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soaps-mohawk · 3 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Summary: You have a long weekend that ends rather unexpectedly. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, some brief violence at the end.

A/N: I'm in a bit of a crisis so you're getting a bonus chapter this week. It's a beefy one and I wrote like 90% of it yesterday, just had the brain sludge by the time I was close to finishing and decided to rest before I finished and edited. Things are starting to get a big suggestive here, so as a reminder, this fic will have NSFW content in later chapters so please do not interact with it if you are under 18. I'd hate to have to block you.

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“How are you settling in?”

“Fine.” You shrug.

“Any instinct to nest at all?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“That’s fine.” Dr. Keller says, writing something down. “It’s only been just over a week. Have you started kneeling for Captain Price yet?”

You shake your head again. “No.”

Dr. Keller tilts her head. “Why not?”

You shrug again. “He hasn’t brought it up.”

“Is that something you’d like to start doing?”

Her question catches you off guard again. You’re not used to being asked what you want, afterall you’re an omega. That’s not important. You’re here to serve. To do as you’re told. You remember watching your mother kneel for your father while he watched TV, her dazed, glazed over eyes staring at nothing as he almost seemed to hypnotize her into the shell of a perfect omega. It was your first taste of truly how much power alphas could hold over omegas. One hand on the back of your neck and it’s over.

“I...I don’t know.” You say, picking at your sleeve.

“You’re allowed to want things too.” Dr. Keller leans forward just slightly, giving you a smile. “I highly doubt Captain Price will make much of a fuss if you ask for something you need. He cares about you. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here alone.” She tilts her head at you, watching you pick at your sleeve. “Is there anything you want or maybe need that you haven’t asked for?”

Softer blankets. A fluffier pillow. Different body wash and shampoo. New clothes. A picture or a poster or something to make your room seem less clinical. Your instincts to finally start kicking in. Price to want you as much as he’s supposed to. Ghost to like you. To go back in time and let Soap kiss you.

To go back in time and never present as an omega.

“No.” You finally answer, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

Dr. Keller stares at you for a long moment. You avoid her gaze, picking at the seam of your sleeve. “I know you’re going to get tired of me saying this, but it’s important that you understand that this is a safe space for you. Everything that we discuss, everything that you say in here stays between you and me. Doctor-patient confidentiality is something I firmly believe in, even when it comes to alpha/omega relationships. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You say quietly, still avoiding her gaze.

She continues to stare at you for a moment before she leans back on the couch again, shuffling some papers around. “The two betas, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish. How are you getting along with them?” She continues with her questions.

“Fine.” You lean back in your chair, hoping it might swallow you whole. “They’re easiest to get along with.”

Dr. Keller nods. “Good. I’m a strong advocate for organic pack bonding. Helps avoid any dynamic struggles or false instincts down the line. How are you sleeping?”

“Fine I guess.” You shrug. “I nap a lot.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Omegas need a lot of sleep and I can imagine adjusting to a new schedule has been rough.” Dr. Keller moves the papers to the couch next to her, looking up at you. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

You hesitate, pulling at the seam of your sleeve. It’s beginning to unravel a bit from your nervous picking. You’ll have to fix it. Dr. Keller is right, though. You could just ask for a new one. Price had told you they had a budget for your needs, plus they do get paid well. Anything you needed, they would gladly get for you.

You just have to ask.

It’s the asking that you’re not sure you can do. It feels strange to ask anything of your new pack. They’re supposed to be the ones needing things from you. If Soap had wanted to kiss you, he could have. Instead he left it up to you. He let you decide. You wonder if Price’s hesitation to move forward has been because he’s waiting on you.

They’re all waiting on you, except maybe Ghost. They’re waiting on you to make the first moves, on you to set the pieces on the board. What is the first move? How do you set the pieces? Did you even need to? Would they fall into place organically if you just left them alone? Or would the tension continue to build up, would you continue to affect them until it became too much and the pressure causes everything to blow?

“I’m affecting them.” You say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Dr. Keller tilts her head as she stares at you. “What do you mean?”

“They’re soldiers. They’re good soldiers with years and years of training, that’s why they're here. But...but I’m changing that. I asked Price if I could go with them and watch them run a training course cause I read in a book that I should get to know them and the things they like and so I was just curious what they do during the day when I’m not with them. He let me watch and he told me their top speeds running the training course but...none of them met those times with me there.”

You take a deep breath, the words pouring out of you easily now. You feel as if you’re not even thinking of them, not even measuring them or using caution as you normally would in any conversation. They’re slipping out from somewhere deep inside and now that you’ve opened that dam, you can’t stop it.

“Price made them run through it five times and they still couldn’t match their top speeds. He said it was a good thing that they figured that out, that they need to know how I’m affecting them and how to adjust to me. And every time they ran through it, I couldn’t stop thinking about...”

You take another breath, the air catching in your lungs. Your fingers are shaking, your body sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, almost as if you’re trying to get it to swallow you whole. As if the chair might wrap its arms around you and pull you into its softness and keep you there until you can’t breathe and it suffocates you.

“What if it was me? What if they were having to rescue me? I know that’s a risk, a low one, but it’s still a risk. The CIA and Kate warned me that I could become a target if the wrong person found out about me. That’s why I can’t know anything about what they do because that puts me at more of a risk, and I could be a threat to them and the entire world if something got out that wasn’t supposed to.”

You’re breathing heavily as the words finally come to a stop. Dr. Keller’s eyes are shining with sympathy as she stares at you. This is the most you’ve ever opened up to her, the most words you feel you’ve ever spoken to her in the two times now that you’ve met.

It feels good. It feels really good to voice your thoughts and your fears to someone on the outside, someone you can trust won’t tell anyone. You couldn’t voice these fears to your pack. They’re used to this kind of thing. They live with the knowledge they could die at any point, that any mission might be their last. How many lives have they seen lost, how many close calls have they had? You’ve seen scars already on arms, hands, faces. How many others are hidden where you can’t see?

How many scars do they have inside, too?

“I want you to know that your fears are very valid.” Dr. Keller says, her voice soft. “Being involved in the military comes with a lot of risks, and then you get to places like this and those risks only get greater and greater. I can’t promise you that something like that won’t ever happen, because we have no way of knowing. The risk is not zero for a reason.”

Dr. Keller stands from the couch, moving to the chair next to you. The calming beta scent washes over you, and you know you have to be stinking up the room. She turns the chair slightly to face you, leaning forward onto her knees. You can see the imprints on the sides of her nose from where she’d been wearing glasses earlier.

“That risk is also only low for a reason. Your identity has been well hidden, just like those of your pack’s. You’re on a well protected and secure military base. This place is a black square on Google Maps. I know, I tried looking it up when I found out where I was being assigned.” She reaches out, squeezing your arm gently. “And I highly doubt your pack would ever let anything happen to you. Packs are highly protective over their omegas. Even bad alphas can’t fight that instinct when their pack is threatened. Your pack would quite literally go to war for you.”

She is right, you know she is. Yet that fear continues to wiggle at the back of your mind. You know they’d never let anything happen to you, but they’re going to start leaving soon. What if something happens while they’re not here? Who will help you then? The other soldiers? The betas that stare and the alphas that catcall you?

“I guess you’re right.” You say, continuing to pick at your sleeve. At this rate, by the time your heat starts, you’ll have unraveled the whole sweatshirt.

The buzz of your phone on your nightstand pulls you from your half asleep state. Your book is on the floor, having dropped from your hands and slid off your bed as you drifted off. Your lamp is still on, casting a warm glow around your room. You prefer the softer light compared to the fluorescent overhead, as most omegas do. There’s something too clinical and sterile about fluorescents.

You grab your phone, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as you try to blink the sleepiness away. It’s not terribly late, but you’ve been feeling the exhaustion all day since your conversation with Dr. Keller.

“Be ready by 0500 tomorrow. Wear something meant for the outdoors.”

It’s a text from Price, your brow furrowing as you read it over. Five in the morning on a Saturday? That’s the earliest you’ve had to get up since your arrival on base. And wear something meant for the outdoors? You can only imagine what he has planned for the day you had been planning on spending sleeping.

You make a quiet noise of indignation as you text back in confirmation, setting an alarm so you can be ready by 5 am. Not up by 5 am, ready by 5 am. You have half a mind to call him, or to text back asking why he feels you need to be up before the sun. You know that’s the normal time they begin their mornings during the week, usually when you hear them up and moving around, getting ready to go work out. That’s usually when you roll over and go back to sleep for another hour and a half before your own alarm gets you up for breakfast.

