching it right?" Sam nods her head. "Then give it a chance, you might surprise yourself and actually really like it in the end."

"Go on a date with me." Sam abruptly asks, barely giving you time to finish your sentence. Her eyes gazed into yours as a small smile nervously appeared on her lips.

Holy fucking shit.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x fem!reader #sam carpenter fluff #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x y/n #my fanficiton #my writing #melissa barrera x reader #scream six #fluff

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devilfic · 3 months

Text

❝honeymoon❞

III. on the clock.

parts: previously plot: your mother has been conducting business with some pretty shady business partners and it puts you in danger. thankfully, saving you is in your husband's job description. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, violence, bruce being a little Bossy, use of the gender neutral honorific "mx" (feel free to insert mr. or mrs. there if you like). words: 2.1k.

a/n: been watching a bit of supergirl lately and I'm a big fan of the "supergirl is lena's scary guard dog" dynamic they've got going on. got inspired

You suck in a breath between barely parted lips before the smoke hits you in a cloud. Thick, pungent. You hold your breath even as the smoke tickles your eyes, makes them water, until it clears and all you're left with is the bastard sitting across from you, "I understand that it might be... upsetting to hear, but Wayne Enterprises thanks you for all you've done during our partnership."

Cigar hanging from the jaws of a wolf, Mr. Carpinelli is hardly upset. He's grinning around the head of his cigar when he tells you, "You're making a big fucking mistake." He's furious.

You keep your head held high, "Again, I deeply apologize for how abrupt this must be. As acting CEO, I have had to make some tough decisions in the past but this is by far one of the toughest." You bite the lie out, appearing sweet and docile. "You were one of our best. We will be looking forward to all Carpinelli & Sons' future business ventures."

You hear the hacking in his throat before it lands on the ground in front of your feet: a fat, muddy glob of spit sits a (thankful) hair away from your shoe, and even you can't bother to hide your scowl.

You let him smoke in your (Bruce's) office. You let him kick his feet up on your desk. You even let him have some of the good brandy, and watched him gobble it up like four ounces of the stuff didn't cost the full price of his pretty snakeskin shoes.

And he spit at you.

Mr. Carpinelli stands to his feet and puts his cigar out on your desk and really, that should have did it for you, but you bite your tongue until you taste blood. Then he points one fat finger at you, about as fat as the Corojo burning a ring in your desk, "Tell your bitch of a mother she should've told me herself."

"My bitch of a mother didn't give the order," and your venom is not on behalf of your mother, lest anyone be mistaken, "I did."

Something flickers in Carpinelli's eyes. Without another word, he leaves the office in a flourish, and you sink back into your chair only when your ears cease ringing.

Bruce is delighted. Or you think he might be. You weren't certain what delight looked like on him these days, but the solid "OK" in response is enough for you to focus on your shaking. You remind yourself that you're not out of the woods yet, and that Carpinelli was only one half of the dastardly duo you needed to break up. Eventually, or rather, imminently, she would find out what you'd done. It'd be better to break the news in person before she got word from Carpinelli herself.

But Bruce approved. Bruce, who'd been on the same page as you when you'd brought up the idea, who'd left you in less despair than when he'd found you, agreed with you. Your mother be damned and damned should she be, you at least had Bruce on your side.

You step out into humidity and immediately one of the doormen flanks you, rushing to open your car door for you with a "Goodnight, Mx. Wayne" and a "get home safe" that goes in one ear and out the other. You just barely have the wits about you to return the pleasantry, climbing into the backseat of your car with your hand halfway to the collar of your coat when you freeze.

Across from you is Mr. Carpinelli, smiling around another cigar. How the smell of it hadn't hit you when you first sat down was far beyond you. The car jerks into Gotham city traffic without a hitch. A glance in the rear-view tells you that this is not your usual driver.

You're trying really hard to not let this get to you.

"I forgot to say before: congratulations on the nuptials."

"We're not married just yet."

Carpinelli raises an eyebrow, "But you still make the help call you Wayne?"

"Can I help you with something, Mr. Carpinelli?" It takes some hidden strength in you to keep the shake out of your voice, "Perhaps I wasn't clear enough before?"

The mob boss stretches his leg until his foot is pressing into the bottom of your seat, those same pretty snakeskin shoes marred by mucky rainwater. You turn your knees away but feel the water drip onto your ankle. You resist the severe urge to drive an ice pick through his skull.

"I called your mommy after our little conversation," your blood runs cold, "and she told me to disregard your little... power trip." He blows a ring of smoke, "So no bad blood here."

"Did she, now?"

"Mhm. Seemed pretty pissed, too. Hope she doesn't ground ya."

"You seem to think it's her name on the building."

"It ain't yours."

"Yet."

Carpinelli laughs, brushing some ash onto the carpet, "Funny. How that works." And he sits up, crouching in front of you with his cigar raised above your knee. His other hand clutches it in his meaty palm. His cigar is close enough to the skin that you can feel the heat coming off of it, all the while struggling against suffocating on the smoke. Your phone is in your coat pocket and there'd be no way to discreetly get to it with him this close. "Listen, doll. I'm doing this as a courtesy. I don't usually give people the chance to piss me off twice."

The panic button in all Wayne Enterprises vehicles is under the seat, however.

Carpinelli keeps talking and you take your hands out of your lap, leaning forward and feigning that you're listening. All the while, your fingers are stretching under the seat, searching for that little, tiny, infinitesimal-

The car rocks violently as something heavy lands on top of it with a thud. It shocks Carpinelli enough that he lets your knee go, turning his head up to the ceiling, "What the fuck was that?"

The driver knows just as much as the two of you do. You feel him jerk the car straight, but before he can pull over to check what made the sound, a fist punches through the roof of the car.

It's enough to make Carpinelli fall over like a bumbling buffoon.

He doesn't get very long to collect himself. The metal of the roof is being torn back, making an ugly sound as the hole gets bigger. You manage to locate the panic button just in time to see a hand reach down into the car and grip Carpinelli by the front of his suit and... and snatch him out.

The driver nearly crashes the car into a building trying to pull to a stop, fumbling futilely for the handgun at his side, but another hole is punched into the roof above his head and he's dragged out just as dramatically as Carpinelli.

Before you can be stolen too, you crawl to the front and unlock the car before throwing your full weight against the door to escape.

Outside, you find the driver splayed out on the sidewalk, out cold. On the street, Carpinelli is crawling away on all fours from... your husband. In all his caped glory.

"I-I didn't do nothing! I swear!" Carpinelli cries. You watch, however, as Bruce plods up to him. He ignores his pleas for mercy and yanks him up by the collar once more. Carpinelli's feet dangle inches off the ground.

"Who'd you pay off?" Bruce's voice barely carries over the noise of the city, but you hear it from where you're crouched behind the car.

"Wh... what? What are you talking about?" Bruce violently shakes Carpinelli and you watch as the smaller man grips at his arm for dear life. "I swear to God, I got no idea what you're talking about!"

"Your driver. Not your car. Who did you pay off?"

Carpinelli's eyes are wild. You've never seen true fear like that before, "Nobody! Nobody. My guy stole the keys and badge off the other driver. That's all!" When Bruce doesn't immediately release him, the mob boss keeps squealing, "T-The driver's in the boiler room. Knocked out cold. He's not dead. I promise."

Seconds might as well be minutes as you and Carpinelli hold your breaths. Waiting for the Batman's judgment.

Bruce yanks Carpinelli toward the car, rams his head into the trunk, and lets the unconscious mob boss roll under the boot.

After a few stuttered breaths, you stand to your feet.

Bruce doesn't raise his head from where he'd been staring down Carpinelli, but his eyes flit to you in an instant. Stepping over the bottom half of your abductor, Bruce makes his way around to you.

You're gearing up to tell him you're alright when his hands find both sides of your face, effectively silencing you, "Did he hurt you?"

You tremble. The adrenaline rush was falling steadily, but Bruce hasn't touched you like this since... since... since before he began to hate you.

His eyes are all full of concern though, the clearest his expression has been toward you since this whole engagement kicked off in the first place. You feel like you're really seeing him right now and it's too delicate for you to grasp. You wade in it a little longer, selfishly, "You got here just in time. Before I even hit the panic button, I- how?"

You're surprised to find Bruce suddenly timid. He releases your cheeks and despite the dewy heat of early summer, you crave the warmth of his hands instantaneously. "There's a bug in the office."

You blink, "Come again?"

"The cars, too."

"Like... recently, or..." Bruce gives you a look that says "I think you know the answer to that". Somehow, this is more chilling than almost being kidnapped. "Do you... listen to everything?"

"Do you have something to hide?"

No, you want to say, just hours of me singing to myself, ranting to the wall, and unscheduled visits from my mother about how I should baby trap you. Surely, if he'd heard any of that, he'd have sued your mother into oblivion and this whole marriage would have been done for. You swallow down the panic and shake your head, "Not really, no."

Sirens in the distance grow louder as they reach your destination, and sure enough, the signal to the GCPD had gone through without a hitch. Several cop cars round the corner and Bruce carries Carpinelli and the driver's body out into the street for them to pick up.

You glance between him and the first cop that pulls up, "I should... probably grab another ride to my mother's. She's going to be furious about... well, everything."

But before you can walk away, Bruce grips your upper arm and pulls you back into his side, making you stumble and grab onto his chest. You stare up at him, bewildered. Bruce grunts. "That can wait. I'm taking you home."

"But the police-"

"Emilio Carpinelli? Is it my birthday, Batman?" One of the cops snickers as he walks up, handcuffs at the ready, "What happened here?"

Bruce cuts you off before you can answer, "Attempted kidnapping and criminal threat toward the Wayne Enterprises CEO. Carpinelli admitted to the assault of the Waynes' driver, as well as stealing his badge and keys. Send a car to Wayne Enterprises to retrieve the driver from the boiler room. That's all he admitted to."

"Will do. And you, Mx. Wayne? Sure hope he didn't get his filthy paws on ya."

You shake your head, "No, thank goodness. Batman arrived just in time."

The cop nods, "Well, we'll probably need to bring you in for further questioning. Just to corroborate the story in fuller detail."

"Tomorrow. Bruce Wayne wants them back home now."

The cop looks between you and Batman, eyes narrowing in confusion. Eventually, they land back on you for confirmation, "Yes," you breathe, leaning into Bruce's side with intention now, "my husband- well, fiancé is very worried. But I'll be happy to stop by the precinct bright and early tomorrow morning, if that's alright?"

And it's not like the guy is gonna argue with you when your kidnapping lead to the arrest of one of the biggest dons running Gotham City. He leaves you and Bruce with a nod and a call to stay safe.

But as Bruce leads you in the direction of what is slowly appearing to be the "Batmobile", you pry his hand off your arm and hold it in between you instead, "Mr. Wayne wants me home, you said?"

Bruce pointedly ignores the teasing in your tone, "God forbid someone else tries to make off with you."

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman fic #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites

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fuctacles · 10 months

Text

Eddie, begrudgingly: Dustin's older brother is kinda fine :/

I had a craving for best friend's older brother AU so I wrote some but it's not my forte I'm out of ideas so that might be it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Edit: jokes on me I guess

[Part II] [Part III]

Eddie was about to knock on his freshman friend’s door when there was a loud commotion on the other side and the door opened by itself. A guy, probably around his age, nearly ran into him in his haste to leave the house. He startled, taking Eddie in. And then taking a double take, the way Eddie was used to people doing at the sight of him.

“Who are you?” the guy asked, scrunching his nose and not meeting Eddie’s eyes.

He felt his hackles rise, venom building in his throat and ready to spit. He wasn’t expecting this on a Saturday on his friend’s doorstep, but he guessed this was the kind of town where you just couldn’t wear your battle vest in peace anywhere. His upper lip twitched ready to form a snarl, when suddenly the guy's features softened, a spark of recognition lighting up his eyes.

“Wait. Let me guess. Eddie?”

Eddie faltered, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. He frowned.

“Yeah?”

The guy's face warmed up with a smile, and Eddie was not ready for that kind of emotional rollercoaster this early in the morning.

“Dustin’s stories do not do you justice,” he says for some reason, eyeing him again. Eddie wants to shrivel up and hide. What the fuck was happening. “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen,” he said, stepping to the side to invite him in. “I have to go to work, so you two be good, okay?” he says before waving a cheery goodbye and closing the door, disappearing just as abruptly as he showed up in front of Eddie. The inside of the house suddenly seemed dull.

Another ray of sunshine peeked from the kitchen, toothy grin and hazelnut curls.

“So you’ve met Steve!” Dustin grinned in place of a greeting.

Eddie gawked at him.

“That,” he pointed at the closed door. The sound of a car leaving the curb tickled his ears. “Was Steve?!”

“The adopted brother Steve? The Star Wars fan Steve? The badass older brother Steve?”

“Yes, all that,” Dustin nodded enthusiastically.

“I thought he was, like, 16!” Eddie flailed and it sounded like a petulant whine even to his ears. He winced.

Dustin frowned at him like he was being stupid. Eddie didn’t like that gaze, but unfortunately at this point, he was getting used to it. His younger friend leaned on the kitchen door frame watching Eddie toe off his shoes.

“He’s 19. What gave you that impression?”

Eddie frowned at his scuffed Reeboks. He nudged them with his toe to line up, looking for an answer.

“The adopted part, I think? He’s almost an adult, who adopts that old?”

He knew he had said the wrong thing as soon as he said it. He looked up at Dustin, whose face twisted uncomfortably.

“Shit, sorry man. I didn’t mean-”

Dusting clicked his tongue impatiently, interrupting him.

“It’s fine. This is an unconventional arrangement,” he said in that way when you heard something repeatedly. “I can tell you more, but after we make that character sheet, okay?”

Eddie nodded, eager to abandon his social faux pas. The Henderson’s were an unconventional unit, and that’s what he loved about them, at least from the stories Dustin shared. The guy was a little freak, just like Eddie, so it checked out his family was just as unconventional. So was Eddie’s after all.

The parallels made him warm up inside, the familiar need to protect his younger friends flaring up.

“Deal,” he nodded, following his friend inside the kitchen, where notebooks and DnD manuals already littered the table.

A couple of hours, two coffees and an unsolved argument about the intricacies of multiclassing later, they decided to take a break and Eddie could finally feast his eyes on the family photos on display. He stood in front of the newest one standing front and centre on the mantle. Steve was smiling shyly to the camera while Claudia Henderson had her arms around his shoulders and Dustin was grinning wide from his other side, hair ruffled by the older boy's hand.

“How long he has been living here?”

Dustin’s head popped out of the kitchen where he was rummaging for snacks.

“About a year. Remember the Starcourt fire?”

“Yeah?” Eddie frowned, taken aback by the seemingly unrelated question.

“Well, he’s been there and-” the boy frowned, fully stepping into the living room and crossing his arms. “Shit, Mom says I shouldn’t be babbling it around. That it’s Steve's story to tell.”

Eddie hummed, cocking his head.

“Your mom is very smart.”

Dustin unwrapped his arms, clenching his hands together.

“I guess I could tell you I mean who are you gonna tell? You just-”

Eddie raised both his hands, stopping him.

“Dude, he interrupted with all the disapproval his drug dealing nonconformist self could muster. “She’s right and that would be breaking your brother’s trust.”

“Uh. Yeah,” Dustin gulped, looking adequately ashamed at proposing the idea. “You’re right., he nodded.

This lasted about half a second because nobody could stop Henderson from being an egocentric know-it-all and since he was wrong he was now going to overcompensate for it. Of that, Eddie could be sure.

“We can go to his workplace and you could ask him!”

Eddie raised his hands again.