You pout a little as you set your phone back on your nightstand, reaching down to grab your book and set it next to your phone. You lay back down on your bed, turning off your lamp and bathing the room in darkness. Well, it’s not totally dark. The light from the lamp outside shines in your window, casting cold shadows across the walls and floor. You’ve never been a fan of total darkness. You’d grown used to having some light in the room at The Institute. One of your roommates had insisted on having a nightlight, and there were many nights you were grateful for it as you laid awake at the mercy of your racing mind.

A nightlight.

You add it to the mental list of things you want, but you’ll never feel brave enough to ask for.

Your alarm rings too early in the morning, your hand lifting to silence it quickly. 4:30 am doesn’t feel like a real time as you rise in darkness, hand fumbling for the switch to your lamp. You glare into the dimly lit room, trying to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. How desperately you want to curl back up under the blankets and sleep until someone knocks on the door to check on you because you’ve slept so long into the day.

You don’t doubt Price will knock in about 30 minutes to get you up. He’ll be disappointed if you ignore him, you think. He wouldn’t punish you if you went against his wishes, would he?

You don’t know that.

You haven’t even thought to push that boundary, nor have you discussed it. You don’t want to. You’re a good omega.

You’re a good omega.

You repeat it over and over as you get yourself ready, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. You silently thank Kate as you pull on a pair of cargo pants and hiking boots, assuming that’s what Price means by “something meant for the outdoors.” Had she bought the items in anticipation of something like this happening? You are on a military base. You should have expected you’d be pulled into something like this eventually.

You’re debating on a jacket by the time the knock comes, right at 5 am. You wonder how long Price has been standing in the hallway, or if he’s perfected arriving right on the dot after years of expected punctuality. You decide on the jacket after checking the weather, slipping it on as you open the door. He hadn’t mentioned needing anything, not that you own any sort of supplies for the outdoors anyway.

He doesn’t say anything as you open the door, instead motioning with his head to follow. You quietly close your door, expecting the others to be waiting for you, but their doors are all closed and they’re nowhere to be seen. You feel slightly nervous as you follow Price out into the cold morning air, glad you decided on the jacket as your breath steams from your lips.

Price is dressed in his usual boots and cargo pants with a cargo jacket and a beanie instead of a bucket hat. There’s two packs leaning against the side of the building, Price grabbing one and approaching you.

“What are we doing?” You ask quietly as he helps you put on the backpack, buckling it across your chest.

“Going for a hike.” He says, putting on the other backpack.

“Why?” You ask as he turns on a flashlight, handing it to you before turning on another one for himself.

“I’ll explain when we get there.” He says simply, motioning for you to follow him.

You hesitate for half a moment. A hike in the dark? The base is surrounded by forest, but you sometimes forget due to the sprawling nature of the buildings, and your usual ventures outside the barracks being to either the mess or the medical center, all of which were central on the base.

Why does he feel the need to hike in the dark? Surely it’s more dangerous, especially for someone not quite so physically inclined like you. If he wanted to go on a hike, why hadn’t he just said that to begin with? Maybe he would have, had you asked why last night instead of just immediately agreeing.

Going into the woods alone in the dark with an alpha you barely know.

Anxiety twists in your stomach for a moment before you force your feet forward, walking fast to catch up to him. He leads you down one of the roads on base, your boots crunching as the ground changes from asphalt to gravel. Your anxiety doesn’t lessen any as the trees loom high above you in the darkness, the forest like a black void before you.

Your brain thinks up all the land predators that might exist in England. Do they have bears? You’ve seen Brave, but that’s in Scotland. What about big cats like cougars or mountain lions? Are there racoons in England?

You’re on a military base, you think. Surely they have means to keep out large predators that might be dangerous.

Your pack won’t let anything happen to you.

Dr. Keller’s words float through your mind as you follow Price through the underbrush and into the trees. You’re not following any path, at least that you can see, though your experiences in the outdoors have been very limited since you left home. Your dad liked to camp and hike, and often you and your siblings were subjected to his weekend and holiday trips into the wilderness.

You missed them in the early days at the Institute. You missed a lot of things back then.

“What’s eating you back there?” Price asks as you weave through trees and underbrush.

“There’s nothing...dangerous out here...is there, sir?” You ask, narrowly avoiding taking a branch to the face. “Bears or mountain lions?”

Price chuckles. “The worst thing you might find is a stray badger or a snake that got through the fence somehow.”

“Oh.” You say, shining the flashlight around you. “That’s good.”

Price stops, turning to face you. “You’re fretting.”

“Well, we’re in the woods in the dark at an ungodly hour and you won’t tell me why, sir.” You pout.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, staring down at you with a hard look in his eyes.

You stare up at him, your grip tightening on the flashlight in your hand. “Should I trust you?”

He straightens up a bit, the corner of his lips twitching. “That’s something you have to decide.” He turns back around, starting to walk again. “All I can do is my best to try and prove myself to you. In the end, you’re the one that decides if I’m trustworthy or not.”

You’ve never thought of it that way. He could do everything in his power to get you to trust him, but in the end it is your decision. He hasn’t proven you wrong yet, but then again...it’s only been a week. You’ve known him for a week and you’re following him through the woods alone in the dark.

Your brothers would have a fit if they saw you right now.

“Do you trust me?” You find yourself asking as you continue to trek through the woods, narrowly avoiding hurting yourself on various occasions.

“You haven’t given me reason not to.” He answers, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder. “I’d prefer it stayed that way.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, sir. I hardly think I’m much of a threat on any term. Well, at least I don’t think I am. Ghost seems to disagree.”

Price lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Simon...Simon is a unique case. He’s good at his job, but that makes it hard for him to succeed in other areas. I’m sure Johnny has told you how much Simon couldn’t stand him at first. Now look at them.” He chuckles warmly, almost fondly. “He only sees you as a threat in your nature.”

You frown, glancing up at the sky. It’s beginning to turn grey with dusk, the trees seeming to come alive around you in the dim light. “What do you mean by that, sir?”

“You’re an omega. To bond with an omega, there is a degree of vulnerability required by the alpha. Being around omegas requires an openness that can be frightening if you’re not used to it.” He explains. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Simon isn’t the most open man.”

You snort quietly. “Hadn’t noticed, sir.”

Price chuckles at your answer. “You’re threatening to him, because you’re a challenge. Give him time. This entire situation is an adjustment for all of us, just as I’m sure it is for you too.”

You don’t know how to respond to that statement. It is an adjustment. Joining any pack was, but a pack like this...a pack that has you tramping through the woods at 6 am for a reason you don’t even know yet is a major adjustment.

Price stops after the sun has come up, taking a moment next to an outcropping of rocks. He clips your flashlight to your bag before unzipping it, passing you a bottle of water. You take it gladly, your mouth feeling dry after walking for so long.

“How much further?” You ask as he drinks his own water.

“Quite a ways.” He answers.

“Can I know why we’re doing this yet?” You ask as he zips your water back into your backpack.

“Not yet.” He says, continuing onward.

You let out an exasperated sigh, but follow him anyway. You don’t have much of a choice.

Your legs are beginning to get tired, and you’re starting to feel a bit hungry. You’re not sure if you should say anything, or if he’d even stop. You assume he’s packed food, or at least you hope so. You’re going to get grumpy if you’re traversing all over the forest for hours with nothing to eat.

Price slows his pace a bit as you approach what you think is a clearing. You can see a break in the trees ahead, the sun coming through brighter here. You’re sore and tired, your phone telling you you’ve been walking for just over two hours.

How big is this base?

You break through the treeline, finding a small clearing with what looks like a fire watch tower in the middle of it. It’s not what you were expecting, the many scenarios of why you had been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour and forced to hike through the woods you’ve been thinking up the last two hours, did not end quite like this. You stare up at the tower, your head tilting back to take it in.

“Not scared of heights, are you?” Price asks, standing beside you.

“Maybe.” You answer, eyeing the staircase winding around it to get to the top.

“Come on.” He says, nudging you forward gently. “Up the stairs.”

The last thing you want to do after walking for two hours is climb a never ending staircase, but you don’t think you have much of a choice. Perhaps you can finally sit once you get to the top, and maybe you’ll even get to eat.

Price follows behind you as you take the steps, climbing slowly. Your legs are screaming, your feet aching in your boots. You wouldn’t be surprised if they’re bleeding a little, or if you wind up with blisters. You’re breathing heavily by the time you get to the top, sweat beading on your brow. Price doesn’t even seem winded behind you, and you’re sure he could have jogged up the steps if he wanted to.

The top of the tower is mostly empty except for a small table and two chairs. There’s no windows, the tower open between the railing and the roof. Price sets his bag on the table, unzipping it. You sink into one of the chairs, letting your bag drop to the floor.

“Can I know why we’re here now?” You ask him.

“Drink some water and take a breath first.” He says, pulling a couple packets out of his bag. MRE’s.

You dig your bottle out of your bag, taking note of the other contents inside. A few snack bars, a couple MRE’s of your own, another unopened bottle of water, and a book. There’s things in the other pockets but you don’t bother looking, guzzling down more water.

You stand from your chair, your legs almost buckling in protest as Price gets the MRE’s cooking. You lean against the railing, looking down over the forest that stretches out as far as you can see below.

“Can I know now?” You ask, knowing there has to be a good reason for him to bring you out here.

“A training exercise.” He says finally.

“A training exercise?” You frown, turning to look at him over your shoulder. It wasn’t a training exercise for you, was it?

“Sometimes when we get a specific target on a mission, the only thing we have to go off of is a general location and a scent.” He explains. “We have to be able to track that scent effectively, sometimes for miles. We run training exercises out here to test their ability to track scents to hunt down a target.”

You stare at the sprawling woods, beginning to understand. “So, they’re hunting a scent that will lead them here?”

Price chuckles lowly, his hands coming to rest on the railing on either side of you. Your stomach flutters as he leans in close, his scent strong in your nose as his breath fans your ear. “Technically, they’re hunting you.”

Your knuckles go white as they grip the railing, your blood pulsing in your veins. You’re well aware that some alphas like to hunt their omegas. There’s some primal urge deep within your brains to chase and be chased. You’re well aware of how it usually ends, the thought making your stomach clench.

“You gave me the idea.” Price says, the warmth of his body radiating through your jacket. “When you asked to watch them train, I saw how you affected them, I thought...maybe you can be useful for their training afterall.”

“Do they...do they know it’s me?” You ask as he steps back from you. You fight the urge to whine at the loss of proximity.

“They do now.” He says with a smirk. “They’ve already started, so if they can follow your scent successfully, then they’ll be here in about an hour.” He says, looking at his watch.

You frown a little. “But...we walked for two hours.”

He smiles a little, pointing to a break in the trees below you hadn’t noticed until now. “That trailhead is a 20 minute hike back to base.”

Your frown deepens. “But-”

“We weren’t walking in a straight line.” He explains. “We doubled back and recrossed the trail several times to try and confuse them, just as someone running from them would do.” He passes you one of the MRE’s. “That’s what I want you to do, if it ever comes to it. You don’t fight unless you have no other choice. You always try to run first.”

“Yes, sir.” You say, sitting down again. You don’t think you’d do much damage fighting anyway, but you don’t tell him that.

You open the package, peeking at the contents. Some sort of potato hash, you think, but you don’t really care. You’re so hungry you’ll gladly eat the mystery re-hydrated food. Price sinks into the other chair with a quiet sigh, digging into the food. It’s quiet out in the woods, the only other sound besides the two of you the sounds of birds.

You’ve always loved the woods, the quiet serenity of such isolation. You could imagine Price living in a log cabin miles from civilization, with animals and his own garden, happily living in quiet peace away from the stresses of life and war. You blame the fluttering in your stomach on the lingering thoughts of a chase, of a hunt. The thought of running, trying to evade soldiers who train to hunt others by their scents has goosebumps forming on your skin.

They’re not from the cold either.

The sun has disappeared behind clouds, the grey weather of England quickly becoming normal to you. You haven’t seen the sun much since you landed in London two weeks ago, and you’re sure you’re not going to see much of it for quite a long while.

“What’s got you all twitchy over there?” Price asks, breaking the silence.

You turn to look at him, your mouth open a bit in surprise. “How can you tell?”

“I’ve been trained to notice small details, sweetheart.” He says, grinning at you. “Your fingers always get fidgety first. Like you’re looking for something to do with them. Usually they disappear beneath your sleeves, or you start picking at your clothes. Your scent changes too. Subtly, but still noticeable.”

Oh god. You wince a little bit. He can still smell you, even outdoors in an open area.

“Your eyes start to move, looking all over the place, like you’re searching for something, or trying not to stare at one place too long.” He continues, making you want to sink deeper and deeper into the chair until you disappear. Of course he can read you like a book. They all probably can. “Your breathing always picks up, fast enough it’s noticeable if you’re paying attention. It’s easy to set you off too, sweet little thing.”

Warmth floods your face at his words and his stare, the back of your neck prickling. You meet his gaze across the table, the look in his eyes making you feel like you want to crawl under the table and hide. You hate that he can read you so easily. You won’t be able to hide anything from him.

He probably knows you already have.

You continue to hold his gaze, not backing down despite the intense tickling at the back of your neck. Touch alphas like a challenge, you repeat it over and over in your head.

Don’t back down.

A quiet growl rumbles through his chest, a shiver shooting down your spine so violently it nearly steals your breath. You fight the urge to bear your throat to him in submission, your head tilting back just slightly as your eyes squeeze closed. You’re panting, warmth pooling in your stomach as he chuckles lowly. He’s won, he knows it. You were never going to win. Nature was set against you. Your nature is to submit to him.

“Innocent little thing, aren’t ya?” He says, pulling a cigar from one of his pockets.

You know he smokes, you know they all do. You’ve smelled it on them many times, and it was to be expected. Your father hadn’t started until after he joined the Marines. Your mother hated it. “Dirty habit.” She always whispered as she smelled his uniform and the laundry he brought home from deployment.

He could have had worse ones, you always thought.

You can’t help but watch his lips curl around the cigar, the scent of tobacco permeating the air. His eyes are still on you, your own lips tingling a bit. You think back to how close you had been with Soap, inches from having your first real kiss. You regret it a bit now, not letting him kiss you. He wouldn’t have known he was your first, except perhaps by your awkwardness.

You wonder how many times they’ve all been kissed. You wonder how many times they've kissed each other. You wonder how many barrack bunnies Price has been with, how many other omegas he’s been with. You can’t imagine Ghost being one for barrack bunnies, but then your mind sinks somewhere deeper. Ghost in his mask with an omega bent over the side of his bed, his hand wrapped around the back of their neck...

Another shiver runs down your spine, your lower body beginning to pulse in time with your heart.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Price asks, still staring at you.

“Soap almost kissed me a couple days ago.” You admit, not trusting yourself not to admit to the other things you’re thinking about.

Price’s brows lift in surprise. “Did you not want him to?”

Want. There’s that word again. You keep hearing it, but you’re not entirely sure what it means anymore. He’s asking to be sure that Soap didn’t force you into anything, even though you can’t imagine the beta doing such a thing. Betas usually weren’t aggressive without good reason, not like alphas.

“Well...no, that’s not it...” You say, your face burning as you begin to regret your choice of topic. “I...I haven’t kissed anyone before...well, not like a real kiss. At The Institute, there was this omega, she was...progressive. Nothing they tried could break her of that and she got into the heads of a few other omegas. One of my bunkmates decided she didn’t want an alpha to be her first kiss, so...I volunteered.”

Price continues to stare at you, a dark look in his eyes. You know some alphas like to watch omegas together. You’ve seen it in movies, things your brothers would put on when they were babysitting, things that would have gotten them hit over the head if your father found out.

“Is that so?” He finally says, flicking some of the ash from the end of his cigar. “Not even a real kiss before you presented?”

You shake your head. “No. I was...the weird kid in school. Most people considered it social suicide to be around me.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I bet quite a few of them are kicking themselves now.”

“Why didn’t you want Soap to kiss you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. He’s still wondering if he needs to have a long chat with the young Sergeant, or perhaps take other action.

“Well...it wasn’t so much that I didn’t want it.” You say. “I just...thought you might be upset...if you weren’t my first...” You swallow nervously at his stare. “Since you’re pack alpha...you have the right to claim-”

“I wouldn’t care.” He cuts you off, almost as if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of him having all the rights to claim you. As if he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a claim over someone else. “If you want your first kiss to be with one of the others, then you shouldn’t keep yourself from what you want.”

His words echo Dr. Keller’s. It confuses you, their willingness to allow you to want. You’re an omega, you don’t get to want. You get told what to do, what to wear. You get told what to want. You don’t make decisions, you sit and be a good omega for your alpha.

“I don’t know what I want.” You say quietly.

“Think about it.” He says, stubbing out his cigar. “I won’t be upset. Makes me feel a little better, in truth. Makes me feel less like an old creep trying to steal your innocence.”

You try not to smile at his words. “I mean...you are, in a way.”

He tsks at you but his eyes are playful as he checks his watch. “You’re trouble. We’ve got a few minutes before the hour is up. Let’s see if they can beat it.”

You stare out at the treeline, taking deep gulps of the cool air to try and calm yourself as you wait for the others to arrive. You’re still tingling a bit from your conversation with Price, that slight tickle still crawling across the back of your neck. You want him to hold you there, feel his calloused skin against yours, feel the strength of his fingers as they press into your skin. You want him to take all the turmoil away, the fear and the insecurity and the confusion.

You want to kneel for him.