“Hold your horses Henderson, we’re not harassing your brother at work.” The boy was actually pouting, the little shit. “I am not that determined to hear it. I’ll just catch him another time I visit.”

That was the wrong thing to say because he wasn’t planning on being a recurring guest initially. Or maybe it was the right thing to say since Dustin positively beamed at the implication.

Maybe it was because the kid’s presence has been a good influence on him as well.

Also, while the story of Steve’s adoption didn’t seem that interesting before, the idea of a mall fire being somehow involved raised questions that were now itching the back of Eddie’s tongue. He had to ask them at some point.

“There’s this guy,” Eddie starts one day during lunch break.

“Oh-ho,” Gareth murmurs with disdain, the crumbs from his sandwich falling from his lips.

“Not like that,” Eddie glowered at him, slapping against his arm. Even though it was kinda like that. “He’s picking up Henderson after Hellfire today and if we run into him, I want you guys to be civil.”

“We’re always civil,” Jeff frowns at Eddie’s backhanded accusations.

“Yeah, especially when you guys are mooning after Mrs. Wheeler.”

The comment raised a wave of loud protests from his friends.

“I am just saying-”

“You’re just saying that guy is hot and we shouldn’t ogle him?” Gareth, the worst friend he has, raised his eyebrow.

“No, I’m just-”

“You calling dibs, Munson?” John the Traitor, the Backstabber, joined in. Johned in, if you will.

‘No!” Eddie protested, maybe a little too loud. A couple of heads turned but when they saw the ruckus was coming from the freaks table, they quickly lost interest. “He’s the worst. A hunk of jock with stupid hair but!” He rose a finger. “He’s Henderson’s family. And what do we do with family members in Hellfire?”

“Lure in.”

“Lull into a fake sense of security.”

“Cast charm person.”

“Exactly,” he smirked, pointing his finger at each of them in approval. “This case is no different.”

“It feels different,” Gareth murmured under his breath, earning himself another smack on the shoulder.

Eddie wrapped up the session and was giving out experience points to his players when a soft knock interrupted his counting. He frowned at the door.

“Speak ‘friend’ and enter!” he hollered to his sheep’s utter glee. He grinned at them.

Dead silence was all the response he got, so he assumed whatever normie was bugging them got discouraged. But then, Henderson was turning around in his seat, yelling at the door.

“It’s from Lord of the Rings! You know this one!”

There was a shuffle on the other side where apparently, Steve came already to pick up his brother.

“Oh! Um… Melon? Was that it?”

“You may enter!” Eddie commanded with a grin straining at his cheeks. Dustin was doing a good job educating his jock brother, apparently.

The guy pushed the door open, taking in the table full of teenagers. He waved hesitantly.

“You guys finishing up?”

“I’m handing out points, we need just a few minutes,” Eddie waved his hand. “And it’s Mellon.”

Steve frowned.

“That’s what I said.”

“Sure you did,” Eddie cocked his head condescendingly, ignoring the eyes of Corroded Coffin members staring at him. “Now sit and wait,” he gratuitously offered, snapping his fingers and pointing at a nearby bench, like Henderson’s older brother was some kind of dog.

To his surprise, he nodded shortly and obeyed, sitting down and watching him expectantly. Eddie took it as his cue to proceed. He coughed to gather his sheep's attention and went back to his meticulous calculations.

“That didn’t look like Charm Person to me,” Gareth hissed as soon as the younger members of Hellfire had left.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Eddie scrunched his eyebrows, throwing him a look while he stuffed his campaign notes into his bag.

“You told us to be nice, but you ordered him around like he was one of the kids,” Jeff pointed out, arms crossing.

“I did not”

“You totally did.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he straightened up.

“What is this? Mutiny? Among my own kin? Ungrateful little herd I had nurtured on my own breast-”

He was interrupted by a cacophony of grossed out noises.

“Spare us the imagery, please.”

Eddie huffed indignantly, closing his bag.

“Then quit yapping. It was a singular lapse of judgement on my part,” he said with finality, throwing his bag over his shoulder. Without looking back, he walked off, hand raised in a goodbye, “Toodles, bitches.”

And he was gone.

Gareth sighed.

“Man, I love Eddie, but sometimes…” John cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Yeah.”

Eddie’s been on the fence about it for some time now. But the time was ticking and he did say more than once that ‘86 was gonna be his year, so maybe it was time to pocket his ego and make some calls.

Some very, very humiliating calls.

Sighing deeply he imagined himself going to the woods and digging up a deep hole. There he imaginary buried his pride, made a fancy map to find it later, hopefully in time for his graduation, and finally dragged himself back home and in front of his phone. Next to it, he tacked on a list of numbers of all his newest sheepies in case of emergencies. Like Hellfire scheduling.

He sighed once more, slumping dramatically before dialling the first of the numbers. As he listened to the dial tone, he squared his shoulders, decided a more confident pose was in order. He was now a man of action, taking his fate in his own hands. His pride was buried deeply in the darkest corners of the forest and only a courageous-

“Har- Henderson residence, this is Steve speaking.”

Eddie’s mind went blank, completely thrown off. Who was he calling again? What for?

“Hello?”

“Is this how you pick up the phone? Did I get the wrong house? Is this the British Queen?”

“... Eddie? Is that you?”

Busted.

“What gave me away?”

“Ah, only the dramatic nonsensical ramblings.” Steve answered, amusement in his voice.

“Thank you, I pride myself in those.” No pride! Pride is buried deep in the putrid soil of a forgotten battlefield! “But I’m here for the superior Henderson, please and thank you.” Ah yes, the Charm Person again. Somebody could think Eddie buried his Charisma along with the pride.

“Sorry, Claudia is at work right now.”

Eddie scrunched his nose, confused, the gleeful tilt to the voice in his ear irking him. Then he remembered the mom. A staple in most households.

“Har, har, Steven. The smart one.”

“Please never call him that to his face,” the man said with a resigned sigh.

“There wouldn’t be enough space in the room for both our egos if I did.”

Steve laughed then, softly and genuinely, before calling out for his younger brother.

After a loud rattle, Dustin’s lispy voice finally reached Eddie’s trailer.

“What's up?”

The man braced himself for what he was about to request.

“I need your help with an assignment.”

The door opened before he could even knock. Again.

“I thought I told you not to inflate his ego.”

“No, you told me not to call him smart. It is merely a by-product of my desperate attempts at graduating,” Eddie shrugged matter-of-factly. “Besides, I don’t respond to the likes of you.” He punctuated his words by seizing the guy up before brushing past him inside the Henderson’s house.

“The likes of- Excuse me?!”

Eddie was skipping towards Dustin’s room.

“Hey big guy I’m here for my tutoring!” he announced himself, standing in the open door to his friend’s room, who quickly beckons him inside. Steve’s heavy steps follow and soon he’s the one standing in the door frame, arms crossed, while Eddie bounces on Dustin’s bed.

“What do you mean the likes of me?” he asks, almost pouting.

“Mainstream,” offered Dustin, shuffling through stuff on his desk.

“Jocks,” added Eddie, still bouncing with glee, hair following up and down.

“Normies.”

“Pop listeners.”

“Mom friends.”

“Conformists.”

“Okay, I get it!” Steve threw his hands in the air, stopping the list that probably wouldn’t come to an end otherwise. “You’re the cool guys, have fun having your cool stuff,” he huffed angrily, grabbing the doorknob. Before he closed the door he threw one seething glance at Dustin. “Do not. Ask me for snacks,” he hissed before slamming the door shut.

Eddie flipped back on the bed, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Man, your brother is so easy to rile up,” he chuckled gleefully.

“Right?! He’s so bitchy,” Dusting turned around towards him, signature smile in place. Eddie hollered.

“He is!”

Alas, a slap of palms interrupted his delightful trashing around.

“I believe we have some physics to cover?”

Eddie groaned. Right. He didn’t come here to bother the older Henderson. Booo.

[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

#steddie #pre steddie i guess #steve is a henderson #older brother steve #i like the simping for older brother idea but im running dry #if u have ideas for this trope feel free to drop them i might write more #the general idea is eddie finds steve attractive but is lowkey mean and teasing to him because he cant control his jockphobia #also uses it as a defense mechanism against rejection #steve in this is okay with his bisexuality #he thinks theres something there while eddie is in denial #adoption background: authorities got involved after they couldnt get a hold of harringtons after starcourt fire #with murrays help they lost custody and claudia swooped in #i know hes old but its more about legal stuff like changing his name and his parents losing any power over him #ao3 is down so heres a treat #ff #mine #st #steve harrington #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #the hendersons

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seospicybin · 10 months

Text

ON TOUR.

FINAL PART: ENCORE.

Hyunjin x reader x Felix. (s,f,a)

Chapters: I. SOUNDCHECK / II. OPENING ACT / III. UNPLUGGED / IV. HIDDEN TRACK

Synopsis: Your best friend, Felix, is in a rock band and he takes you to join him on tour as the band’s photographer. On the road, you learn how to deal with his bandmate, Hyunjin, who’s not very welcoming of you. (15,4k words)

Author's note: So sorry for the delay and thank you for liking On Tour! It's been fun you guys, see you on next tour :)

Click here for ON TOUR playlist.

Content warning: A tad bit of angst?

It was a pleasant Sunday afternoon when Felix visited Hyunjin's apartment.

The band only started writing music together, for a few months to be exact. That day's rehearsal was canceled because Han couldn't come, he was sick with a cold even though it was spring, and the weather had been nothing but warm.

Felix spent so much time looking around his place, getting to know his personality through the things he has in his apartment, the pile of books on the coffee table, his record collections, the photos stuck to the door of the fridge, the notebook he kept close to him everywhere he goes that he saw was sitting on the bedside table.

No matter how much he wanted to know what Hyunjin wrote in it, Felix resisted the urge to take a look at it, at least not without Hyunjin's permission.

Hyunjin made him a cup of coffee with a lot of sugar for him, knowing that he is not a fan of the bitter taste of coffee.

Then Hyunjin sat on the single sofa across from him, playing with his guitar and plugging it into the amp, setting the volume low.

"My neighbor has a toddler," Hyunjin shortly explained.

Felix only responded with a nod and took a sip of coffee that still tasted a bit bitter for him but he drank it anyway.

When Hyunjin began playing his guitar, Felix leaned back on the couch and listened to the combination of chords that makes such melodic tunes filling the space.

It was always a mesmerizing thing to see Hyunjin plays guitar, Felix intently listened to the strings buzzing as the metal vibrates underneath his fingers.

Felix knew that he admires Hyunjin, that was what he could easily conclude from what he felt inside him as he sat there across from him.

As softly gust of spring breeze came slipping through the crack of the window that Hyunjin left open, he recognized something else deep down his chest and that amplifies the longer Felix watched Hyunjin plays guitar.

It was when Felix accidentally fell asleep on his couch he knew what it is. He felt comfortable and safe.

When Hyunjin brought him a blanket, Felix pulled it to cover up his face and there, he felt it.

Felix loves Hyunjin.

He would say it but saying it out loud is hard, so hard that he decided not to say anything at all.

Felix thought that once he left his place, the feeling would stay there, not following him, haunting him to this day.

But saying it out loud? No.

Words are futile devices.

The after-party is canceled.

Everyone stays in their room until the night ends and it's time to go back home. Felix doesn't mean to make things uncomfortable for everyone, especially those who have no involvement whatsoever in it.

Felix comes to your room, knocking on the door when he's still not sure what to say and do. He even doubts you'll open the door for him.

"I'm sorry," Lou says the first thing he opens the door for him.

He licks his lips before continues speaking, "She left last night."

What makes him think that you would stay after what happened? He feels something stirring inside and making a way out of him.

"But you don't have to worry. I drove her to the airport myself," Lou assures him knowing that Felix might have worried about him.

Felix looks down and turns away, saying nothing else but learn that you left him again, this time, you didn't even say goodbye to him.

Isn't this punishment enough for him?

Hyunjin avoids looking him in the eyes as he enters the plane and sits at the far back, away from him.

Felix is once again surrounded by silence and it makes him lonely, it makes him hear the sound of his heart breaking into a million pieces.

Felix not only has lost his chance at love but also his friendship. He loses both his love and happiness.

A WEEK LATER.

Here you are, back at your small apartment and to your ordinary life.

You've been staying at your mom's for a few days and wanted to get away from things while mopping about how you hurt not one, but two people's hearts at once.

You hate yourself for that. You will never, ever be able to forgive yourself for that.

But how long will you stay like this? Not doing anything, refusing to move on from things.

You've been staring at your suitcases, too afraid to unpack things that would bring back many memories that you're not ready to recall.

But God! It's been days and you still owe Vin some photos, a lawsuit is probably on its way to your mailbox for contract violation.

For the sake of professionalism, you grab two canned beers from the fridge and sit on the floor. With a deep, deep breath, you slowly unzip your suitcase and open it.

It certainly unlocked a lot of things, not just memories but also the musty smell of the dirty laundry you keep inside a bag.

You hurl the bag of dirty laundry to the corner of the room and start to unpack more things, mementos you took from every stop of the tour. They're all random things, from postcards, fridge magnets, keychains, then all of the passes and wristbands you keep from the concerts and festivals.

You put them together into one Ziploc bag for you to figure out what to do with them later and unpack more things out of the suitcase.

Once you do it, it isn't that hard, it's like taking the bandaid off in one go. It hurts but it's relieving.

Now that everything is back in its place, you move on to the next thing which is your camera bag. Unpacking it while waiting for your laptop to load. You take out everything and carefully lay the camera and lenses on the table, ready to see the accumulated dirt at the bottom of it.

You find a lot of memory cards as you turn the bag upside down and put them in the tray along with the others to check what's the content. You found another thing, a piece of solid plastic with the name Ssick written on it, you believe it's a guitar pick.

How did it get there? You can't recall but it certainly reminds you of someone.

Your heart aches even though no one is saying his name but deep down you're addressing him as his face flashes in the back of your head.

And you miss him, a lot.

You drop the guitar pick on the little tray where you keep all of your memory cards and resist the urge to break down once again, no, you have to do things and keep moving.

Also, you have to stop a lawsuit from happening.

You start by opening your emails and found several of them asking for photos in urgency. It's such a sore thing to see but the only way now is through.

Gritting your teeth, you start working through the night and are glad that it helps take your mind off of things, by the time you're done, you're too tired to even think.

In other words, you get to sleep without crying tonight.

It takes everything in you to get out of the apartment and it's not like everyone going to know what you've done, right? You're not Yoko Ono.

You can do the laundry at home but you choose to do it at the laundromat. Opening the lid to one of the washing machines, you dump everything from the laundry bag inside, not having any energy left to sort it first.

After making sure it's working just fine, you get yourself a cup of coffee from the vending machine, then sit on the bench with headphones on.

You bring your laptop with you to check if you get new work emails or if the lawsuit goes to your spam folder. Who knows?

To find something to do, you sort out your work folders and named them based on the stop of the tour. There's a separate folder that you know why it's there.

The song that is playing through your headphones seems to sense that you yearn for someone's presence. Your finger clicked open the folder without you intending to, inside of it is something you promised to make and gift to someone.

You scroll down and see all the memories frozen in pictures, reminiscing the times you took them with or without him knowing.

These photos represent how he looked through your eyes, cool and poised, but underneath that exterior, he's kind and lovely, you feel warm whenever you see his smile. He's the sunshine that brightens your day. He's your best friend and you love him.

You miss him, terribly.

"How I wish, how I wish you were here..."

It's unfortunate that you and he have to go through this thing again. First, it was the distance but time has brought you back together and now, you're not sure that you'll be able to be a good friend to him anymore.

You lied, you betrayed him, you said something that you shouldn't have because it wasn't your place to tell, you broke not just his heart but also the friendship.