You’re saved from your thoughts as a familiar figure breaks through the treeline, big and hulking and wearing a skull on his face. You’ve never seen him in this mask before, only ever seeing him in his balaclava. It’s a haunting image, only his eyes visible as he looks up at the top of the tower. Soap and Gaz appear behind him, the three of them making for the staircase.

Their boots echo on the steps as they race to the top, Soap the first one to appear with a wide grin.

“Aye, we found the target!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you into the air and spinning.

You yelp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life. He smells like musk and sweat, and you can’t help but wonder if they ran here. He sets you back on your feet, your legs aching in protest after sitting for too long. The soreness of your morning hike has caught up to you, and you’ll be feeling it for a few days.

“Not bad.” Price says, looking at his watch. “For the first time with a new scent.” He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get back and you can have the rest of the day off.”

You let out a whine in protest as Price grabs your backpack, gaining the attention of the four men. “You mean we have to walk back too?”

“It’s not even a kilometer.” Gaz says with a grin.

You pout. “I don’t know how far that is! I already had to walk for two hours this morning. My legs hurt.”

“You didn’t stretch before you started?” Soap asks.

“No! I didn’t know we’d be hiking halfway across the country when I was told to get up at 5 am!” You continue to pout.

“Come on, you’ll survive.” Price says, clipping your backpack across your chest again. “You can sleep for the rest of the day.”

You definitely have blisters, the sides of your feet burning as you walk down the stairs. You’re going to take a very long shower when you get back to base, and then crawl into bed and sleep until someone inevitably knocks because they’re worried about you. You’re still pouting, not having even thought about how you were going to get back to base.

Soap stops at the bottom of the steps, turning to glance at you behind him as he bends down slightly. “Hop on, hen.”

It takes you a moment to conceptualize what he’s doing before you break out in a grin, putting your hands on his shoulders to hoist yourself onto his back. His hands grip the backs of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he carries you piggy-back style.

“I’ve lifted weights heavier than you, bonny.” He says, not seeming to struggle at all with carrying you.

“Well, omegas are supposed to be small.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Aye, like a wee bairn.” Soap laughs.

He carries you all the way back to base, barely even breathing heavily by the time you break the treeline. The rocking motion of being carried, along with your exhaustion, has lulled you into a daze, your head leaning against his as you desperately fight sleep.

You’re jostled awake as Soap gently bounces you on his back. “We’re back, hen.”

You grumble sleepily, holding onto him tighter. “Comfy.”

“You’ll be comfier in bed, love.” Gaz says, stroking your hair.

“Carry me.” You murmur, both of them freezing.

“You sure about that, hen?” Soap asks. “You wan’t tae let us in your space?”

“Mmm...yeah.” You murmur, nuzzling Soap’s shoulder.

You miss the silent conversation between them in your half asleep state, the way Gaz’s hand hesitates on the knob, their slow, cautious steps into your space. It was a big deal, infringing upon an omega’s space. It’s sacred. One could only enter with permission, or if it was an emergency. Infringing on that space without permission could be detrimental.

Soap gently lowers you onto your bed, helping you curl up on your side. Gaz unties your boots, setting them on the floor next to the bed before pulling off your socks. He lets out a quiet hiss as he spots your raw and blistered feet.

“That’s going to hurt later.” He whispers. “No wonder she didn’t want to walk back.”

“Didnae say nothing either.” Soap says, his fingers trailing your cheek.

“Stubborn little omega.”

Gaz’s words are the last you hear before you’re lost to sleep, your brain forcing you to give in to your exhaustion finally.

It’s knocking at the door that wakes you. You’re not sure what time it is, or what planet you’re on. Your eyes are crusty with sleep, your pillow damp from drooling. You’re in your bed in the barracks, tucked under a blanket. You vaguely remember giving Gaz and Soap permission to enter before you were out again.

It’s still daylight, judging by the light around the edges of your curtains. Or maybe you had slept through the day and it was morning. You can’t tell, feeling a bit like you were hit by a bus and jumped dimensions.

“C’mon lass, ye got tae eat at least one meal today.” Soap’s voice calls through the door.

You let out a groan, pushing yourself up to sit. You haven’t even changed or showered, but your shoes have been removed. You flex your toes, wincing at the sharp pain from them. You pull the blanket off, staring down at your bandaged feet. They must be as blistered and raw as they had felt in your shoes. You don’t want to get up. You’re going to be sore and probably walking with a limp.

You know what they’re going to think.

The stares you’ll get.

Soon it will be for that reason, though, you think. Why not let them think it now? Then maybe by then they’ll be used to it and it’ll be much less mortifying for you.

You get up, padding barefoot to the door. You open it, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?” Your voice sounds rough with sleep, your tongue feeling heavy.

“Almost 1800 hours.” He answers. “Price let ye sleep. He and Gaz already ate. Had something tae take care of.”

You let out a quiet groan as you rub your eyes. You slept all day, past lunch and nearly past dinner. You likely would have kept sleeping, had they let you, but then you’d be up at an ungodly hour having to scrounge for food in the rec room.

“Get some shoes on.” Soap says. “We’ll get food in ye, then ye can sleep more.”

You let out a quiet grumble but do as he says, grabbing your most comfortable pair of shoes before following him out of the barracks. You let your hand slip into his, the base less populated on the weekend. The mess is still busy, though, most of those that stay keeping their schedules even over the weekend.

Soap helps you make your tray before finding Ghost sitting at a table. You deposit your tray across from them before going to grab something to drink. You look over the options, your sleep-drunk brain trying to decide on what you need.

“I recommend coffee.” A voice says behind you.

You spin around, looking up at a familiar face. Your stomach twists nervously, the back of your neck prickling. It’s the soldier that had been staring at you your second day on base, the one Ghost had scared off with his glare.

“You look like you need it.” He says, giving what you assume is supposed to be a friendly smile, except to you it looks like the grin of a hungry wolf in a storybook, and you’re the injured rabbit about to be devoured. You flinch just slightly as he holds out a hand. “I’m Corporal McKinney.”

You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t want to touch him at all. Catcalling you could handle, the stares and the whistles were nothing. None of them have been so brave as to approach you before now, and you’re starting to realize you prefer it that way.

An overwhelming scent suddenly washes over you, the prickling at the back of your neck intensifying. It’s rich and deep, the scent of leather and gunpowder lacing the ozone-like tang of anger, of danger.

“Can I help you, Corporal?” The deep voice rumbles behind you, the warmth close enough all you’d have to do was lean back slightly and you’d be touching him.

The soldier’s eyes lift from you to Ghost behind you, the wicked gleam to them fading as he stares down the giant alpha. “No, sir.” The soldier swallows thickly. “Just thought I’d introduce myself to the new omega on base. Figured we’d be seeing a lot of her around.”

“She’s no concern of yours.” Ghost says, a dangerous rumble vibrating at the edge of his voice. “You were given the briefing.”

He hesitates and you know he’s measuring the risk of staying, of saying something else. It’s not just the threat of a dangerous alpha, but also of his superior. “Of course, sir.” He finally says, eyeing you once more before he turns on his heel, leaving the mess.

“What do you want?”

You turn on your heel, staring up at Ghost. You’re shaking a little, staring up at him wide-eyed. You no longer feel the haze of sleep, wide awake and alert. Ghost is staring down at you, his scent far less prominent than it had been before.

“To drink.” He motions to the selection, waiting on you to answer.

You stare at the options, your brain trying hard to snap back into the present, to comprehend what you’re looking at. You’re on edge, on high alert after that confrontation.

“W-Water please.” You manage to stutter out,

“Go sit back down. I’ll get it.” He says, turning his back to you.

You scurry back to the table, still trembling as you take your seat again. You’re getting stares, likely from the change in your scent. It’s alerting every alpha and beta in close proximity, their instincts reacting to the scent of fear, of an threatened omega.

“Ye alright, hen?” Soap asks, giving you a worried look. The scent of beta washes over you, Soap projecting his scent to try and cover yours and calm you all at once.

You nod, trying to swallow the panic before you alert the entire mess to your current emotional state. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Ghost returns with a glass of water, setting it in front of you before taking his seat again.

“Thank you.” You murmur, taking a long drink of it. It’s ice cold, the sensation shocking you back into reality a bit.

You’re still trembling slightly as you eat, the back of your neck still prickling. You glance around the quickly emptying mess, eyes following every person that walks too close to the table. You know you’re safe. Soap and Ghost would make quick work of anyone who tried anything.

Ghost did make quick work of the alpha that had approached you.

You’re still in a bit of disbelief that Ghost had come to your aid. You remember the anger burning in his scent, the rumble at the edge of his voice. An alpha poised for a fight. Of course, you were being cornered by another alpha. You don’t doubt Soap could have easily won that fight if he had to, but an alpha had the natural advantage in a fight against other alphas. If it had been a beta cornering you, would he have still come to your aid? Or would he have watched and let Soap handle it?

You're drawn from your thoughts as Soap’s phone rings, and he dismisses himself from the table to answer it. You wonder who it might be. Family maybe? Price? You wish you had someone that would call you regularly. You will, once they start leaving you.

You’re left alone with Ghost, your eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. He takes your tray once you’re done, going to dump it before motioning for you to follow. You’re still a bit shaken, though you’ve managed to get your trembling under control, as well as your scent.

He leads you back towards the barracks, your pace faster to keep up with him. Your feet hurt, but you’re eager to get back to the familiar safety of the barracks.

You stop as a whistle sounds through the air, Ghost’s steps faltering as well.

“Gonna go spread your legs for that freak, bunny?” A voice calls out across the courtyard. “I’m sure I could offer you a better time. At least you’ll be able to see my face.”

The smell of ozone washes over you again, burning straight to some primal part of your brain. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion, or the emotions still reeling from your confrontation in the mess, but you turn on your heel, stalking over to the group of soldiers. You’re trembling again, but not out of fear. The anger has gone straight to your instincts, burning hot through your veins.

The soldiers laugh as you approach, the one that had spoken grinning vilely at you. “Gonna take me up on my offer, omega?” The sound of your title from his lips nearly makes you shudder in disgust. It’s wrong, it sounds wrong being said in such a way. “I’d love to bend you over and stare at that sweet ass all night-”

It’s not until your hand is throbbing that you register what happened. The soldier stumbles back a step, hand moving to his face. Your hand is balled in a fist, knuckles throbbing from the punch you delivered to his face. The next few moments seem to move in slow motion, your body pushed backwards as a hulking form comes to stand in front of you. The scent of ozone is still burning hot in your nose, anger pulsing through your body. Your ears are ringing, your hands refusing to unball from the fists they’ve closed into. You’re breathing heavily, eyes training on a small speck of mud on the back of Ghost’s jacket.

“-You even so much as look in her direction again, I’ll rip your intestines out, tie them to the back of a humvee and drag you all the way to London, understood?” The dangerous rumble is back at the edge of his voice, his own hands balled into fists.

“Loud and clear, sir.” The soldier spits out, massaging his face from your punch.

A rough hand closes around your arm, making you stumble as you’re half dragged towards the barracks. You’re breathing heavily, breaths coming in gasps as the flood of emotions through you grows to almost be too much. You’re led down the hall towards the rec room, Ghost pushing you inside.

“Sit.” He snaps, pointing at the couch.

You scramble to sit where he pointed, your brain beginning to move in autopilot as you cradle your throbbing hand to your chest. It’s still curled in a fist, the adrenaline pumping through you preventing you from uncurling your fingers. You try to steady your breathing as Ghost digs around in the fridge for a moment. You flinch as the door slams closed, Ghost dropping an ice pack on the coffee table before he takes a seat next to you on the couch.

He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him rather roughly. He forces your fingers to uncurl, his own rough fingers digging into your hand, poking and prodding. He moves your fingers, bending your wrist and moving your arm. “It’s not broken.” He says, grabbing the ice pack and slapping it across your knuckles. “Luckily.”

You’re still trembling, your hand lifting subconsciously to hold the ice pack in place. You feel dazed, not unlike you had earlier when you’d been pulled from sleep, only this time you can feel the emotions still pulsing through you. The remnants of anger, the disgust, the fear both from attacking an alpha, and the reprimanding you’re sure you’re due for doing such a thing.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” You murmur, feeling far away, outside of your body looking in.

“Probably not.” Ghost says.

You turn slightly to look at him, pupils dilated as you simultaneously appear to see him and look straight through him. “Price is gonna find out.”

Ghost nods again, the burn of ozone gone from his scent. “He’ll believe you, though. Anything you tell him, he’s going to believe you over what anyone else says.”

You stare at him, the skull mask from earlier gone, leaving him just in his balaclava. His eyelashes are blonde, you think as you take him in, trying to ground yourself. His skin looks soft, but that could just be the omega screaming at you. You expect him to get up, to leave you alone until you find the will to move, or one of the others finds you. Yet, he stays where he is, eyes focused across the room as you sit there.

“You’re a purebred alpha.” You say, breaking the silence with the thought that had come to mind earlier. You need to keep talking, to keep your mind steady while you relax.

“How did you figure it out?” He asks, not denying it.

“Your scent.” You say, recalling earlier in the mess, the way his scent had permeated your entire body. You hadn’t just sensed it, you had felt it. His emotions, his anger, the hint of desperation for the Corporal to make the smart decision and walk away. “It’s different from other alphas. Price smells good and I’d like to roll around in his scent, but yours hits some deep primal part of my brain.” You say, turning slowly to face him. “Makes sense you’d end up in a position like this. You’re supposed to be like, an apex human.” You laugh quietly. “Just a couple of purebreds. What are the odds?”

“Very high.” He answers.

You laugh again. “Yeah, I know. Both of my parents were purebreds, and my grandparents. Both of them came from a long line of purebreds.” Your brows pinch into a frown. “I didn’t see it in your file, though.”

“I don’t want it to be.” He explains.

“Makes sense.” You say. “If I’d had that choice I’d have it left out too. As soon as someone sees it, that’s how they measure your worth. It’s not about you anymore, it’s your status they want.” You lift the ice, moving your fingers. Your hand is sore, your knuckles starting to swell a bit.

“It’ll bruise.” He says, staring down at your hand.

“‘Spose it could have been worse.” You say, grimacing at the ache pulsing all the way to your shoulder.

“Yeah,” He scoffs. “You could have broken your arm with a punch like that.”

“‘S not my fault the CIA didn’t teach me much.” You murmur. “They mostly made me run.” You remember the hours and hours you spend running circles around the gym. So many circles, over and over again.

Get involved in their hobbies. Your brain flicks through that section of the book, an idea beginning to form in your head. You’d considered it a few days ago, when you first read that chapter. Ghost speaks in violence and warfare, fighting and defending. How do you bond with the apex of humankind?

“Teach me to fight.”

His eyes shift slowly until he’s looking at you. You wish you could see the rest of his face, read his expression. His eyes don't give you much to go off of, something he'd likely perfected over the years.

“Or, at least defend myself.” You continue, fighting the urge to shrink back under his gaze. “I know, Price already told me to run first, but what if that's not an option? Am I gonna throw a shitty punch and hope it works? Aim between the legs and hope I'm faster than they can block? I promise I won't go around trying to fight asshole alphas.”

He continues to stare at you, his eyes locked on yours. Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach twisting nervously but there's no challenge in his gaze, not even a playful one like you'd initiated with Price. He's simply staring.

You wonder what he's looking for, what he's thinking. Will he laugh at you for asking? Tell you to ask someone else? Get Price to do it since he’s actually your alpha?

“Fine.” He grunts, breaking eye contact first as he pushes himself to stand. “We start Monday. Early.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him leave the rec room. You may have just found your way into Ghost’s heart, or at least a way to get him to tolerate your presence.

Monday. Early.

You’ll be ready.

Taglist Part 1:

@bobaprint, @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10

#call of duty fic #call of duty #cod fic #john price x reader #captain price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #a/b/o #alpha beta omega dynamics #omegaverse #x reader

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cherienymphe · 4 months

Text

Teenage Dirtbag VI (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

“I… I don’t know, Sarah,” you sighed, gaze resting on your wall as you held your phone up to your ear.

“What is there to think about? Rafe and my dad left this morning and won’t be back until tomorrow night…”

“I know.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” you heard her huff over the phone. “Rafe won’t know. You’ll be back in your house and waiting for him like the perfect girlfriend before he even has time to pull into the driveway.”

She said it so sweetly that you almost laughed, but all you could do was worry. Ward and Rafe needed to go to Charleston—they’d be staying the night—and for the first time in a while, you’d be without Rafe for at least a day. When he told you, all you’d been able to focus on was 24 hours without having to walk on egg shells or having to overthink every word. It hadn’t even crossed your mind that this was an opportunity for…more.

Rafe had been extra irritable as of late so doing anything that could bring on his wrath was so far from your mind…but then Sarah called you the moment they left…and all of a sudden the idea of going to The Cut of all places was being presented to you. You sat up, sliding your legs underneath you as you wracked your brain. You cursed Sarah in this moment.

…because you did kind of want to go.

When it came to Outer Banks, the farthest you’d ever gone outside of Figure 8 was the beach which technically didn’t count. It was a middle ground of sorts. No man’s land, and because your parents hardly discussed what went on on the other side of the island, you’d never had much desire or curiosity about it. Things were different, now, though.