You can't bear to see that he will not be in your life anymore, but deep down you're undeserved of being a friend to him.

There's a lump growing in your throat the more you think about him but God, you wish he was here.

"Wish you were here..."

THREE WEEKS LATER

It should be good news that the band is having an encore show next month.

There should be cheering sounds and happy smiles and flooding the room with enthusiasm, this means the fans want the band back and to have another show.

Instead of all that, the room remains quiet, no one says anything but nods, to let everyone in the room knows that they heard.

Felix would be excited if only his head wasn't all over the place, his heart wasn't in smithereens and he could tell someone all about it but that someone never picked up his calls.

Felix never meant to mix his personal affair with work but unfortunately, his bandmate is involved in it too. He doesn't mean for things to go this way.

When he glances at Han, he too, doesn't look as enthusiastic. He probably if he wasn't in the middle of his two bandmates who hasn't spoken to each other for weeks.

It frustrates him too.

There are so many things left unsaid, but he can't say things without being mistaken or misunderstood. For this once, Felix wishes that Hyunjin could read his mind so he knows that he's just as hurt, just as sad, just as... confused about himself.

As the band manager dismissed the short and unmeaningful meeting, Hyunjin who didn't even glance his way once, rushes to get out of the room.

The first thought that crosses Felix's head is does Hyunjin hates him that much? That much that he can't stay in the same room with for too long?

Han appears behind him and gently squeezes Felix's shoulder, "just give him time," he says.

Time.

They said time heals, then why Felix is suffering? Why do things remain broken?

Time is not the only thing Felix has given him, he's given him space and distance and silence. All he needed to know is how long he and Hyunjin have to continue living like this.

Whenever he sees him, Hyunjin doesn't try to catch his eyes like he usually does, doesn't even register a smile.

The man who once knew him now feels like Hyunjin sees through him.

Felix admits that he was wrong to think of him as more than just a friend but oh... the feeling.

And It's sad that after all they had, they act like they had never met, but Felix can't just turn his feelings off like a light switch.

The heart might be part of the human body, but somehow it's always out of our control.

Felix comes down from the meeting room a while after everyone has left for their respective activities. He doesn't have anything much to do today but to check on his wrist for he had accidentally sprained it once during the tour.

When he arrives at the lobby of the agency, he's surprised to see Lou there. His bleached blond hair turn dark and longer now and he smiles when he sees him.

"I thought you left already," Lou says.

Felix comes up to him as he sits on the square sofa, "what are you doing here?"

"Why? I can't come to visit the agency?"

Felix shyly laughs, he only realized then that his question sounded so unwelcoming when the truth is he was just slightly taken aback.

Lou is a friend of Han and always seems to linger by his side, to see him waiting for him piqued his curiosity as to why?

"Sorry, I mean, Han has left for the studio," Felix stammers.

Lou chuckles in response, "I know," he shortly replies.

"I waited for you because I have something for you," he says, grabbing a paper bag sitting next to him.

Something for him? First, he waited for him and now he's about to give him something. Felix takes the paper bag from him, "are you sure it's for me?"

He nods, "hate to tell you that it isn't from me."

Felix glances up after taking a little peek inside the bag, "Oh?" His voice curls into a little disappointment.

"Are you that sad that it's not from me?" Lou asks between his chuckles.

Felix shakes his head, "No, I mean..." he gets embarrassed that he doesn't know what to say.

"I'm just the messenger," Lou says with that nonchalant shrug of his.

Felix can't know for sure what's inside because he only sees a big gift box and nothing else. He can't wait to take it home and find out.

But before that, he looks at Lou and it's the first time he feels good seeing someone in a while, one that doesn't get affected by what happened, one who treats him just the same.

"Thank you," Felix sincerely mutters his gratitude.

"No problem," he replies.

Lou picks up his bag from the floor and slings the strap across his shoulder, "You have to thank the real sender," he adds.

Listening to what Lou said, Felix is getting more curious about the person who sent him this.

"Are you going to the studio?" He asks, somehow feeling a little sad that the meeting was short.

"No," Lou answers, "I'm helping a friend with his gallery opening."

"Oh?" Felix lowly exclaims in both awe and surprise.

It baffles him that he knew Lou for two years now but knows so little about him. He heard only a few things about Lou from you, that he can skate, he can DJ, he plays ice hockey, he once helped you trim your hair on tour and so much more.

Felix heard so many good things about Lou yet he only reached to him when he needed help to do something, never once properly treated him like a friend.

However, it's never too late to start.

"Thank you, Lou!" Felix says with utmost sincerity.

Lou softly smiles like he always does and Felix wishes that it will forever stay like that, never changing.

Perhaps, Lou can see in Felix's eyes that he is thanking him for him, then with an open heart, accepts his gratitude.

"See you later?" Lou asks.

Felix smiles at him, "See you later!"

It's right in front of him.

Felix takes the gift box out of the paper bag the first thing he got to his apartment, put it on the table in front of him, and stares at it for a minute.

It's unclear what he expects to happen by staring at it.

Deep down, Felix can tell who it is from and he hesitates to open it because he knows he'll be hit by a wave of emotions that, once again, he has no power to control.

Taking a deep breath, Felix lifts the lid and looks inside.

There's a Polaroid camera and boxes of films to fill it. He puts them aside on the table, then pulls out something from the bottom of the box.

He tears through the brown wrapper, revealing a photo album inside. It must be the special gift you promised him.

He's not prepared for it but at the same time, can't wait to discover what lies inside. Flipping the album open, he reads the words written on the first page.

"Our adventure."

It says and he recognized that handwriting and that little curl at the end of every letter resembles the curl of your smile.

Felix flips to the next page and sees the photos of you and him, from your shared teen years. His fingers trail the glossy surface of the photo and wishes that he can feel your warm smile under his fingertips.

He swears he almost heard the sound of your laugh when his finger hovers to the other photo where the two of you are laughing together.

Every time Felix recalls the memory each photo holds, his heart aches for he longed for the times when everything was much simpler, much easier, and happier with you.

Then he comes to a different part, it says.

"My adventure."

For this part, the pages are of your photos from when you were studying abroad, doing various things from cooking to going on a hike, mostly of beautiful places you visit and food you ate.

He guesses that you want to share it with him, all these pretty sceneries with its pretty skies. You're filling in the part when you were absent in his life.

Instead of being sad that he wasn't in this part of your life, he's grateful to know that you were happy and didn't stop yourself from living in the moment.

Simply put, he'll always be happy as long as you're happy. He turns to the next part and finds another piece of writing.

"Our adventure."

You add a little scribble under the words and wrote, "Part 2!"

These are the photos you took during the tour, most of them were goofy ones. There's a photo of him sleeping, eating a cup of noodles, napping with his hands under his chin, of his messy bedhead and so much more snapshots you took without him knowing.

Also, more photos of you together, having slurpees and snacks at a gas station in the middle of nowhere. He misses these little things he did with you, the random conversation talked in between sips and laughs in between words.

Even the most ordinary things feel special when he does it with you.

He opens to the next part of the album that says.

"Your adventure."

As he turns the page, they're all blank, then he realizes why it was sent with a camera. It's useless now that he has no idea what to do with it.

The only adventure he wants to do is with you.

It's strange to have a lot of space.

You're so used to living in a small apartment, everything is within reach and you can see everything in one frame.

But now, after moving into a new apartment and it's much bigger than the previous one, you feel a little desolate.

Isn't it a dream to finally have a studio of your own?

It's not big but it's enough, you can pin all of your favorite photographs on one side of the wall and stare at it as much as you want.

You do most things on the first floor because that's where everything is, the kitchen, the bathroom, and the living room blurred into one with the studio. The second floor is strictly private, it's your bedroom and it has ceiling-to-floor windows which is your favorite part of your new apartment.

Another good news is you're booked now, not as in you're fully booked until the end of the year but you received a job offer from here and there.

Today, you got to do a photo shoot with a band for a music magazine. Well, they're not Ssick and not as big, but you heard of their name, not sure when or where, but it's a familiar one.

As you try to recall when was the first time you heard the band's name, you heard footsteps coming from behind you. You haven't had time to meet any of your neighbors, so you turn on your feet to greet them and perhaps, get to introduce yourself to them.

"Hi, hello, I'm your new—"

Your mouth stays open but words stop coming out of it. The one you're seeing is not your neighbor, that you know for sure.

Felix is standing there, exactly like that night when the two of you met again after years.

"Hey," he says.

It takes everything in you not to cry right there, you're happy and sad at the same time but on top of all that, it makes you ask yourself how did you break his heart like that?

You push the lump growing in your throat down and manage to put on a smile for him.

"Hey," you say back even though that isn't supposed to be the first word you should say to him.

It should be "I'm sorry", "I can't apologize enough", or "Please forgive me" and you have the chance to say that but it's not easy.

Instead of that, you ask, "Want to come in?"

He sheepishly smiles and says, "Yes, please!"

Felix comes at a bad time.

Not only that your apartment is still a mess, you haven't bought groceries yet. What you have in your fridge right now are bottles of water and some leftover dinner from last night.

"It's a nice place," Felix's deep voice echoing that it startles you.

You turn around and smile, "Yeah, I think so too," you respond and aware of how stupid that sounded.

Coffee is not an option since Felix doesn't like it that much, you turn to look inside the kitchen cabinet and find a box of teabags, "tea?" You hastily offer.

"Sounds nice," he says.

The two of you are sitting on the same sofa not saying anything but watching the curl of the steam coming from the two mugs of hot tea on the coffee table.

Weeks without speaking to each other and now it feels like the two of you are ex-lovers who have gone through a nasty break-up.

Oh well, it's close to something like that.

"I guess you knew from my mom?" You decide to be the first to shatter the dead air hanging between you and him.

"Your new apartment?"

You nod.

"Well, I asked my mom to ask your mom and..." he stops explaining, then chuckles.

"I know," you say.

Before the silence resides once again, you think of something else to ask him, "So, how are you doing?"

It's natural for him to always seek closeness, and intimacy when he's talking to you that you find him slowly closing the space between you and him.

"Good," he shortly replies.

You slightly turn your body to face him but look anywhere else but his eyes, "I saw that you guys are having an encore show," you say.

"Yes," he sighs like it's a piece of bad news.

You reach for your tea but pause as Felix asks you the same thing, "How are you doing?"

You hook your fingers around the handle of the mug, "I'm okay," you answer with an easy smile.

Felix glances at your studio and stares at the photos stuck to the wall, "must be exciting moving into a new apartment!"

You bravely glance his way for a second to see his impressed smile then look away before he notices.

"I saw the ad you did," he says, calmly feeling the upholstery of the sofa and aimlessly drawing lazy circles on it.

"They're amazing. Guess you're fully booked now, huh?" he teases with a low chuckle.

One thing about Felix is he always talks with utmost sincerity, everything that comes out of his mouth contained warmth and purity, and he talks with all of his heart.

Which only reminds you what kind of person you are for breaking that heart. You wrap your hand around the mug and absorb the heat with your palm, it burns but it's nothing compared to what you've been through.

"Actually, Felix..."

He turns his head at you, "Yeah?"

You stare down at your lap for a while before continuing to speak, "I'm not okay at all."

Tears start to pool in your eyes because that's what happens when you start speaking your heart out.

"I feel horrible," your voice begins to quiver as tears roll down your face, "I feel horrible for what I am, of what have I become."

You press your eyes with the heels of your hands to stop the tears despite knowing that it's useless, "I hate myself for what I did, for being a horrible friend to you, for telling things I don't even have the rights to tell, for—"

You're unable to finish your sentence as tears caught in your throat.

It's natural for him to always answer your distress call. He quickly grabs your hand to provide comfort.

"So, no, I'm not okay at all. I broke your heart, I broke our friendship, I broke us," your hands flew to cover your face as your cries turn into sobbing.

Felix doesn't say anything but holds you, holds you so tight as if he's trying to assure you that he's right there with you, despite what you've just said to him.

"I'm sorry," you sob into his chest as your body shakes in his embrace.

Felix suddenly pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. Then you see that his eyes are red and teary, he's crying too.

"Did you really think I was mad at you over someone?"

You can't answer with you keep constantly hiccuping from holding your sobs in.

"I'm indeed mad," he says.

Your eyes are blurry with tears but you can see that Felix is crestfallen, not mad.

"I am mad because years ago you didn't tell me that you were going to study abroad and you left just like that when you promised that we'd be staying together," he explains.

He takes a deep breath to continue talking, "And you did it again!"

You can sense the anger and the disappointment in his voice despite he was trying to fight the tears from falling down his face.

"You broke your promise, you left me again and you didn't even say goodbye to me this time."

Felix looks away for a moment to not lose it to his emotions, to calm himself down. He breathes through his mouth and turns to look at you again, "I'm also mad because I couldn't be a better friend for you—"

You stop him from talking by grabbing a fistful of his shirt and shaking your head, "No, no, it's not you, it's me."

He pulls you close and lets your head falls onto his shoulder, resting his hand on the back of your head, he puts his head on top of yours.

Sorry wouldn't be enough to make up for what you did but then again, you have nothing else to say but sorry.

"I'm sorry," you can barely finish your words without crying. Your hand clutching at the front of his top already soaked with your tears.

He hastily kisses the top of your head and keeps his head close to you, "You are my best friend. I love you more than..." he pauses.

Taking a deep breath, Felix can finally continue speaking, "I rather lose my chance at love than lose you."

Even after all that happened, he still chooses you who lied, was disloyal, and broke his heart. Not to mention, you did it twice yet he still welcomed you with an open heart, letting you in and willingly putting his heart at risk once more.

People would call him a fool for that but for you, that's just Felix.

He's beautiful and kind and has a big, big heart that even if you broke it, his heart still overflows with love and making you ask yourself is it okay to receive it this much from him?

There's one thing you can do now, try to return it to him with the same amount even though you know he'll always have more for you.

The two of you stay like that, pouring out all of your hearts and bleeding together, consoling and seeking comfort from each other, letting the bad out so you both have room for something new and hopefully, better things.

The two of you have always been criers so it's no surprise that it takes an hour for you to finally calm down. You both laughed seeing each other's face from crying, swollen eyes, and runny nose.

The teas are cold by the time you reach for it to have a sip, "don't drink it. It's terrible," you tell him.

Felix looks at his tea and cringe, "I don't even drink tea," he says.

"I know."

"Then why did you?" He asks with an annoyed glare.

You chuckle and put down your mug again to grab more tissues to blow your nose.

"Want to go and grab some meals?"

"Looking like this?" He asks in disbelief, pointing at his swollen face from crying.

You laugh again and take the mugs back to the kitchen, putting them in the sink.

"Well, there's always drive-thru," you simply resolve with a smile.

When you thought Felix is ordering that much food for both of you, he sits back down in his seat and asks you, "What do you want?"

You got into a little fight because you insist on paying this time and once you got your order, you parked the car in the empty part of the parking lot, facing the busy main street.

It's not an ideal place to eat and talk about things in between, catching up on all the lost time and enlightening him about some misunderstandings.

"I didn't mean to not tell you about studying abroad because I did, I just..." you pause to sip your soda through a straw.

You recall how you decided not to tell him that you were going to leave him to study something that he didn't even know you have a passion for.

"You were always so excited about music and how you wanted to do it with me," you continue.

You turn to look at him in the dark of the car with the only source of light coming from the streetlight, "I didn't want to ruin that for you."

Felix puts down the piece of fry he's holding and sighs, "I understand," he says.

He wipes his hand with a napkin, "I was mad and heartbroken but now, after hearing that, I'm glad that you took it, glad that I didn't force you to stay," he sincerely says.