…and it wasn’t just because of Sarah.

Blue eyes came to mind…and they didn’t belong to Rafe. If someone had told you months ago that your thoughts would be consumed by one JJ Maybank and the effect he was starting to have on you, you’d suggest they needed to be in a padded room. A year ago, you could barely recall his name. Months ago, he was that guy from The Cut that your boyfriend hated with a passion. Now…

Now, he was the guy who sometimes sought you out for painkillers after his dad put his hands on him. He was the guy who liked to tease you and tell you how much of an asshole your boyfriend was. He was the guy who wasn’t afraid of Rafe…and he was the only one outside of your family that had access to your parents’ pool house.

So far you didn’t think you’d seen him using it, and you supposed he didn’t have to take you up on the offer, but you did feel better knowing he had access to a place where he could safely sleep for a few days if need be. As much trouble as it could possibly bring, you definitely didn’t regret what you did. JJ was in trouble, and while he was in trouble like you were in trouble, it wasn’t exactly the same.

He didn’t have security and resources like you did. You’d never seen his house, but the way Sarah talked, you felt it safe to assume that he didn’t have a cozy space where he could just lock himself away to safely hide in. You both were in pretty crappy situations, but you felt you had a lot more to be grateful for than him, and the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to see him just to make sure he was okay.

So, your next words didn’t surprise you.

“I can’t take my car,” you told Sarah, thinking about the AirTag.

You heard Sarah’s hitch of breath, and you knew that she was both surprised and excited by your response.

“You’ve seen John B.’s van. He could fit like ten people in there if he really wanted to,” she laughed. “I’ll ride my bike to your house and then he’ll pick us both up from there.”

You were a little in disbelief that you agreed to this, and you were still in disbelief ten minutes later as you looked in the mirror adjusting your skirt. You felt overdressed, but the most casual thing you owned was an oversized t-shirt that actually belonged to Rafe, and you didn’t feel comfortable walking out of the house in that. You’d changed three times in the span of seven minutes, and you would wonder why you felt so flustered and nervous if you didn’t already know deep down.

When your mother let Sarah into the house, standing in front of the mirror was exactly where the blonde found you once you gave her the okay to come into your room.

“It’s really not that big of a deal. They’re my friends, not Congress,” she said to you as she sat on your bed.

“…but what if they don’t like me?”

Sarah playfully rolled her eyes before standing. You watched her walk around your room, taking in the odd detail here and there.

“They’ll like you just fine. They’re not nearly as judgmental as the usual crowd you hang out with,” she murmured, pointedly eyeing a picture of Rafe on your nightstand. “Kie and JJ are really the only ones you need to worry about. Kie just has a natural distrust of anyone who hangs around Rafe and Topper and Kelce, to be honest.”

You pressed your lips together, unable to find it in yourself to blame her for that.

“…and JJ just has a natural distrust of Kooks, period, but…” she looked at you. “Considering you apologized to him for what Rade did, I’m pretty sure he won’t be nearly as hard on you. Plus, you gave him drugs. I’m willing to bet he probably even kind of loves you, now.”

She laughed to herself, and you had to remind yourself that she didn’t know about all of the little run-ins you and JJ had since then. You decided to trust her advice, fingering your skirt just as she looked at her phone. You’d only just been able to relax when she told you John B. was outside, and telling yourself that you were really going through with this, you followed her downstairs.

You gave your mom a kiss on the cheek on the way out, only telling her you’d be with Sarah for a few hours. While your parents were a far cry from Rose or Topper’s parents, you didn’t know how she’d feel about you going to hang out on the other side of the island, and you felt like it was the worst time to find out. When you made it outside, your heart had only just settled some…and then the door to the van opened.

…and your heart dropped.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing JJ along for the ride.”

“He wanted to see where Y/N lived,” the brunette shrugged.

You barely paid attention to Sarah and John B.’s small back and forth, still thrown by the sight of the blond. You thought you would’ve had more time to prepare yourself to be in close proximity with him for hours on end. You weren’t ready for it to start so soon, and you swallowed as Sarah climbed into the passenger seat, signaling that you were the last one holding everyone up.

While Sarah and her boyfriend discussed something or another, JJ held his hand out to you.

Your lips parted at the sight, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest…but not because of JJ. He was certainly staring at you with that intensity you weren’t used to from anyone but Rafe, but unfortunately…it was Rafe that you were thinking about. Your boyfriend wasn’t even on the island, and all you could think about was what would happen if he saw you take JJ’s hand, right now. It had you frowning and then frowning some more when you thought about what he would do if he found out you went to The Cut.

For a moment, you wondered what the hell you were thinking, and you had a feeling that it was written all over your face too. You were suddenly paralyzed by fear and doubt, and you opened your mouth, a thousand apologies on your mind for wasting their time. It was just on the tip of your tongue, and you were even about to take a step back…when JJ’s hand circled around your wrist.

Your wide eyes met his, and with a subtle shake of his head, he halfway leaned out of the van to take your other hand too. In a daze, you allowed him to pull you inside, carefully stepping up when he told you to watch your feet. His hand was still on yours when he closed the door, and you sat beside him just as John B. pulled out of the driveway.

You couldn’t tell if that had all happened so fast or if Sarah and John B. were just that caught up in their conversation.

You blinked, looking around the inside of the van and taking in every sticker and imperfection and every homemade effort to make the van comfortable. You looked at each of your sides with a frown, and you heard JJ snort from beside you. When you looked up, you weren’t surprised to find his gaze resting on you.

“There aren’t any seatbelts…so if things get rough, I guess you’ll just have to hold onto me,” he told you with a small grin.

Sarah heard that.

“Don’t be disgusting, JJ. She’s dating Rafe, and you know he’d run you down in a heartbeat for talking to her like that,” she threw over her shoulder.

“It’s fine, Sarah. I know he’s just joking,” you nervously chuckled, hating the mention of Rafe.

“Yeah, Sarah, it’s fine,” JJ seconded, and you chose not to focus on how he didn’t confirm that he was joking.

You gave him a look when he shot you another grin, and you tried not to focus on how awkward you felt. You couldn’t quite place how you felt about JJ, and that’s what made this whole thing even more nerve-wracking. Sarah’s friends were Sarah’s friends…but JJ didn’t exactly easily fit into that simple categorization anymore. He wasn’t your friend…he couldn’t be your friend…and yet weirdly enough, he kind of felt like it.

“So, Rafe won’t be back until tomorrow night, huh.”

You glanced at him, and accepting that you simply couldn’t ignore him like you usually liked to do, you sighed. You were in his best friend’s van on the way to his side of the island. Avoiding conversation with him under these circumstances would really make you seem like another stuck up Kook…and you liked to think that you weren’t.

“Yeah,” you told him. “He and Ward are in Charleston, and it just makes sense to stay the night.”

JJ seemed to be thinking that over, a slight frown on his face.

“So…what…? You were just going to wait around at home until he gets back?”

You didn’t like JJ’s tone, and you rolled your eyes.

“I do have a life, you know.”

JJ fixed you with a look as if urging you to go on.

“I have…online classes and things to do around the house…”

You trailed off when JJ snorted, and it didn’t sound humorous.

“Jesus,” he breathed. “What’s the point in going through the fuss of dating when you’re already his perfect little housewife?”

You felt yourself bristle at the blonde’s words, and by the slow smirk on his lips, you knew that he could tell how they affected you.

“I’m just saying. The way you act with him, you’d think that you’d have a ring on your finger and a baby on the way.”

You bit your tongue at that, unsure of how to even respond because he wasn’t completely wrong. All this talk about Rafe only made that uneasiness return, and you swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” you murmured.

You felt JJ’s eyes on you as your gaze found your lap. Sarah and John B. were still talking up front, and after some time, you heard JJ sigh. When he touched your hand, you reluctantly looked at him, and he at least had the sense to look apologetic.

“Hey,” he quietly said, voice lowered and gentle. “I’m just teasing.”

You tilted your head at him, privy to just what he thought of Rafe, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Mostly,” he slowly said. “I do think Rafe’s a controlling asshole, but…it’s not my place.”

He held your gaze, and you eventually nodded at him, letting him know you appreciated the unspoken apology. You turned to stare ahead, trying to ignore JJ’s close proximity and the way it made you all too aware of every feeling in your body.

You were reluctant to take a drink, knowing exactly how Sarah would react, and she didn’t disappoint.

“That’s…disgusting,” she spat, looking like she was moments away from being sick.

“Well, what am I supposed to do Sarah? Lie?”

The rest of her friends found the situation funny while the blonde was far from amused. A game of Never Have I Ever turned from something lighthearted and silly to something a little more…personal. With a few drinks already in you, it hadn’t occurred to you to just lie when Cleo said the words ‘never have I ever done anal’. Now, Sarah was looking at you like you’d just told her Ward liked to be handcuffed to the bed and slapped.