It's a relief that Felix finally knows the truth and that it was just a misunderstanding, but there's another thing that he should know.

"You know I got homesick all the time," you confess.

Felix drinks his soda by gulping it instead of using a straw.

"And it wasn't a place or a thing, or... the food," you gleefully chuckle.

"It was you. I missed you when I was away."

There's a crease formed a questioning expression on his face, "Only when you were away?"

You break into laughter and nod, "yeah, only when we're far away from each other," you confirm.

Felix takes a moment to process this newfound fact then nods, "Okay, I can accept that."

The food wrappers mount in the front seat of the car and you shove everything into the plastic bag while Felix is connecting his phone to the car stereo so he can play some music.

You hand him his cup of ice cream then you pick up your own, opening the lid to dig into it with a spoon. Maybe it's because both of you are full and both staring out at the windshield, the silence taking over the space but it's the comfortable kind.

It creates this safe space where Felix finally found the comfort to speak his heart out. He puts down his cup and sighs as he reclines in his seat.

"I wasn't even sure it is love," he begins.

You keep eating the melted ice cream in silence while intently listening to him.

"I just thought that I only admire him because he's so cool, you know?" He says with a foolish smile.

You nod in agreement and that's not because you're biased, it's a widely known and proven fact.

"So I allow myself to admire him more, getting to know him more and he let me."

Felix stares up at the car ceiling, not sure what he's seeing at it then continues talking, "But he makes me feel seen, he always acknowledging my presence, he's so involved in my life that the next thing I know, I'm in it. I'm in love."

He closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. Those words are louder than the music playing in the car, he lets those words hang in the air and echo in the small space, in the hope that it will help him find the answer.

Felix gets nothing but the quiet of the night with the constant buzzing of the streetlight looming over the car.

"I know I couldn't just tell him that and he'd reciprocate it," he says with a snide laugh.

"So I hold it in because it's better to not say it than risk losing everything by saying it out loud," his voice turns lower the more he speaks.

He then turns his head and looks at you, "I couldn't tell you because..." he stops in the middle of the sentence and you can't tell if he's running out of breath or losing his thoughts.

He looks away then shakes his head, "I honestly don't know. I just feel like..."

He stops again and he closes his eyes as if what he's going to say next pains him.

"I fear that you would change around me," he mutters.

You feel something dropping onto your lap and only realized it then that you're crying. Somehow you're not mad about his decision to not tell you about it, it's normal for him to be scared to open up a part of himself and the judgments he'll get from it.

Rather than being mad, you feel bad for not being there for him when he needs you the most.

"You know I love you," you tell him with your tears rolling down your cheeks.

You gently put your hand on his and hold it, "I love you no matter what," you assure him while staring into his glassy eyes.

Felix sniffles as he fights the urge to cry and puts his other hand on you.

"That's not the only thing that makes you, Felix. I've known you for years and you better believe me when I tell you that you're of so many things," you tell him.

You swallow air to not let your cry get in the way while you're talking, "You're of so many lovely things. You are beautiful and kind, you're a good person, you have a good heart, you never think ill of anyone, you're thoughtful and passionate about what you do, you—"

You squeeze his hand to emphasize the words you're going to say to him, "you deserve everything and more."

Felix retracts his hand to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand and takes a deep breath. He looks at you with a sad smile on his face, "Thank you," he says with a hoarse voice.

"You are very welcome," you tell him.

You grab the clean napkins from your lap and hand them to him, taking one for you too.

"Oh, great! We're crying again!" You complain while dabbing your teary eyes with it.

Felix laughs as he also wipes his cheeks with the napkin, laughing at each other's faces again for the second time that day.

It reminds you of that song and how the two of you fit in those lyrics: "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears. Wish you were here."

There's no need to wish now because he's right here.

Always being the good friend he is, Felix refuses your offer to drive him home.

You walk out of the apartment building together to get a taxi for him. The night is getting cold as it's the beginning of fall.

"I'll send you tickets for our encore shows," he says with a jeering smile.

"No, thanks, I'll buy it myself like anyone else," you kindly refuse.

He covers your mouth with his hand and shakes his head no, "I'll send you tickets for both days so you have no excuse to not come to at least one of them," he insists.

Since you can't say anything with his hand over your mouth, you give in with an annoyed glare.

Felix triumphantly smiles and puts his hand down, he stares at you, he has that look when he hesitates to ask something.

"What is it?"

He licks his lips before speaking, "Have you two talked?"

Your smile wavers even though you have expected this question, "Felix, I don't think I—"

"Why? Are you afraid that I'll be jealous?"

You take a step back but he closes the space again, "or are you afraid that he'll choose me?" He jokingly asks.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and gently squeezes at it, "it takes no genius to know that he likes you very much," he says.

"Do you like him too? That I don't know."

You scoff and look down at your feet, not sure if you're avoiding Felix and his questions or anything related to Hyunjin altogether.

"But like you said, we've known each other for years and I know you like him back," he concludes that you know is true and there's no use to deny it, Felix would know when you're lying.

"And..." he cups your face with both hands and makes you look at him, "I'm not getting in the way of my friends' happiness."

He leans in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face, "I'm happy if you're happy, remember?"

There's no way that there's another Felix in this world, he's special, one of a kind and you're lucky that he's your best friend.

"No, it's just... not going to work. He's..." you try to avoid saying his name but it comes to a moment where you can't describe him in another way.

"Hyunjin..." and saying his name unlocks the memories and the emotions that come with it.

You take Felix's hands and put them down, "And I am just... me."

Not giving up yet, he holds your hands and warmly smiles at you, "and you're of so many things. You're smart, you're funny, you're a great photographer, you're beautiful, you're a great friend, a great person."

You can't help but smile when he compliments you the same way you did to him.

"And you deserve to be happy," he adds in the end.

You so badly want to believe that but having your friendship back is already more than you deserve, how come you still want more?

You shake your head and refuse to be greedy, shaking your head to convince yourself that this is not what you want. You already have what you want and he's right in front of you, "Felix, I don't want to—"

The only hard thing to do is say no to Felix, you look away and see a taxi coming your way.

"There's a taxi," You run to the side of the street while hailing for it.

Felix sighs knowing that you choose to leave the conversation instead of going through it with him. He walks over as you open the taxi door for him.

"I take it that you're promised to come to our shows," he says, not accepting any other answer from you.

You nod and smile.

He pulls you into a hug and holds you tightly, "thank you for tonight," he murmurs.

You hug him back and absorb the heat of his body that always puts you in comfort, "thank you for tonight," you murmur back.

He pulls away just enough to look at you, smiling so brightly to finally land a kiss on your cheek, "I'll see you soon!"

"See you soon," you repeat and to surprise him, kiss him back on the cheek.

He gets taken aback for a while and blinks his eyes at you. While holding his cheek he says, "I like that," he innocently says.

You laugh and push him into the backseat of the taxi, "Goodnight! Be careful!"

Felix rolls down the window to wave his hand at you, "It's cold! Get inside!"

You give him the thumb up while taking a few steps back to watch his taxi drives further away from you.

As you're making your way back inside, you convince yourself that this is enough. You got your friendship back therefore you shouldn't be thinking that you can have love too.

It's time for Felix to fix the other friendship.

He knows it would be just as hard but it's for the good of both his friendship and the band. They can't continue to treat each other like this but at the same time think as if nothing happened.

Before the band rehearsal starts, he comes up to Hyunjin as he's tuning his guitar inside the studio. He gulps air and gathers his guts to ask him, "Hey, can we talk?"

Hyunjin glances up to see him and he seems to have expected this, he puts his guitar away, then says, "Alright."

Han puts his bass down as he notices that they need privacy so he leaves the studio, then closes the door behind him.

It's a good thing that they're talking in a soundproofed room, Felix can easily talk without fearing that someone could hear them. But when it comes to talking, he doesn't know where to begin.

"You know everything by now," Felix nervously starts.

He wipes his palms down his jeans even though they're not sweaty, "I always have my eyes on you but obviously, now, you have your eyes on someone else," he awkwardly chuckles.

It's making him nervous as Hyunjin remains quiet, he would be grateful if Hyunjin is yelling at him instead of staying silent.

"I'm sorry," Felix hurriedly concludes before he starts aimlessly rambling on and on.

"I didn't mean for you to find out about this. I was going to keep it all in—"

"For how long?" Hyunjin cuts through his words with eyes intensely staring at him.

"W-what do you mean?" Felix stutters as it's the first time Hyunjin snapped at him like this.

Hyunjin gets up from his chair and stands right in front of him, face to face and giving him no way out but going through it with him.

"How long did you plan to keep it a secret?" He asks again.

Felix takes a step back and reorganizes his breathing.

"Why do you like me?" Hyunjin bluntly asks.

It's getting harder for Felix to breathe he feels like his lungs are collapsing, "I didn't mean to. I-I..."

Felix doesn't know how to explain it. One day he came to the realization that he has feelings for Hyunjin.

"It just happened. I don't know," he explains. He's just as clueless as Hyunjin about everything.

"Why, Felix? Why?"

"I don't know," Felix replies with a desperate sigh.

"Why—"

"I said I don't know," this time Felix cuts him off with an aggressive answer.

Hyunjin searches for his eyes and forces him to look back at him, "Why did you apologize?"

Felix sees that Hyunjin's gaze softens and he's no longer mad, he's rather sad, it's a heartbreaking sight to see.

Hyunjin licks his lips and brushes his hair to the back, "you have feelings for me but I know it can't be helped," he says.

He puts his hand on Felix's shoulder and looks deeper into his eyes, "I should be the one apologizing to you."

Felix has everything planned in his hand but this is not part of that, he got speechless the table is turned.

"For being such an asshole, for being insensitive and a lousy friend," he softly speaks while keeps looking into Felix's eyes.

Hyunjin puts his other hand on Felix's shoulder and lets out a long, shaky air. It seems like he's struggling to let out what he's going to say next.

"Felix, I appreciate you so much because I know that I'll never find another one like you and I would give you everything you wanted in the world," he explains.

He drops his head for a second before looking at his face again with an even sadder expression on his face, "That I am I deeply apologize for," his eyes are heavy with sadness that it's tugging Felix's heart and weighing him down.

"I cannot give you what you want," he says with a defeated sigh.

The lump in Felix's throat feels like a hot coal that burns him from the inside the longer he keeps himself from crying and so far he's been doing a great job at it.

"But will you stay beside me even though I can't give you what you want?" Hyunjin asks.

Felix knows that Hyunjin is not just asking. This question determines everything, this is where their path branches out and they have to choose where to go.

It means that Felix has to deal with the fact that Hyunjin can't accept his love and it's not like he has a chance in the first place.

Felix clears his throat before giving his final answer, "To always have you beside me is enough for me," he puts on a smile at the end of the sentence.

A smile finally rises on Hyunjin's face after a long time and it warms his heart to see it. He pulls Felix into a hug and pats his back as he eases into his arms, "thank you," he murmurs.

"Thank you," Felix says back and he can't tell him what he's grateful for, but Felix believes Hyunjin knows what he's grateful for as their hearts are the closest they have been to each other in years with mere flesh and bones in between, beating as one.

Han soon comes into the studio and hugs both of them, smiling and seeing his friends making up, making the band whole again.

"I told you guys not to fight over me," He jokes as he puts his arms around them.

Other than himself, Felix is aware that he must have been putting the band in distress, but he's glad that they give him the space and time, and patience as he picks things up at his pace.

They're part of who he is now because everyone around him helped him grow, they're there whenever he has to decide and affects the decision he takes. They hold a part of him as he has parts of them in him, they're one, and they're going on an adventure together.

Hyunjin pulls him into the middle and squeezes him together with Felix.

"I think we all should kiss and make up," Han playfully suggests.

Hyunjin, repulsed by what he said, doesn't waste time to groan, "EW!!!"

While Felix, as the personification of love touch, endearingly kisses him on the cheek. Han grimaces but not moving until Felix pulls away.

"Now we make out," Felix jokes.

Han screams in panic, "No, I said make up not make out!"

As Hyunjin holds him by his waist, Felix grabs Han's face and angles it to him, laughing as he's witnessing everything.

"I'm pretty sure I heard make out!"

Felix jokingly leans in closer while Han's scream is getting louder and louder.

This is going to be one Ssick adventure.

It brings back memories as you enter the concert venue except that tonight, you'll be watching from the front and among the crowd.

Felix texted you a few times asking if you came or not, you feel bad for not replying. For this one night, you want to experience their show like everyone else and not through the camera like you always do.

Indeed, it feels different now that you're a part of the crowd and get to watch the show, singing to every song at the top of your lungs and not worrying about anything else but having fun.

Sure, your heart hurts seeing him but with this euphoric feeling of the thumping music and loud cheers, it helps to dull the pain.

As for the band, they're getting bigger and bigger each day, literally and figuratively, they're not stopping, if anything, they're speeding on their way to the top.

You're proud of them and proud that you've been a part of it despite having just a small role in it. You're proud to be a part of their history.

Ssick, the greatest band to ever exist.

"Are you sure it's taken?"

Felix has been asking staff if someone has taken the seat he reserved for you. He has no other choice since you didn't reply to any of his texts.

"Yes, it says the ticket is scanned," the staff replies.

He's pacing back and forth while wiping his sweat with a towel, ignoring that he's tired from the show. The others are anxiously seeing him and Han gets curious as to what he's so antsy about.

"Are you waiting for someone?" He asks.

Felix looks around the room to find Hyunjin, he's nowhere so he must be showering right now. However, he smiles at Han and shakes his head, "Nothing."

He takes his phone and furiously types a new text message to send you.

Lou comes barging into the green room with a loud banging sound of the door opening, "I found this loitering outside, should we take it or...?"

Felix gets a Deja Vu, he once heard those same words before. He spun around to find Lou grinning while pulling someone behind him.

"Can you stop texting me already?" You complain while showing your phone buzzing with a new one he just sent you.

Felix squints his eyes at you, slightly annoyed that you ruin his plan to surprise everyone with your presence.

He walks toward you, scolding and pointing his finger at you, "You! Why didn't you—"

Someone cuts into the line and gets to you first, "What are you doing here? You're fired, remember?" Vin jokes.

You roll your eyes at him and give him a quick hug, "I am not fired," you persist through your gritted teeth.

Vin laughs then takes a good look at you, "What's that on your face? Is that makeup?"

You groan and stop his hand from touching your face. He's probably used to seeing your bare face with only a few layers of sunscreen and your eyes always look tired.

"Where's your camera? Don't you have photos to retouch?" He jokes again.

"Excuse me, I'm not working for you anymore," you say with a sly smile.

"You!" Vin is a second away from scolding you.

It's weird to say you miss being scolded by him but you do. You hurriedly linked your arm with him and grinned at him, "Please don't hesitate to hire me again!"

Felix doesn't want to wait any longer, he comes to hug you, "You didn't reply to my texts," he continuously nagging you.

"Oh, my God! I'm here now!" You mumble as you hug him back.

Han appears behind Felix, shouting, "Look at that! Our girl is back!"

He takes his turn to give you a quick hug, "Why didn't you come by before the show starts?"

You shrug, "It was a great show by the way and I got to fully enjoy every bit of it without having to worry someone about to scold me for not getting any great photos," you uneasily glance at Vin and giggle.

"Put you on the blacklist," he jokingly says.

You turn at Han again then at Felix, you do realize that someone else missing from this scene. You swallow air before continuing, "But seriously! Amazing, amazing show!"

It's nothing new to them that you're bad at conveying your thoughts into words, two thumbs up are enough to emphasize those words and assure them that you meant every word you said.

"Amazing!"

Just like it was timed, Hyunjin comes out of the other room while drying his hair with a towel, sucking a bottle of water. It's like time stops and you and him are the only ones existing in this moment, eyes met with so many words left unsaid.

He's so close yet so far, he's within your grasp but out of your touch. He's like a dream that you don't want to wake up to but you can't stay asleep forever. You have to face the truth that you can't have him in your wake.

You look away and turn at Felix, "Love your solo today!" You awkwardly compliment him.

"How about me?" Han asks, feeling competitive over silly things.

"You're great as always!" You say while patting his head.

Lou pulls Han back and keeps him in his place, "will you also come for tomorrow's show?"

"Not sure. I have work tomorrow," you reply.

"At least come to the after-party," Lou whines like a toddler.

You softly chuckle, "I'll try."

Felix notices that you avoid looking in Hyunjin's direction as he stands across the room, quietly opening a new can of drink.

It's sad if you have to lose your chance at love too, not when he knows that Hyunjin is in love with you and you're just as in love with him.

He doesn't want to be that person who stops his friends from their happiness.

"For tonight, I'll let you guys rest and it was truly a great show. I had so much fun!" You tell them once again.

Felix grabs your elbow, "you're leaving already?"

"Yeah," you simply answer.

You take his hand and hold it, "I'll see you again."

"Tomorrow?" He guesses.

You only answer with a chuckle and that doesn't put him at ease.

"It's nice seeing you guys! Good luck for tomorrow!" You say for the last time.

Waving your hands at them by the doorway, Felix catches your sad smile a second before you turn away to leave.

There's no way he's doing nothing when he knows his best friend deserves a happy ending.

To say that he's happy to see you would be an understatement.

Hyunjin is ecstatic, elated, delirious with happiness and that's just from looking at you. What would it be if he could do more than just look?

He wants to touch you, hug you, and kiss you, he's yearning for you, missing you like he's losing a limb of his body. He's alive but he's barely breathing.

Why can't you do this? Why can't you love him back? Why can't you at least try for him? Why?

That question lingers in his head until Felix stops him from entering the van. Hyunjin looks at him with eyes widening, "what's wrong?"

"Exactly!" Felix says back at him.

He grips the strap of his bag so hard that his knuckle turns white, "what is wrong with you?"

Hyunjin is not in the mood to talk, especially when he's tired and heartbroken still. He takes a step back to prevent himself from doing things he doesn't intend to.

"I'm tired," he shortly responds, then tries to walk past him to enter the van.

Felix once again stops him by putting his hand against his chest, "so that's it?"

"What do you want? Really?" Hyunjin may have raised his voice louder.

"You're not going to chase after her and try to fix it?" Felix raises his voice even louder at him.

Han pops his head out from inside the van, "guys, please?" He pleads, scared that they might lose it this time.

Hyunjin unclenches his jaws and instantly regretted snapping at him, "She said she doesn't want to do this," he meekly says.

"Then try to convince her!" Felix simply resolves.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down and lowers his voice this time, "If you really love her, then prove it to her! Go to her!"

As much as Hyunjin wanted to be with you, he thinks of Felix. Hyunjin has gone through the same thing, so he knows how it feels to be in that position, to keep both sides happy he has to sacrifice his happiness.

Hyunjin drops his bag to the floor and sighs, "what if—"

Felix takes his bag from him and tosses it into the van in which Lou grabs it in time. He then takes his phone out of his jeans pocket.

"Don't think!" He says.

Hyunjin's phone buzzes from inside his jacket pocket and opens the text Felix just sent him. It's an address.

"Just do it!" Felix adds.

But does this mean Felix is on his team?

Felix grabs Hyunjin's shoulder and shakes it, "what are you waiting for?"

While holding Hyunjin's bag, Lou says, "I'll cover for you. Go!"

Hyunjin looks at Felix and there are so many things he wanted to say to him. Among apologies, he wants to say how grateful he is for him, to be existing at the same time with him and being his friend.

All that comes out of his mouth is, "Thank you."

Hyunjin's heart is pitter-patter. He feels like it's going to jump out of his chest at any moment as he arrived in your apartment building.

He takes the stairs as if his heart rate isn't high enough, taking two stairs at a time until he gets there, right in front of your door.

There are a few things he would say that he has prepared for the moment you open the door. He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. His excitement gradually fades as every knock on your door is left unanswered.

"It's me," he says just in case you wonder who's knocking in the middle of the night.

He knocks again but there's still no answer. Getting hopeless, he leans close to the door and talks loud enough for you to hear.

"Can you please open the door for me?"

He closes his eyes and lets out a desperate sigh, "Please?"

This is what he fears the most, not the rejection but not getting the chance to explain and make things right. At least, he can go home now knowing he has tried his best.

With a heavy heart, Hyunjin turns around his feet and heads for the stairs, bumping into a person and knocking things down.

"Oh no! The eggs!" You sadly mumble as you pick up the plastic bag from the floor.

"I'm sorry!" Hyunjin mutters without thinking.

Without having to check, Hyunjin is pretty sure that he broke all the eggs as the content filled the plastic bag.

You don't even look surprised to see him, annoyed is more like it. Everything that Hyunjin has planned to say evaporated from his head. He bursts out anything that crosses his head at that moment.

"Why aren't you home?"

You look inside the plastic bag once again and sigh, "I was out to buy eggs and milk for breakfast tomorrow."

"I've been knocking at your door for an hour!"

You jerk your head back, unamused, "And I can't have eggs for my breakfast tomorrow because of you!" You scold back.

"Well, you still have the milk," he nonchalantly says then shrugs.

Hyunjin is aware of how he keeps talking without thinking and just saying everything he wants, he looks at you and you look back at him.

At the same time, you break into laughter. The hilarity lasts as long as each of you keeps breaking into another series of laughter.

When the laughs died down, he clears his throat and says, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" You ask.

"For the eggs."

"Anything else?" You ask with an eyebrow raised higher than the other.

"For coming here just now," he adds.

You nod and warmly smile at him, "Want to come in?"

Hyunjin definitely wants to come in and hopefully, will never leave.

While you're busy disposing of your broken eggs into the bin, Hyunjin walks around your new apartment and looks at each photo on the wall.

Places, sceneries, and moments captured in pictures. Looking at them, Hyunjin feels like he's looking at the world through your eyes.

"Here," you hand him a can of soda.

"These are beautiful," he compliments the photos on the wall.

"Thank you," you shortly reply.

Hyunjin opens it and takes a long gulp of it before putting it down on your desk. That's when he sees it.

"I'm offended by how you treat my token of love for you," he says.

You look around and see what he called a token of love on your desk. You guess it's the guitar pick inside the small tray full of memory cards.

You pick it up and show it to him, "this is a token of love?"

"It's my first guitar pick I used for the tour, it's meaningful, it's a token of love," he explains.

The only thing it reminds you of is how he flicked this thing at your head at the first concert, "you threw it at my head," you say with eyes widened.

"You're supposed to catch it!"

"How do I know that you want me to catch it?" You argue back.

He tips his head to the side and glares at you, "That's me telling you I like you!"

"Hyunjin, that's not how you give someone a token of love," you tell him with a snide smile.

He puts a hand on the desk to support him, "I thought you'd get it," he meekly says.

You come up to him and also put your hand on the desk, "Now you know why I thought you hated me, huh?"

It all makes sense now. He realizes he has a very unusual way to show his affection. Hyunjin sheepishly laughs and slips his hand under your arm, "Can we... hmm..."

He laughs again the moment he looks at your slyly smiling at him. Pulling you close, he asks, "Can we skip this embarrassing part and goes straight to making up then we can kiss after?"

Just having a whiff of his scent gets you intoxicated already, putting you under his spell, making you submit to his wishes, and those lips are just... incredibly tempting.

You notice that he's looking down at your lips too.

"Why don't we kiss already?" You offer a better idea.

With your permission, he doesn't waste another second to lean in and kisses you, so softly at first, and turns hungrier after a few kisses.

He still likes biting at your lower lip before pulling away, tugging it between his teeth, and making you moan as he kisses you whole, taking your breath away.

"I miss you so much," he murmurs close to your ear.

You turn your head to look at him but he captures you in a rapturous kiss, making you giggle against his lips.

"I miss you too," you murmur back the second he lets go of the kiss.

Using your finger, you trail the frame of his small, beautiful face. You admire the facial features that you believe are meticulously sculpted by God himself.

You look into his eyes as he looks back at you as if your eyes hold the universe in them, "I miss you too much."

Hyunjin sits on the edge of the desk so he can be at the same eye level as you and pulls you close, that way he can stare into your eyes and dives into them, never to come out of the surface.

"Let's do this, yeah?"

The hands that are resting on your waist, he glides them up until they are wrapped around your neck, cupping your face with both hands, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

"I think we can do anything if we're together," he says, resting his forehead against yours, "don't you think?"

Something about him that always makes you believe that you're worth more than you think, makes you believe that you can fly higher with your little wings and ride in the wind.

You open your mouth to say your answer, but he uses the opportunity to kiss your open mouth.

"I'll not take no for an answer," he mutters as his sweet smile puts you under the spell again.

You stare into his eyes, seeking the answer from his spellbinding eyes. All you have to do is put your trust in this relationship.

Just like Hyunjin said, no one has a say in this relationship, he trusts you therefore you only have to trust him back.

You nod, "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

A smile blooms on Hyunjin's face, he expressed his happiness by giving you a long, lingering kiss, one of many more kisses to come. A token of love that lasts time and age. Miraculously, his kisses always leave you wanting more and more.

His body calls to your answer as he hoists you up against his body, lifting your legs and hooking them around his waist.

"You don't want to carry me to the bedroom," you mutter against his lips.

"Huh? Why?"

"It's upstairs."

He raises his eyebrow at you, "you think I'm not strong enough to carry you there?"

You didn't mean to stroke his ego but it's amusing to see his flabbergasted face.

"Okay then, tough guy. Take me there!" You dare him.

"Hang on tight then!" He warns you.

Putting your hands around his neck, you watch over his shoulder as he takes the stairs one step at a time. The veins on his neck are bulging through his milky skin as he uses all of his strength to climb the rest of the stairs.

"Almost there!" You tease by whispering into his ear.

Without warning, he spins you around once he arrives in your bedroom, and keeps spinning until your body hits the mattress.

You're still laughing as he places his body on top of you, putting the stray hair covering your face to the side.

He places sweet little kisses all over your face and tenderly kisses your closed eyelids before putting his lips on yours again. His hand is busy undressing you, seamlessly removing each piece of clothing without taking his lips off of you.

He whimpers as he freely roams his hand around your body, "I almost forgot how soft you are," he dreamily sighs.

You roll over on the bed and have him under you, hovering above him as your hand is working open the buttons of his shirt. You don't know how he undressed you without looking, it's certainly not easy.

You part it open after successfully unbuttoning his shirt, touching and trailing his taut muscles with your fingertips.

Hyunjin snakes his hand around and under you, tracing the curve of your rear, kneading on the flesh with his fingers teasing the fabric of your underwear.

Before you can say anything he crashes his lips at you again, kissing you harder and deeper with teeth and tongues clashing in your mouth.

With his lips glistening wet and red, words falling out of it like a waterfall.

"I love you," he softly mutters.

It's a liberating feeling to know that you don't have to hide, not have to worry about people coming, knocking at your door, and interrupting you. Other than that, you're no longer shackled by the fear of being seen with him.

With that, you slowly let go of all your worries and insecurities that stopping you from enjoying the moment. From now on, you allow yourself to have him and him to have you, wholly and completely, with all of your heart.

"I love you too," you mutter back.

That being said, you also letting go of the fears around you and replacing them with excitement about your future together.

It's so dangerous.

When Hyunjin thinks that you're the cutest when you're shy around him, that's because he hasn't you being bold and confident.

Your hand moves down to undo the button of his jeans and it's only a matter of time now, he gets to feel your hand wrapped around his length.

Bet you know how much he wanted you right now as you slowly pull it out of its confine and slowly stroke it.

What are you trying to do? He wonders.

You hover above him and kiss him deep that he has a hard time catching up with it, losing the air in his lungs and gasping for air the moment you let go. With your face merely inches away from him, you shot him a sly, seductive smile as if telling him what's coming for him and he wonders...

You start making a long trail of kisses down his body, neck, chest, ribs, stomach, and abdomen. He knows where are you heading next and he's not going to stop you despite his heart beating so fast at an abnormal rate.

The hair that sweeps his skin, tickles him, sending tingles inside and down there. It's nothing compares to when you slowly take his length in your mouth, little by little.

Propping an elbow against the mattress, Hyunjin looks at how your lips wrapped around his cock and uses a hand to compensate for the rest that you can't take.

"Oh fu—" he stops himself from cursing and reaches for your head, tangling his hand in your hair.

Mesmerized by watching you, he snaps out of his daze when you pull away and ask, "Good?"

Hyunjin, unable to provide a verbal answer, awkwardly nods.

You pull his jeans down his legs while Hyunjin shakes his shirt hanging on his shoulders, and tosses it away. Shifts his attention back to you, snaking his hand to your back to unclasp your bra and take it off of you.

Can't help himself, he buries his head in your neck, placing kisses down to your chest with his hand cupping your breast.

Drunk with the scent of your body, using both hands, he uses them to pull your underwear down your legs and gets it out of the way so he can put his hand to feel that delicate flesh under his touch.

Hyunjin thinks about you a lot, asleep or awake. However, the reality is always out of his expectations, in the best way. Sitting on the bed with you with both your hands stimulating each other at the same time. Nothing can be sexier than this.

Hyunjin was too haste to say that because the next thing you say is the sexiest thing he ever heard.

"Can I do what I want with you?"

That gets him slightly terrified but mostly excited, he doesn't know what you're going to do with him but he knows that it's going to be a thrill ride. He nods without even thinking.

Putting your hand on his chest, you lay him down on the bed and put your body on top, kissing him, making him forget the excitement that drives him almost crazy.

The next thing he knows you're rubbing up your wetness on his erect shaft, pulsating with desire.

Before his senses slip further away from him, he calls for you, "Baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Condoms?" He reminds you.

You give him a quick peck on the lips, "do you mind if we're doing it without?"

Hyunjin needs time to process it so that he doesn't say anything for a good minute.

You kiss his open mouth, "why are you so tense?"

"I-is it okay with you?" He stammers.

"That's why I asked."

"I don't want to pressure you to do things you don't want."

You subtly roll your eyes at him, "I initiated it. What makes you think that I don't want to do this?"

This is not what he expects to happen, bickering in the middle of sex. The second your eyes meet, you collapse onto his body and chuckle into his chest.

"We don't match well," Hyunjin mumbles.

"Well, we hated each other from the first time we met," you say.

He lifts your head and glares at you, "Huh? I never hated you."

You pout and shrug, "But it showed."

Hyunjin lets out a dramatic sigh out loud, "Yeah, well, what do you even know?"

You smile as you land a kiss on his lips, "what do you even know?" You repeat.

It's dangerous seeing you taking over his body, pleasing him by moving your hips back and forth and he gets to watch while comfortably lying on his back.

Yeah, it's cute to see you keep avoiding his eyes during sex but it's a whole different thing when you fiercely look down at him, then into his eyes while continuously moving.

Hyunjin almost forgot that he can still use his hands to admire your body, holding your breasts as they move along with every movement you make.

"Good?" You ask as you change your move and slowly roll your hips in circular motions.

Hyunjin's eyes are fluttering shut, overwhelmed.

"Too good, baby," he breathlessly replies.

He glides his hand to touch your lips only for you to suck on his thumb which reminds him of what your mouth feels like around his cock.

"Too good," he says again.

He brushes your hair to the side and looks at your pretty face, "you should stop staring at me with those eyes?"