“I feel like that really shouldn’t surprise you, Sarah,” Kie commented.

“No, it doesn’t surprise me, I guess, but it’s not something I enjoy having confirmed,” she sighed. “Okay, considering Y/N is literally dating my brother, how about we forbid any more sex related topics.”

She was only met with more chuckles.

“I’m serious. For my sanity…”

“How about game over? I feel like going for a swim, anyway.”

JJ’s voice and tone startled you, and you only realized why when you looked at him. His expression was unreadable, but it was only then did you remember that when your gaze passed over him a moment ago, like Sarah, he too hadn’t been laughing. In fact, he’d been pretty quiet, and the sudden reminder of his presence caught you off guard.

“Yeah, I do want another beer,” John B. agreed, pushing himself to his feet.

Sarah and Kie followed him while Pope moved closer to Cleo, the dark-skinned boy saying something to her that made her snort.

“You know I have to ask, right?” he suddenly said to you, and you laughed to yourself, having a feeling where this was going. “What do you possibly see in Rafe?”

You could tell that Pope wasn’t trying to be an ass about it or nosy—he was merely genuinely curious. And thrown. Cleo shook her head at her boyfriend, bumping his shoulder with hers.

“The heart wants what it wants…”

Your attention was pulled away from them by the sight of JJ hurriedly getting to his feet. You eyed him, still thrown by his change in attitude, but you forced yourself to look away when he reached behind his head to pull his shirt off. You reluctantly gave Pope your focus again when he spoke.

“I mean, everybody knows that you and Rafe are together. You guys are probably going to get married, and sure it’s one thing to hear about Rafe’s girlfriend and see her in passing, but now I actually have you before me and I can ask you for myself… What do you see in that guy?”

Cleo laughed, and you forced yourself to join her. You shook your head, knowing that you could never tell Pope the truth in a million years.

“Cleo’s right,” you relented with a shrug. “The heart wants what it wants.”

Your answer was followed by a splash, and you glanced over, noting that you couldn’t really make out JJ in the dark. Pope’s soft noise of disapproval reached your ears, and you felt your face fall a little as you stared out into the water. Glancing at the couple before you—and seeing that they were wrapped up in a conversation—you stood and slowly made your way to where JJ was.

On the dock, you could make him out much better, and you eyed him as he slowly waded through the water.

“Isn’t it a little cool to be in the water?” you wondered after a few moments of neither of you saying a thing.

JJ chuckled, and in the dark, his teeth looked predatory.

“Only one way to find out for yourself.”

“Ha ha.”

He moved closer, and you watched him place his hands on the wood of the dock…just in front of your feet.

“Do I seem like I’m joking?” he wondered.

You rolled your eyes.

“For one thing, it’s a little too cold for me,” you told him. “…and also I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Like a bra and underwear are really that different,” he commented.

“They are to me,” you argued.

The blond didn’t reply right away, and eventually a humorless chuckle reached your ears.

“I bet they are,” he dryly said. “Let me guess… One, Rafe wouldn’t mind you wearing out in public and the other he’d literally lose his shit over.”

You pressed your lips together.

“Am I right?” he wondered, reaching over to touch your leg.

You jumped at the cold wet feel, and JJ laughed to himself.

“It’s too cold for you to be in there. You should get out,” you advised.

“You sound worried…”

You were, and you pressed your lips together, wondering why that seemed so crazy to him.

“Besides, I don’t exactly enjoy hearing about your sex life with Rafe Cameron,” JJ drawled. “So, if that’s what I have to look forward to if I get out…I’m good.”

You blinked at that, and something in his tone told you he wasn’t opposed to it for the same reasons Sarah was.

“It was just a game, JJ…and he’s my boyfriend,” you whispered.

It was then that the blond finally decided to listen to you, pulling himself up onto the dock. His hair was weighed down with water, droplets dripping over his face and body as his gaze met yours. You didn’t understand how he wasn’t shaking—you’d long regretted putting on a skirt—and you straightened once it registered how close he was.

It took a lot of effort to keep your eyes on his face, and his own gaze briefly lowered when you crossed your arms over your chest. You could briefly hear his friends talking around what sounded like a small fire, now, but your attention was solely on JJ. His eyes flitted over your face, and you hated the way they lingered on your lips—mostly how it made you feel.

“Yeah, and we both know how I feel about that little fact.”

His words were quiet, just loud enough for you to hear, and you shuddered when his arm grazed yours as he brushed by you. You blinked a few times, forcing yourself to take a deep breath before turning and reluctantly following him. As you rejoined the others, you couldn’t stop glancing at JJ as he made his way inside, and knowing that you had no real reason to, you had a pressing desire to join him instead.

“I called you last night.”

You blinked, staring out into the yard at Sarah and her friends.

“I know. That’s why I called you back. I knocked out pretty early yesterday,” you told Rafe.

It was a lie.

John B. didn’t bring you and Sarah back to Figure 8 until after midnight. You’d made the decision to leave your phone at home. The only other option was to simply stop sharing your location with your boyfriend, and if you did that…he’d know something was up. It was better for him to think you were at home and just away from your phone in some way.

It was risky…so risky…but it was the most fun you’d had in almost two years.

Sarah’s friends were nice—mostly. Kiara was really the only one who hadn’t warmed up to you much, and considering Sarah’s explanation for why that may be, you didn’t fault her for it. She had every right to be wary of you, and truthfully, in her shoes, you might’ve done the same. Aside from that, you felt welcome…included…and most of all like your own person.

It felt good to be around people where you didn’t have to tip toe around anyone and be overly cautious of what you said or did. For the first time in so long, you could just be, and the thought had you blinking back tears. You didn’t know when you’d get to feel that again, and the train of thought almost had you missing Rafe’s response.

“You get too wrapped up in homework. Always falling asleep on your computer,” he chuckled, and you forced one in response. “I see you’re at my house.”

You pulled your eyes away from the window…only to be startled by the sight of JJ leaning against the wall.

“Yeah,” you told him after gathering your thoughts. “You know I just relax better in your bed, sometimes.”

Rafe hummed, and you eyed JJ again, frowning at the blond. He didn’t react, merely raking his eyes over you.

“We’re going to be leaving in a few hours. Is that where you’ll be waiting for me when I get back?” his tone of voice wasn’t subtle, and you felt your face fall. “I missed you last night.”

You took a deep breath.

“Of course,” you evenly told him. “I missed you too.”

Your phone call with Rafe only lasted a few more minutes, and when you finally hung up, JJ was still hanging around.

“You’re a lot quieter than you look, you know that?”

You moved past him, making your way towards the back door. You didn’t exactly expect JJ to follow you—fully expecting him to go out the front and rejoin his friends—but for some reason you weren’t all that surprised by it either.

“Why are you with him?”

That was the question that met your ears the moment you stepped outside. Scrunching your nose, you turned to face JJ, giving him a questioning look.

“Haven’t we been down this road before?”

“Yeah, but that was before…”

There was nothing humorous about JJ’s tone, and your own smile fell once you took in the evenness of his expression. There was a slight frown between his brows as he stared at you, and you felt a frown of your own taking over as confusion filled you. JJ was entirely serious—a first—as he gazed at you, and something on your chest sank.

“I don’t…”

“That was before when I thought…” he trailed off, throwing his arms up. “When I thought you were just another spoiled Kook princess.”

You briefly glanced away, shifting on your feet.

“I mean, sure. You come from a nice family, and you’re polite, but you’re dating Rafe, so I thought…how nice can she really be?”

You didn’t know how to feel about that, and JJ kept going before you had time to linger on it.

“You see those girls who’s dating some asshole that doesn’t deserve her, and sure, he doesn’t, but then you realize they’re more alike than you thought, and she actually isn’t too much better than him, and you know what, maybe they’re more suited than you assumed,” he scoffed. “Maybe her willingness to overlook what he’s like isn’t because she wants to see the good in him but because she can actually relate in some ways.”

Your face hadn’t evened out once since he started talking, and you eyed JJ when he stepped closer. There was a look in his blue gaze that you couldn’t place, and when he studied your face, you felt very…exposed.

“That was when I thought you were that girl…”

You swallowed.

“…but you’re nice,” JJ whispered, and for some reason, you really hated the way he was looking at you. “Actually nice.”

Your lips parted, and you fought to find something to say.

“Sarah’s always said it, you know, but…”

JJ’s words died in the air as he glanced away, and you watched his face harden, jaw ticking as he seemed to be deep in thought.

“All I could think last night was…” his eyes met yours again. “Why is a girl like that with Rafe Cameron?”

You took a deep breath, it was shaky, and you reached up to rub your forehead.