That only sends you lean in close and stare deeply into your eyes, "or what?"

He groans as he feels you clenching around him and you enjoy doing it to him from that sly smile on your face.

"I'm going to cum too fast," he admits, he's been holding it for far too long now. It's actually a surprise that he didn't cum the moment he fully entered you.

"So what's the problem with that?" You simply ask.

Hyunjin doesn't want to cum before you, that's the problem.

You put your hand against the mattress and caress his face, "you don't want to cum inside me?" you boldly ask with an innocent pout on your face.

A stifled moan escapes his mouth as you grab the headboard of the bed for support and pick up the pace of your movements, driving him to his limit.

Hyunjin can't stop himself from grunting from under you, his nails dug into your flesh as he gripped your waist. His eyes screwed shut and his grunts turned into breathless whimpers then...

You slow down the pace knowing that he just climaxing but keep moving nonetheless, lowly moaning feeling his cock twitching inside you.

The moment he opens his eyes, you are looking at him with a smile on your face, "Hi, baby," you softly speak as if you didn't just make him cum inside you.

"Hi," he weakly says back, bringing your face close to kiss you.

Slowly, he pulls you to lay next to him on the bed to cuddle you and kisses you more. He places more kisses on any skin he can put his lips on and you let him have it.

As he lays there with you next to him, basking in love and bliss, he wonders if is it okay for him to feel this much.

The only thing Hyunjin knows for certain is who he should thank.

The coffee machine has started pouring coffee into the pot when you hear Hyunjin calling for you from upstairs.

He's not going to stop unless you come and show yourself to him. Half running to your bedroom, you find him still laying on the bed with his upper body exposed, basking in the warm morning sun.

"I was making coffee," you tell him as you walk to the bed and crawl over to him.

"Who needs coffee when I have you?" He wraps his hands around you and holds you close.

Without warning, he turns you over on the bed and pinned you under him, intensely gazing into your eyes with his warm brown eyes.

"Now that we're together, I was hoping I get to finally wake up next to you," he says.

You rest your hand on the back of his neck, raking his dark locks with your fingers, "we did."

"No, I woke up to an empty bed," he corrects you.

The way he sulks is adorable, his lower lip jutting out and a crease formed between his eyebrows. You don't think he would be fussing this much about waking up alone when he knows he's staying over at your place.

As an apology, you softly kiss him on the lips, "I'm sorry."

He smiles after hearing your apology, "Apology accepted."

"Already?"

He nods.

"Then we should go downstairs. The coffee is ready," you tell him.

He stops you from trying to get up and takes both of your hands to pin them above your head. Shaking his head, he says, "Not yet."

You sense mischief and you can see it in his eyes, filled with wild glints. You can't do much with him pinning your hands against the mattress.

Hyunjin kisses you, hard and deep, his tongue invades your mouth with teeth faintly biting on your lips.

A moan spills out of you as he starts gently kissing, sucking the skin on your neck. There's no need to guess, it's obvious that he wants to return the favor to you.

With the knowledge that you know what he can do with every part of his body and puts it to good use, you lay back and let him please you as he wants.

Hyunjin puts the duvet away, exposing both of your bodies to the sunlight flooding the room as the day gets brighter. His skin is glowing and warm, he's scintillating like the sun itself.

The way he slowly thrusts into you without looking away from your eyes, not even for a second feels like it's not just physical pursuit.

"Look at you," he says.

He cups your jaw in one hand, "You dare to look back at me now."

That makes you aware that you've been staring back into his eyes and instantly looking away from him. Hyunjin chuckles as he kisses your cheek.

"You feel so good, baby," he whispers into your ear.

You hook your legs around him, sending him deeper into you.

"But last night... oh..." he sighs as he hastily kisses your neck.

"You fuck me so good last night I don't think I'll ever forget it," he adds.

With those beautiful lips, he can say provocative words and makes them sound like poems, making you extremely aroused and deeply in love at once.

Sending you close to your high that you gripping his shoulders from the sensation that keeps building up.

"Close, mmh?" His lips brush yours as he speaks.

You nod with your eyes closed.

"Cum whenever you want, beautiful," he murmurs before planting his lips on yours again.

His lips which keep latching on yours, contained your loud moans as you get your release. The knot inside you tightens and loosens, waves of pleasure washing over you again and again.

With your eyes still closed, you search for his lips to kiss and when you finally did, you say, "Thanks to you, we can't have eggs for breakfast."

"Are holding a grudge against me?" Hyunjin asks in disbelief.

Sadly, this heavenly moment has to eventually end. You have a job to do and Hyunjin has to go back for a soundcheck, Vin has been calling him non-stop since he gets into the bathroom to shower.

"You'll come, right?" He asks as he walks around the room, picking up his clothes from the floor and putting them on.

"I don't know how long I'll be working," you honestly tell him.

He stops moving and sulks again, "You have to come!"

You softly laugh and sip your coffee before answering, "I may be late but I'll come, yes."

It's all he wants, he wants you to come no matter what but that's what you can promise him. His phone is buzzing again and you see that it's Lou.

You pick it up for him, "yes, he's putting on his shirt right now."

Lou laughs hearing your voice, "Hope the bed is alright."

"It's alright. I just have to wash the sheet," you jokingly say.

"Ugh!" He groans in disgust.

"Tell him I'm waiting outside," Lou adds.

"Okay, I'll tell him," you confirm and hang up the phone.

Hyunjin knows even before you say anything, but still, you tell him, "Lou is waiting."

You head downstairs, finishing your cup of coffee right on time as Hyunjin lands on the base of the stairs. You come running to hug him and he catches you on time.

"I'll be waiting for you," he says, pecking your lips after.

"I'll be late," you remind him again.

"That's okay," he says.

He kisses your lips again and not letting go until you're running out of breath.

"But know that I'll be waiting for you," he says with a playful glare.

You laugh and kiss him back, "Don't make Lou wait too long!"

With another long kiss on the lips and the last one on the top of your head, Hyunjin finally lets go with a smile on his face. And as much as you are reluctant to do the same, you slowly let him go, selflessly sharing him with the rest of the world.

The first thing Hyunjin hears by the time he steps into the green room is Han's whistle, eyes squinting at him with a malicious smile drawn on his face.

"Ooo... look at that glow on you, Hwang Hyunjin!" Han teases.

Hyunjin hates it when someone calls him by his full name and Han uses it exactly to annoy him. He picks up a towel from a stack provided on the desk and throws it at him.

"Shut up!"

That only amuses Han more as he's laughing on the sofa. Ignoring him, Hyunjin comes up to Felix who's having his lunch by himself.

Hyunjin picks a pack of lunch for him and sits next to him.

"She's coming tonight, right?" Felix asks.

Hyunjin puts down his chopsticks next to his lunch, "yes, but she has to do a job first so she'll be late," he explains.

Felix nods and continues eating, holding his phone in one hand as he scrolls down his social media.

There's something that should be said in this moment and Hyunjin knows what to say but doesn't know how to begin.

"Felix?"

He turns his head at him, "Yeah?"

Hyunjin scratches the back of his head, "I... uh... we're thankful that—"

Felix's deep laughter startles him, "Why thanking me? You're the one who successfully got her back."

That confuses Hyunjin too but he knows for sure that he has to thank Felix for encouraging him to fight for you.

Felix takes a sip of his water and swallows it, "I'm happy seeing my friends happy. That's enough for me."

Hyunjin scoffs and not in a sarcastic way. It just baffled him how there's someone as kindhearted as Felix existed in this world. When he thinks that Felix has done speaking, he turns at Hyunjin again, "But Hyunjin..."

"Yes?"

"If you ever had a change of heart," he says as he gazes into his eyes, "just kindly tell her."

Hyunjin nods.

"Don't hurt her," Felix finishes.

Hyunjin knows that behind that tender gaze, he's warning him that he's ready to go against him if he ever caught him breaking your heart.

Hyunjin thinks that you're lucky to have a friend like him which reminds him that he's just as lucky to have a precious friend. That inexplicably urges Hyunjin to protect him more because a person like Felix belongs in a fairytale, not in this cruel, cruel world.

"Come on! Come on!"

Lou hurries you to run and get to his pace as he leads the way to the stage. You're late and Lou can't leave his post too long, he's risking his job as we speak.

Learned from experience, you're slowing down when it comes to climbing the stairs in the dark since Lou doesn't have time to turn on the flashlight on his phone.

The band is in the middle of playing the song when you finally take the spot on the side of the stage and exchange a quick hug with Vin to finally enjoy the show.

It's certainly nostalgic to be there. A few things changed but some remain the same. It's bittersweet but you only want to focus on the latter part.

It's when the band finished the song, Hyunjin sees that you're here. He looks rather elated to see you, he wants to come but hesitates to do so.

You wave your hand at him instead and mouthed, "Told you I'm coming."

He foolishly smiles and eventually caves in, walking to the side of the stage, handing Lou his guitar before grabbing you by the waist and kissing you.

"Hi, you," he mutters.

"Hi," you say back then gets cut off as he kisses you again.

Lou, in an annoyed tone, says, "Okay, lovebird, time to get back to the stage."

You gently push him away as the band is about to play another song.

Hyunjin grabs his guitar back from Lou and slung the strap around his shoulder, "I love you," he mouthed.

You cup your hands around your mouth and mouth it back to him, "I love you."

Oblivious to the fact that Lou is witnessing everything and looking disgusted, horrified, not amused. You respond with what he always gives you, a nonchalant shrug.

Turn your attention elsewhere, you wave your hand at Felix as he's passionately drumming, busy using both hands and feet to keep the rhythm going.

"Felix, the greatest drummer in the world!" You shout at him, sending him grinning and almost losing his focus.

For the last song, Lou puts his arm around you to dance and jump together, ignoring your lungs burning from running out of air.

You cheer loudly as the band takes their final bow at the end of the show and gets ready to welcome them at the back of the stage.

A grin rises on your face at the sight of Felix, you come up to him and give him the hug when it's usually his job to do so.

"Why are you so cool, huh?" you aggressively ask while patting his back.

You keep hugging him, long enough until it emptied the emotions in your chest, "I am so proud of you!" You sincerely tell him.

He kisses your cheek, "Thank you, babe!"

Aware that someone else is waiting for his turn to hug you, Felix reluctantly lets you go. You see Hyunjin appears behind him, ignoring the exhaustion and sweat rolling down his face, he's slipping his hands under and holding you close.

"You're not going to say anything nice to me?" He asks.

You pretend to think and stalls from answering, "Uhm... no," you joke.

With his hand on the back of your head, he angles your head to kiss you again, deeper than before.

"You taste salty," you comment.

He looks down at his t-shirt soaked in sweat but instead of pulling away, he pulls your hands tighter around him, leaving you no option but to let his sweat seep into your clothes as well.

Hyunjin leans in to kiss you but someone holds him back from doing it, "It's my turn now," Han says.

Han looks at you, "I'm getting a kiss too, right?"

Hyunjin pushes him away and possessively puts his arm around you, "Not a chance!"

However Hyunjin can't linger around you for long and you sneak a kiss on Han's cheek when he's not looking, "There you go!"

Han is looking taken aback by the kiss as he touches his cheek, wide eyes and dazed.

Hyunjin turns around to take your hand, "Come, baby!"

You look over your shoulder at Han and gesture to him to zip his lips, keeping it a secret between you two.

Han confirmed with a wink shot at you.

You look down at your clasped hands and then at him as he brushes all of his hair to the back, "Hyunjin?"

He pulls you close to his side, "yes?"

"Does it mean I can have you for myself again?" You ask.

He smiles hearing that and nods, "I'm all yours now."

Felix may have not gotten his love but he surely gets his happiness, double, triple even.

He's happy to see you happy, to still have this precious friendship with you, and remains best of friends. A friend that he can always call in both good times and bad times. A friend he can freely be himself and not be afraid of being judged.

And as he looks at you sitting with Hyunjin, whispering words to each other, looking so in love and happy. He's happy about that too.

Happy that both of his friends found love and are happy with each other and he wishes it stays like that for a long, long time.

At last, Felix is happy for his band, especially after successfully finishing the tour. In this after-party, he can see that this happiness belongs to everyone who takes part in making each show happen.

It's happiness after happiness after happiness. His heart is overflowing with nothing but happiness.

What everyone doesn't know is that behind that happiness, there's that drop of pain.

Felix still needs time to finally let go of his love, it's not easy considering that his object of affection is always around him.

Even a drop, it still stings and constantly prickles at his heart.

Felix consoles himself with a glass of drink in his hand as he looks at the night sky, he likes to think that the crescent shape is the moon smiling down at him.

"What are you doing out here alone?" Lou asks, shattering the intimate moment Felix is having with the moon.

Felix sheepishly smiles, "nothing. Just drinking," he says, showing him the lukewarm whiskey in his glass.

Lou nods and stands next to him, also looking up at the night sky and looking at the same moon. A gust of cold wind blowing his way but Felix wants to stay here longer.

"It'll pass," Lou suddenly says.

That makes Felix's head turn, "Pardon?"

Lou looks at him and says it again, firmly this time.

"It'll pass."

Felix doesn't know he needed to hear it until he did and that inexplicably rejuvenated his spirit. An ending is an opportunity for another beginning.

"You're right," Felix agrees.

"Of course I'm right," Lou boldly remarks, holding out his drink at him.

Felix clinked his glass together with him for a toast, feeling eager to begin again.

As for Lou, he's finally standing right in front of him for the first time, seeing him eye to eye, perhaps, Felix can see him now and knows that he's been there all along.

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rollingsins · 10 months

Text

all hers, part xxv

summary: Nurse Rosario gets a little too familiar for Tara's liking.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of violence.

word count: 3k

a/n: get ready for a chapter of *angry pookie noises*

You manage to sleep through the night with little disturbance.

Tara attempts to sleep (what looks somewhat uncomfortably) sprawled across your lap, the plastic hospital bed barrier jutting into her stomach before you pull her up and into the bed on your good side.

Sam makes a bed for herself near the side of the room by pushing two chairs next to each other.

You’d tell her to go home and get a good night’s sleep but you know better than to suggest she leaves Tara. And she knows better to suggest Tara leaves you.

So you leave her be. Maybe, when you’re moved over to Woodsboro General, you’ll ask them for a pull-out bed for her. It’s the least you can do, after all. She had, in all essence, saved your life.

Nurse Rosario knocks a little while later.

Tara’s still a little drowsy against your shoulder when she enters.

“How’s my favorite patient?” Nurse Rosario asks, twinkle in her eye and a spring in her step.

“I’m okay,” Says Tara before you can respond. She lets out a sleepy yawn, “Could have slept better, these beds are awful.”

You share a look with Nurse Rosario.

“I don’t think she was talking to you, babe,” You say. She blinks, then blushes. You ruffle her hair, fondly, “I’m alright. No pain.”

“Then, the morphine is doing its job,” Says Nurse Rosario with a quiet hum. She checks your chart.

“Looks like you’re being transferred today, around 11am. I’m going to redress the bandage, and then we’ll give you a bath. Sound good?”

Tara sits up.

“A bath?” She asks, brow furrowed, “Like a naked bath?”

Sam sighs, heavily.

“I’m going to get some coffee.” She mumbles, offering you a ‘good luck, you’re on your own’ kind of glance.

The Nurse puts down your chart, nonplussed.

“What other kinds of baths are there, Tara?”

You bite your lip, rub Tara’s back. Gone are the heart eyes she’d had for Nurse Rosario last night. Now, it looks like she might leap across the bed and punch her.

“I don’t need a bath,” You say, hurriedly, trying to get ahead of the problem, “It’s fine. I’ll have one when I get back to Woodsboro.”

Nurse Rosario looks between you, a little confused. But she doesn’t protest.

“Alright,” She says, “Your call. I’ll go get some fresh gauze and I’ll be back in five.”

Tara’s seething when she leaves.

An all too familiar darkness settles behind her eyes.

She hops out of the bed, leaving you wincing at the way the bed shakes.

“That was so unprofessional,” She says, with indignation on her face as she looks over to you, “Did you hear that, baby? She wanted to get you naked.”

“She wanted to give me a bath because she’s a nurse and that’s her job.” You correct, but Tara isn’t listening to you.

She glares out the window, looking over to Nurse Rosario who’s compiling medical supplies at one of the nurses stations.

“A bath? Right before you’re about to be transferred to a new hospital?” Tara says, “It’s outrageous.”

“I’m sure it’s standard procedure, babe.” You say, voice tired.

It's too early for this. You don't have enough morphine for this.

She bites her lip, then looks over to you.

“She’s not touching you,” Tara tells you, voice hot, “Who knows what kind of perverted pleasure she’s getting out of it. I’m changing your bandages myself-”

“You are not." You say immediately.

Tara whirls around.

“But, babe-” Tara whines.

“No, Tara.” You say, voice final, “Go sit over there and be quiet. If you say anything rude to Nurse Rosario you’re not sleeping with me tonight. You’ll have to make yourself a bed in the waiting room.”

Tara stares.

Her eyes narrow, like she’s about to call your bluff.

“Don’t make me call Sam.” You threaten.

That does it.

Tara’s bottom lip juts out in a pout, but she does what she’s told. With all the energy of a toddler being told they can’t have their favorite snack, she stomps over to Sam’s vacant chair and sets herself down.

For good measure, she offers you a glare to signal how unhappy she is.

“Alright,” Nurse Rosario says, fresh bandage in hand, with all the pleasantness of someone who didn’t have to partake in the last thirty seconds of conversation, “Let’s get you fixed up, sweetie.”

When Sam comes back, coffee in hand, Nurse Rosario is wrapping a fresh bandage around your torso.

Tara’s glaring at her, arms crossed.

The tension in the room is palpable, and you’re a little concerned Nurse Rosario feels it too.

“Sam, why don’t you and Tara go get some breakfast?” You suggest.

Sam looks over at Tara.

“No.” Says Tara, teeth clenched.

Sam sets her coffee down on the table. There are bags under her eyes, no doubt from her makeshift chair-bed.

She looks far too tired to deal with her storm-cloud sister.

“Come on, Tara,” Sam urges, quietly, “We’ll go get YN a blueberry muffin or something. The food here looks awful.”

She shoots a look at the nurse.

“No offense.”

“None taken,” Chuckles Nurse Rosario. She makes the finishing touches on your new bandage, “There we go, all done.”

She squeezes your hip, lightly.

Tara doesn’t miss it. Her eyes go wide in outrage, as if Nurse Rosario has just leaned in and planted a kiss to your lips.

“Thanks, Nurse Rosario.” You say, hurriedly, racking your brain to think of something for Tara to do before she stands up and tackles the nurse, “Baby, can you get me some water, please?”

“I’ll get you water.” Says Nurse Rosario, helpfully.

“I’m her girlfriend, I’ll get it.” Growls Tara. She all but snatches the carafe from the nurse's hand.

You close your eyes and sigh.

“Thanks, Nurse Rosario,” Intervenes Sam. She all but pushes the confused Nurse out the door in an effort to get rid of her, “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

Sam turns back into the room.

You look mad, almost as mad as Tara.

Sam purses her lips, and decides within seconds she doesn’t want to be part of this conversation. If you could walk without wincing, you'd do the same.

“I’ll… go get some more coffee.” Sam mumbles, sounding resigned. She sees herself out before you can get a word in.

Tara circles your bed like a shark in bloody water.

“Baby,” You say, voice pinched as she leans in and presses a possessive kiss to the top of your head, “That was so not cool-”

Tara leans back, her eyebrows furrowed. She looks confused.

“Are you mad at me?” She asks, disbelievingly, “You’re mad at me for defending your honor?”

“You weren’t defending my honor, Tara, you were being jealous and possessive-”

“Protective.” Tara corrects. She blinks, hurt rising behind her eyes, “You’re mad at me for protecting you?”

You sigh, pinching your nose with your fingertips.

She just doesn't get it.

“Are we seriously going to fight right now because of her?” Tara asks, voice high, “Is this because you think I have a crush on her? You’re punishing me?”

“No, Tara,” You say, voice hot, “You were rude. For no reason. Possessive. For no reason. Do you seriously think that married woman in her forties is interested in me?”

“Everybody else is,” Tara says, voice sharp, “Chase, Aaron, Sadie, Amber, Wes. I feel like I have to fight off the entire town just to keep you.”

“Baby.” You sigh.

The anger drains out of your body.

You know it’s not her fault, it’s just the way she is. But sometimes, times like these, it’s like she’s not even trying.

It’s like she’s just letting The Rage take over.

You sigh.

“Come here.” You murmur, gesturing to the spot next to you.

She doesn’t give you time to change your mind. She climbs into the spot next to you, settling her head against your chest, big brown eyes wide as they look up at you.

You press a kiss to her forehead and tangle your fingers in her hair.

“We talked about this,” You say quietly, “I told you, Tara. You’re the only person I want to be with.”

“But what if you change your mind?” Tara says, voice small, “What if one day I’m not looking and you decide you want to be with someone like her? Someone normal. Someone… not like me.”

She blinks. Her eyes swim with fear.

You lean down and kiss her, softly. Her eyes flutter shut.

“That’s not going to happen,” You say, voice firm.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that, or I wouldn’t say it.”

“But what if you change your mind?”

She’s staring up at you, eyes flitting between yours, searching for reassurance.

“Do you think I would put up with all your bullshit if I wasn’t sure?” You say, trying to keep your tone light. She’s impossible when she gets like this. Needy. Antsy. Searching for validation in your words that’s never good enough.

Usually, you’d use your body to console her.

That always seems to work.

But now, in a hospital bed with a three inch stab wound in your stomach, you’ll have to talk. Like a healthy couple.

A couple that has never been the two of you.

She frowns, slightly. You watch as her guard draws up.

“You seem to like my bullshit when it suits you.” She snipes, the tips of her ears turning red in anger, “You seem to like me being possessive when I’m fucking you. But what? You don’t like it in real life?”

She sits up and pulls away from you.

“Tara-”

“No, babe.” She says, climbing back out of the bed, “That’s just not how it works. I can’t turn it off, don’t you understand?”

Her eyes are wide, desperate.

“I do understand, baby,” You say. You sit up, wincing as it tugs at your stitches, “I know and I’m trying to help you. Please, come lay back down.”

But her arms are crossed.

Her anger has been redirected towards you.

It’s not the fiery kind of anger she reserves for everyone else. It’s pouty. Cold.

Silent treatment for hours kind of cold.

You lean across the bed and try to grab her hand but she pulls back.

“Tara.” You groan, “Honey, please.”

“I think I’m going to go find Sam,” Tara says, “I don’t want to subject you to anymore of my bullshit.”

She sits down, angrily shimmies her feet into her converse.

“Don’t leave mad, babe, please-” You beg but she’s committed to her dramatic storm out.

She does this sometimes. Through and through a drama queen.

And you do the only thing you know will stop her from leaving.

You swing your legs over the bed and try to follow.

A sharp pain ripples through your body. You can't muffle your gasp. She whirls around, stormy eyes widening as she sees.

“What are you doing?” She hisses, hurrying back over, icy façade melted within moments, “Get back into bed.”

Her arms are around your shoulders, trying to lift you back into the bed. You let her resettle you, clinging onto her bicep.

“You’re not getting out of this conversation,” You tell her, “Either you come back into bed and we talk or I’ll follow you down the hall and bleed all over the floor.”

Tara huffs.

“Your little girlfriend would love that,” She says, under her breath, “Give her another chance to put her hands all over you.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, babe.” You say. She tries to withdraw, but you grip onto her tighter, “You’re jealous and there’s nothing to be jealous about.”

“I can’t help it-” She tries again, sounding aggravated.

You grip her hand, touch soft, “I know, baby. I know it’s not your fault.”

She eyes you suspiciously, like she’s not sure why you’re suddenly on her side.

“Don’t be mad at me, Tara,” You say, reaching out to touch her cheek, “I don’t want to fight. We don’t fight. We’re too in love, remember?”

“You started it.” Tara says, voice gruff, like she has to have the last word.

You let her have it.

Try to pull her down once more. This time, she doesn’t resist. She lets you settle her against your chest, careful not to touch your wound. You press a long kiss against her head and scrape your fingers under the hem of her shirt, just wanting to touch her skin.

You watch her for a quiet moment.

Her heart is pounding, you can feel it through her shirt. Her skin is clammy, her cheeks still red. She’s in fight or flight mode, the way she always is when The Rage gets bad like this. You rub her back gently, trying to soothe her.

“When I passed out, I had a weird dream.” You murmur. Her breathing is ragged, and you know she’s still a little upset, but she looks up at you anyway. Gives you her full attention, the way she always does.

“What kind of weird dream?” She asks, eyebrows knit.

“I saw Chase,” You say. You grip her a little tighter, “And Wes. I talked to them.”

“Oh.” Says Tara. She’s blinking, like she’s not sure where this is going, “What did you talk about?”

“My subconscious.” You say, weak smile on your face, “I think he was my subconscious. I think they both were.”

You press another kiss to the top of her head.

She’s calmer now, her heartbeat slowed to match yours.

You thread your fingers through her hair, scratch her scalp fondly.

“I’ve been trying to work out what it meant,” You admit, “Dreams always mean something, right?”

“Not always,” Says Tara, nose crinkled, “I had a dream last night I turned into a bee and you thought I’d died.”

You snort.

She whacks you, gently, but a smile blooms on her face.

“It’s not funny,” She says, “You had a funeral for me and everything. Sam was inconsolable.”

“Do you often have dreams like that?” You ask, a little curious, “Dreams that separate you from me?”

She’s quiet.

“Yeah.” She says, quietly, “They’re usually more violent. But they’re all the same.”

She blinks up at you, pretty brown eyes mournful, “I lose you and you move on without me.”

“Babe,” You say, touching her cheek, “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

She closes her eyes at your touch. For a moment, she looks a little sad.

You lean down and press a kiss to her lips.

And then pull back, a little hesitant.

“My parents want me to see a therapist,” You say, biting your lip, “At first, I said no because I didn’t think… I didn’t want to say too much, but now I think they’re right.”

She stares up at you. You half expect her to get mad again. Withdraw from you and leave the room in a huff. But she doesn’t, she just watches, quietly.

You swallow.

“I want you to come with me,” You say, softly, “It might help. We can put The Rage to bed for once and for all.”

Her lips tilt.

She offers you a sad smile.

“There’s no getting rid of The Rage, babe,” She says, “Don’t you think my parents tried? I’ve been to every therapist within a fifty mile radius. But it doesn’t help. I’m just… bad. Wired wrong, that’s what my Mom always said.”

She looks so small.

You tilt your arms around her, protectively.

“Your Mom’s a self-obsessed idiot,” You tell her, “She doesn’t know you. Not like I know you. You’re not bad, you’re just…”

She quirks an eyebrow.

“Misguided,” You settle, “Your intentions are good, baby, you just… need some help.”

“You’re helping me,” She mumbles into your chest, “I don’t need anyone else. Before you knew I would have killed that nurse for what she did just now.”

Your heart flips. Not in a good way.

You hate when you’re reminded of the things she’s done for you.

“The killing is only half the problem,” You say, and she furrows her brow, looking up at you again, “Okay, maybe seventy-five percent of the problem. But it’s just a symptom. A manifestation of the source.”

You rub her back.

“And I need it too, babe. I need to process everything. What you did. What I did.”

“And how are you supposed to do that without revealing everything?” Tara asks, quietly, “Babe, this isn’t like talking about depression or something, we’re talking about murder.”

You rub your eyes, suddenly tired.

“I don’t know,” You confess, “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ll talk to someone and it won’t help. But I have to try. And I want you to try too.”

You kiss the top of her head once more.

“Will you do it, babe? For me?”

You look into her eyes, searchingly. She’s hesitant, you can tell by the way she’s frowning, only slightly.

But then she softens, snuggling back into your chest.

“I’d do anything for you,” She admits, quietly, “Surely you know that by now.”

Your heart soars.

You curl your hand around the back of her neck.

Her heart has slowed to a steady pulse. Her eyes are closed. The Rage is gone. You press a final kiss to the top of her head, scratch your fingers lightly along the back of her neck.

You know her moods better than anything. Better than the tides of the moon or the intricate weave of the stars. In her eyes, Nurse Rosario is a villain she’s fought and conquered. She’s won, just by being here and having you under her. By having you whisper words of reassurance to her lips.

Nurse Rosario is a non-factor.

So you decide to keep the mood light.

“Anything, huh?” You murmur, eyes sparking with mischief, “I guess this is a bad time to ask for a threesome with my new favorite nurse?”

Her head jerks up.

Her eyes spark, but they settle the moment she sees the smile on your lips.

Her eyes narrow and she huffs, dropping back down to curl into your chest.

“You’re a fucking jerk,” She grumbles.

You kiss her once more.

“We’ll talk about it in therapy.” You smile.

#all hers #tara carpenter #ghostface!tara #jenna ortega #scream vi #jenna ortega x reader #scream #mine #fanfic #tara carpenter x yn #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you

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pinkie-pop · 8 months

Text

"We've Seen The Devil—He Was Hiding In The Mirror."

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Twisted Wonderland Various x Reader, Self-Aware AU, Yandere TWST

Synopsis: A final oath is made, a covenant of your own. Oh, how you wish you could take it all back.

Word count: 4k

Includes: Agoraphobia, anxiety, PTSD, panic attacks, death (mention), description of injury, suicide (mention),

"You are no savior—nor purpose nor God. You are damnation—a phony and fraud.

--------------

You do not quite know why you took their hand. Perhaps it was because you felt some semblance of compassion towards the one who was first. Perhaps it was because you were afraid of what they might do, should you refuse them. Or maybe it was nothing more than a reaction—they reached out their hand, and you took it. Automatically. Unthinkingly.

You do not quite know why you took their hand. Though, logically, you know you shouldn't have. Humans are anything but logical, however—you've served as the unfortunate witness enough times to know it well. So really, it is not surprising that you took their hand, only unfortunate.

And that unfortunate decision has turned into something you cannot escape. You cannot very well take back your promise. The second your hand made contact with theirs, the Wraith dispersed around you. And porcelain turned to flesh. Yuu became real. Flesh and blood from metal and wires, from pottery and glue. Whatever they may be made of, it was solid. Solid enough to stand before you, crushing your lungs with their iron grip.

You suppose you may as well try to use it to your advantage. You reason that it is good to have someone on your side, and that it is better to have a crazy person with you than no one at all. You don't mean to diminish Grim's efforts—it is thanks to him that you are still breathing, after all—but his presence does not exactly instill confidence. At the very least, Yuu is big enough to serve as a meat shield. A rather macabre thought, for sure—but one may reason that you can be forgiven for it, considering all that has happened thus far.

You flinch as omething pokes your eye, effectively dragging you out of your thoughts. You attempt to retract your face from the protruding object, but a familiar hand on your chin tightens its grip to keep you still.

"If you keep squirming you're going to ruin it," Yuu says, dabbing your face with a cloth to redo the eyeliner you had unintentionally smudged. They work in silence for a few more minutes as you try to stay still. "All done. Take a look." You take a hesitant peek at the reflection in the mirror Yuu held up. It was them who had talked you into letting them apply makeup to your face. Originally, you were only going to make use of the concealer to hide what lay under your eyes, but Yuu insisted on a full look. You agreed under the condition that they kept it to the minimum, which, looking at you now, was a promise they seemed to uphold.

"You look ravishing. What do you think?"

"I think it's quite the fortunate coincidence that your skin is the same shade as mine." They smile at that. Their smile is as mysterious as ever, you’ve grown used to it now, though. Though, you have noticed a hint of ever-present jubilance in them after taking their hand. Julbilance which has not so much as wavered despite the days that have passed.

"Is everything else ready?" Yuu nods.

"Are ya' sure ya' wanna do this?" Grim's voice is laced with concern as he looks over the two of you. You hesitate.

"It's something I have to do," you say, your voice holding firm despite the anxiety crawling underneath. "Let's not waste any more time. The bell will be ringing soon." It felt like an eternity ago, but you still remember the bells. Do you fear them for what they prelude? Or are you grateful for their warning?

It is of no consequence. They ring all the same.

Today, you will be among the students who clamor and fill the hallways at the bell’s demand. The mere thought has you turning pale, but you pay yourself little mind. This is something that you must do.

Something squeezes your hand. It’s Yuu. Their touch is cold and uncomforting. Even so, you squeeze back. Yuu, you’ve realized, is quite touchy. They don’t respond well to rejection, either.

“We won’t stay for the whole day,” they reassure you. You nod. Right. You won’t stay for the whole day. You will show your face and then leave.

After taking a deep breath, you slowly put one foot in front of the other and step forward, then again, and again. You walk carefully, imagining the path in front of you to be a field of landminds, with a shoddy metal detector as your only salvation.

One step, clear.

Two steps, clear.

No landmines yet. You are safe.

Three steps, clear.

You are gaining confidence.

Four steps, clear.

You pick up speed.

Five steps, fail.

Your whole body is weightless as you fall. It feels as if you are an astronaut hurtling through space. Your knees collapse under you, but you do not hit the ground. It would seem your metal detector has grown limbs and saved you. You stare up at Yuu, body lying limp in their arms. If they have trouble supporting your weight, it does not show. Your legs feel like jelly, but you stand on them anyway. Each step is more difficult than the last, and you fall again at step eleven.

Another day is crossed off of your calendar. This was your fourth attempt. You made it to step forty-threethe first day. The day after, you made it to step twenty-two, then succeeded for twelve steps, today, you only got to five. Each day, you wake up, apply makeup as if it is warpaint, and set out to brave the trenches. Each day, you step on a landmine and watch helplessly as your limbs fly off your body, and each night, you watch as they grow back, each wound in agonizing pain as the tendons realign themselves and the veins weave together. Every morning, you do it again.

Tomorrow will be no different.

———

“You’re moving again,” Yuu sighs in mock exasperation, your eyelids are closed, but you can hear the playful smile in their voice. This smile, at least, you understood, even if you did not quite like it. “Alright, I’m all done.”

“You’re very good at this.”

Yuu grimaces. “I learned it from Vil—he was always nagging me about skincare. I got a pimple once, and he nearly chopped my head off.”

“I see…”

“So listen, I had an idea earlier. How about instead of going to them, they come to us?” You mull over the idea in your head. It’s true that you have… difficulty leaving Ramshackle, but the idea of having them invade the only place you feel safe in is…uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to invite them here.” You settle on.

“How about meeting them in the Wraith, then?” It’s not a bad idea. The Wraith is familiar enough to not immediately panic you but alien enough to not ruin your only haven. Even so, you’re hesitant to actually go there again. Its unfamiliarity, though bearable, makes it uncomfortable. You do not understand how it works. You were not even sure that it really existed.

“Can you…tell me about the Wraith? How does it work? I know you were lying earlier.” Yuu smiles and kisses your cheek, you try not to grimace.

“You don’t need to know.”

———

Today, you are doing your own makeup. You have kicked Yuu out after you caught them leering over you while you slept. They would be back, of course, but at least they are playing along with your wish for privacy.

For now, at least.

Your makeup skills are far more shoddy than Yuu’s, hence why you are sticking to covering the bags under your eyes and making them look more presentable. You do not bother with liner, but you add a touch of mascara, even if only to wipe away the concealer that covers your lashes. The end result is acceptable, you suppose. The makeup hardly makes a difference in your appearance, but at the very least, you do not look quite so unrested.

That is good enough.

Your minimalist routine has given you enough time to enact the second phase of your plan. A persona. Obviously, you cannot just waltz around campus as you are—no, that would be ridiculous. You remember what happened last time, after all. This is why you must create a new you, one that is better. One that will not get you killed or beaten, nor stalked or harassed.

You will become the ideal version of yourself.

You have thought it over plenty these past few days and arrived at the perfect character to suit your needs. It is hard to manufacture a convincing smile, especially when you feel more like crying, but faking neutrality is just as difficult. With a smile, you must constantly be monitoring it, but with a neutral expression, you are far more likely to slip up, to forget that you are playing a role. Hence, you will be a smiler. Your smile will be cheerful but mysterious. Cunning yet serene. It will be the kind of smile that betrays nothing of the smiler’s intentions. You will not just be beautiful—you will be beauty itself.

You gaze into the mirror, donning your smile as if it is a shield and your makeup as if it is amor. You hardly recognize yourself. You don’t look like you.

You look like them.

Instantly, you tear your face away from the mirror and viciously begin wiping away at your makeup. It comes off with some difficulty, and tentatively, you peer up at the mirror—your eyes are red from irritation, and mascara runs down your cheeks like waterfall. Your eyebags are on full display. You look horrible, and so very human.

You smile. It is a small, crooked smile of relief. Finally, you look like yourself again. You breathe out a sigh and lower yourself to the floor. You are not quite sure what came over you—but the incident has left you shaking. You cross out another day of the calendar.

You will try again tomorrow.

———

The pen drops to the floor with a loud thud as it rolls into a pile of its kind. You stare at it for a while, then back at the piece of parchment on the desk. You have not even written a single sentence. Every time you try, your hands become clammy, shakey, and sweaty. You can only manage to cobble together a few letters before the pen falls from your hand and drops to the floor.

You are on your fourteenth pen. You cannot bring yourself to pick them back up, so you grab a new one each time, and now you have finally run out. Sighing, you decide to put the letter-making to rest. You cannot possibly expect to write a reply in such a condition. In fact, you cannot bring yourself to do much of anything at all.

Yuu steps in, casually asking how your attempts are going—all while ignoring the obvious pile of pens and discarded paper. You think they simply like hearing the sound of your voice.

You grumble out a response, and even though your words are more gibberish than anything resembling human language, Yuu nods along as if they understand and even begins to offer their advice. You tune them out, for you are far too drained to listen.

You cut them off, suddenly struck with an idea.

“Actually, I have a favor to ask of you…” Yuu nods along vigorously, seemingly forgetting what they had been saying earlier. Or perhaps they have merely deemed it less important. It is, after all, a request from you. “I want you to go to school tomorrow the same way you usually would.” Yuu stills, and for a moment, they frown.

“Go to school…? Without you?” They look so dejected that you almost consider apologizing or laughing it away as if it were some kind of ill-thought jest. But no. You can’t. You must press on.

“I think that would be best, yes,” you say, trying to avoid their eyes. “It’s just…you’ve seen how things have been going. I’m not ready yet. I can’t face them, but I know I have to.” Briefly, you recall the nightmares you have been having as of late. They are horrible things, these nightmares. They wake you from your slumber and douse you in sweat. In your nightmares, you see the students. They say nothing but ever so slowly walk towards you. They get closer each night. You cannot let them go any further. “That’s why I want you to go for me. Buy me some time, relay a message, just something. Anything.”

“What would you like me to say?”

“That’s…” Oh, dear, you hadn’t thought of that yet. “Just…just say whatever you think is best.” Truthfully, you’d rather not have someone else put words into your mouth and assign them meaning (You do, of course, remember how well that went last time), but there is no other choice. You have nothing to say. And besides, the message is not the important part.

What’s important is Yuu leaving.

Because you will be going to the Wraith.

“As you wish.” Yuu bows their head and leaves the room, something about the way they switched gears leaves you feeling uneasy. The fact that they are behaving as if they are a servant only adds to that unease. Regardless, you cannot ask them about it now, for they have already left—leaving you alone with your thoughts…and a comically large assortment of pens on the floor. You do not bother to pick them up. Lazy as it sounds, you know someone will do it for you later. You would only end up dropping them again, anyway.

You have been doing better on your lonesome. You used to spiral into a panic attack any time you were left by yourself, but now, you find a sort of comfort in it. You believe that this is largely due to Yuu.

They make you feel…uncomfortable. Not unsafe, not like them, but certainly ill at ease. Being away from them is to take a breather, to recoup yourself. In a way, it is similar to how you felt during the hunt. You were not thinking about the danger that could hurt you, you were thinking of the danger that had just passed you by.

In a way, you ought to be grateful. They kept you on your toes. The low-level anxiety they caused was oddly helpful.

It reminds you to never get too comfortable.

———

“Alright, we’re off!” Yuu seems to have lost the odd cadence they took on earlier and is now back to their usual cheerful self.

“Have fun,” you say, waving off Yuu and Grim as they exit Ramshackle Dorm. You don’t know why Grim suddenly asked you to go with Yuu, but you had no reason to refuse. The fewer eyes you have on you, the better.

You don’t need Grim’s protection. You cannot rely on him forever.

And so, with confident vigor, you march down the halls, looking for the door that shouldn’t exist. You find it easily, you knew you would, and swing it open. The Wraith is the same as you remember it. Books are stacked high on floor-to-ceiling shelves, organized by date chronologically (Chronologically of what? Are they not just storybooks?). Most of them are blank. You do not understand. Regardless, you do not stop your pursuit. You do not know what you are looking for, only that you must find it—and quickly.

A navy blue cover catches your eye, and you pull it out from its place. “Lonesome Ghosts” reads the title. The words are embroidered with gold thread; there is an illustration of four ghosts, three embroidered in gold, and one washed out and faded. A Mickey Mouse logo sits in the corner. If you recall correctly, there is a story titled Lonesome Ghosts which Ramshackle is based off of. Perhaps you’ll learn something by reading it.

You flip to page one and begin reading.

There is a house on the hill, where time seems to still. It's a house home to four, but one of them is bored.

They are so very lonely, these ghosts, you see. They’d be willing to die just for some company.

They call up a group—of exterminators, to boot! "It will surely be fun just to watch them all run."

But the fourth has another idea, you see. “It’ll be so fun, I guarantee!”

The strangers arrive, expecting a fight. But knowing what’s in store will not stop the gore.

The strangers are dead, they have all met their end.

They are so very lonely, these ghosts, you see. Especially when four turns to three.

The last one is lost for a very long time. They have been kicked, banished for their crime.

They wander the world from place to place, when they find a human with a lovely face.

The human will be theirs, the ghost decides. They steal the face, cut with a knife.

Wearing the skin of the human they killed, the ghost returns to the house on the hill.

You close the book so harshly that dust flies across the room. You pick up another book at random, hoping to rid your mind of the eerie story.

101 Fantastic Phantasms.” You wonder idly if the title is a reference to 101 Dalmations, but upon closer inspection, the book really does seem to be a list of one hundred and one categories of phantoms. You quickly skim through the pages, pausing to read the more interesting ones.

Face-stealer:

The face-stealer is one of the more terrifying additions I have written about in this book. Technically speaking, it is not a unique species of ghost, like the others mentioned throughout these pages, but it is, nonetheless, fascinating enough to warrant its own passage. You could compare it to an archetype, perhaps, but not to a species. This is a digression, however, so we shall move on.

The face-stealer, as the name implies, is a type of ghost that steals faces.‘Faces’ is used a bit broadly here, really, a face-stealer steals much more than just the head of its victim. It will take the victim's entire body, sucking their soul out and replacing it with its own, leaving the original host to wander the underworld, aimlessly and without identity, for the rest of time. Because the face-stealer takes the victim’s body with it, there can be neither burial nor proper funeral unless the face-stealer is caught and expelled from the body. Such instances are rare. With no way for the soul to rest in peace, the victim remains in purgatory, endlessly tormented.

Unfortunately, we do not know the exact reason for why a face-stealer does what it does, as all of our interviewers have only wound up getting their faces stolen by the subjects (Editor’s note: this statement has been falsified for dramatic effect); however, our expert scholars do have their own guesses about this subject, which I will share with you here:

One common belief as to why a face-stealer does what it does is that it simply wishes to experience being alive again. Of course, there is likely much more to it than just this, as our scholars will tell you, and it likely differs from stealer to stealer, but this argument is so commonplace that I would be remiss to not mention it.

Some argue for a more romantic approach to this idea, claiming that face-stealers who fall in love with a human will steal the face of their lover, friend, or even just someone who lives nearby, if only to be closer to the object of its affection.

Others still will present new ideas, such as the one that states face-stealers are those who have committed unforgivable crimes, but try to weasel their way out of punishment by taking on a new identity. This argument is far more sensible than the one mentioned previously, but, similarly to all the others, lacks enough evidence to be anything more than mere speculation, as encounters with these monsters are extraordinarily rare.

The next few pages are filled with old folk tales about the beast, including a transcription of Lonesome Ghosts. You shiver, about to move on, when another section catches your attention.

Wraith:

The Wraith is another interesting legend, one that I’ve actually experienced myself. Traditionally, there are two kinds. The first is simply a ghostly image of someone, showcasing the moments just before their death, it is also the kind that I meant, but I will share that story later. Wraiths are usually nothing more than flickering whisps, making them seem harmless, especially in comparison to some of the other, more malevolent spirits I have listed in this book. Make no mistake, however, for the Wraith, while not deadly in its own right, is almost always an omen of death and misfortune.

The second is far more fascinating. It is a place born from death. Described as a sub-dimension by some, the place can take on any form but is often one that is tied to the person it is born from. If someone were to drown in a lake, for example, the Wraith might take on the form of a lake. The same thing might happen if the person’s favorite spot was a lake, even if they had not died there. The second species of Wraith (and yes, I do say species; it is of my firm belief that these kinds of Wraiths are just as ‘alive’ as the others) is much harder to come across, as you often must know exactly what you’re looking for and where to find it. People who are close to death may wander inside of one, though such instances are somewhat rare.

There have been reports of supernatural fanatics trying to create the second Wraith, either by murder or suicide, but no such attempts have ever borne fruit. As such, I do not recommend attempting to do so yourself. Instead, please satisfy yourself with merely reading about them as I have.

With that out of the way, my dear reader, I’m sure you’re now wondering about my encounter with the first Wraith? Very well, then. It is not the most interesting of stories, but I hope you will listen to it nonetheless.

The night in which I met a Wraith was far from pleasant. I was ten years old and playing out in the woods with my bicycle when I saw it, the spirit was so frightening that I swerved harshly to the right, hurtling me down a steep cliffside. I don’t recall what happened next, but when I came to, my bike was totally wrecked, my legs and arms were full of open-wound fractures, twisting in ways I didn’t know possible. A piece of bone from my ribs punctured a lung, and I had a severe concussion. I wasn’t found until morning.

Somehow, however, I survived to tell the tale. Now, I dedicate this book to you, my dear readers, and hope that by sharing information on these monsters, you will come to familiarize yourself with them, so that you do not make the same mistakes that I did.

You only have enough time to read through one more book, luckily, however, you already know which one to pick. One that will (hopefully) piece all of tese stories together. That might be a bit too convenient though. This isnt’ a storybook, you know?

You find it easily. Yuu’s diary—still addressed to you. Wasting no time, you flip through the pages, only to fnd them all blank.

“Boo.”

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