“JJ-.”

“What do you see in him?” he wondered, closer now. “Why are you with him?”

You shook your head, fighting to come up with the words.

“You…you don’t know him like I do,” was your response.

It wasn’t a lie.

“I don’t know him like you do?” JJ incredulously wondered, his face so close to yours. “My face and his fist are actually best friends, if you didn’t know.”

“I love him.”

You stared into JJ’s eyes as you said this, and the longer he stared into yours, the deeper his frown became. JJ blinked at you, once then twice, and you watched him rear back slightly. A few blond strands hung into his face as he eyed you…from head to toe and back, and he scoffed.

“You’re lying,” he whispered.

He continued just as you opened your mouth.

“You’re a good liar,” he said, just…watching you. “…but you’re not the best. You’re lying.”

Wanting this conversation to end, you looked away.

“Believe what you want, but why I’m with Rafe doesn’t concern you. It’s literally not your business.”

When you tried to go back inside, JJ blocked your path, and you looked at him like he’d lost his mind. It didn’t have the desired effect though, JJ staring you down with one raised eyebrow.

“Maybe I want to make it my business,” he bit out.

“Why? Because I was kind to you? Because I offered you a place-?”

“…because your boyfriend’s a dick.”

You stumbled back when he moved closer, the blond invading your personal space.

“…and I don’t think you want to be with him,” he murmured.

JJ’s boldness threw you off, and you frantically blinked, shaking your head at him.

“You don’t know what I want,” you whispered.

You only just realized how close JJ was, his nose brushing yours when he only leaned in a tad more. The realization had your breath hitching, and as JJ’s chest grazed yours, you felt like there was a roaring sound in your ears. For a moment, you forgot all about Rafe—your boyfriend—and all you could focus on was the relaxing scent of JJ and his nose touching yours and his chest being so close to yours.

Your heart was going crazy in your chest, and it took you too long to realize that you were…anxious…and yearning…for a kiss you thought was about to happen. That was because you wanted the kiss to happen, and that realization had you taking a step back, eyes wide and disbelieving. Your fingers were shaking as you stared at JJ, but the blond didn’t look nearly as distressed as you felt. In fact, there was a glint in his eye that was so familiar to you.

The problem, however, was that it was only familiar with Rafe.

…but JJ was not Rafe.

…and while the look was the same, the way you were feeling was not.

In a panic, you rushed by JJ, determined to go back inside and far away from him. However, your hand was on the door when JJ spoke again, his words making your hair stand on end.

“I think I can guess…”

You felt your stomach turn, and swallowing down food that threatened to come up, you hurried inside, slamming the door behind you.

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ahundredtimesover · 2 months

Text

I Want You to Stay (08) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; use of the term slut in a derogatory way, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 17.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii thank you again for all your love and appreciation for this story. Srsly, I'm perpetually blown away 🥰 But like I've mentioned, updates will take longer after this as I return to uni, so I hope for your patience as we get closer to the end.

This chapter also contains triggering topics such as sexual harassment and attempted assault. There's a discussion on what happens after something traumatizing like that, so pls be cautious and know that what's depicted here is just another way of dealing with such experience.

On another note, I hope you enjoy this!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The end-of-autumn chilly air pierces through your skin, lingering even as you settle inside the plant store that gives the warmth that you need. You sigh in relief, and Soomin and Jimin giggle at you because they know how you are. It’s why during moments like this, their affection shows, hugging you from each side as you look up at the shelf for another rubber tree you want to add to your collection.

“What are you two on about?” You ask, nonchalantly releasing your arm to get your chosen glossy plant.

“Nothing, just showing our love,” Soomin says, resting her chin on your shoulder. “We know you love the cold even if you easily get cold. You don’t like hugs either but you can’t do anything about us.”

“It’s true that I can’t do anything about the both of you,” you hum. “But you also know it’s not that I don’t like hugs. It’s just not my preferred form of affection.”

“Even after all the years that we’ve been giving it to you?” Jimin asks, as he pulls away from you to place the plant in your cart.

“Yeah. I mean, if I only give or receive it every few weeks, then it wouldn’t be,” you respond. “But I also wouldn’t really know. Other than you guys, there’s not much affection I feel towards other people.”

It’s a reality you’ve long accepted. You’re away from your family and friends, and the only other form of affection you receive is through sex with the few men you’ve been interested in - pleasurable at best, shallow at worst. Perhaps it’s the reason why you do, you think now. They’re still good substitutes. Being alone doesn’t feel so lonely when you’re intimate with people you don’t exactly share moments of intimacy with. You’ve learned these last few years that there’s a difference.

Your friends just hum in agreement, choosing now to point out that your home is transforming into some zen garden with the amount of plants you’ve bought just this last month.

“Should I just be a gardener or a plant store worker?” You look at them. “Or study to become a landscape designer?”

“Honey, tending to low-maintenance plants is a different thing,” Soomin chuckles. “That’s a start, though. But kidding aside, so a career change is what you’re going for?”

“Hmm, just a thought,” you shrug. “What if moving companies isn’t just what I need? What if it’s doing something completely different? Like being out of an office or answering to someone or something?”

“That’s true. Sometimes we find what we’re looking for in unfamiliar environments,” Jimin chimes in. “Are you thinking about doing it soon?”

“Maybe not,” you say. “I’ve become quite invested in the Arts Center and I really wanna see it through. Maybe after it’s opened, then that’s when I’ll finally step away.”

“Well, you have been doing a lot of work for it,” Soomin agrees. “But… are you sure it’s the only thing holding you back? And not someone specific? A boss, maybe?”

“The Arts Center isn’t holding me back, Soo. And neither is Jungkook,” you state. “After all the years I spent in the company, I don’t wanna let anything or anyone keep me from doing what’s best for me. I don’t… I don’t wanna get stuck there. I don’t wanna keep feeling indebted. That’s what’s held me back this whole time.”

“Oh, hun,” Soomin sighs. “You don’t owe anyone anything. And if you did, you’ve paid your dues, all eight years of them.”

As Jimin heads out to get his car, she entangles her arm around yours and asks again if your decision to wait to resign has something to do with Jungkook.

“Why are you so insistent?” You frown at her.

“Just… wondering. You haven’t expressed disdain for him in so long. Even the weekly ugh work drives me nuts messages have stopped, and that says a lot. I was just thinking that maybe he’s gone soft on you, and that you’ve gone soft on him, too. I just wanna make sure I’m ready when you drop the bomb on us or something. I mean, you two have so much tension, who knows what’ll happen?”

“Okay, what if I’ve just developed better coping mechanisms now and can manage without complaining about it? That’s a possibility. And, even if I’ve been busy with organizing events and stuff, I actually enjoy that,” you explain.

“Okay. So what about Jungkook?”

You look away, knowing that any acknowledgment of the comfort you’ve started to feel around him may start to mean something else once you say it. Admitting even the tiniest bit of attraction is even more of a no-no, so you just play it off, the same way you did when you got home from the gala and you dodged all questions about him, choosing instead to talk about the delicious food and the weird people you met.

“We’ve found a way to move on from how we started and learned that we actually work really well together. We have to be professional and all that.”

Right, you scoff to yourself. Thinking about your boss’ smile as you fall asleep is anything but professional.

“Fine, whatever you say,” she gives in as the car comes into view. “Just know that I’m here, okay? Jimin’s a bit protective and still hasn’t gotten over how that man treated you so you can talk to me in case anything else changes.”

“I will,” you say, giving her hand a squeeze.

You spend the rest of that weekend watching movies and singing your hearts out at a karaoke and stuffing your faces with good food. Before you know it, you’re back in your bed on a Sunday, all alone, but you don’t feel so lonely, nor do you feel so terrible at having to start another week. If anything, you’re wondering how Jungkook spent these last two days. At a club, maybe. He did say there’s always a party he’s invited to.

You stop yourself from thinking of what happens after that. He’s got women at his beck and call after all, even when he’s in Singapore, as Lucas had told you during your call two months ago. But it doesn’t really matter - Jungkook is Jungkook and you’re you. And that’s not yet even considering the glaring reality of him being your boss.

Ever since the gala, you can say that there’s been a change in how you’ve been with him. There’s a lot more attention, you’d say. There’s more admiration, too, when it comes to him doing his work, making decisions, and drawing up plans and designs.

You understand the distance and the detachment somehow. You suppose that whatever he experienced made him that way, so you’d make an effort into making him smile, teasing him a little more than usual so there’s a bit more joy in his day. You can say he’s gotten used to it. Even Mr. Ri would laugh and join in.

And that’s the thing - you anticipate it. You look forward to the curl of his lips and the dip on his lower cheek and the softness in his eyes and the way he turns away or bows his head to hide it. Even the way he’d play it off is quite endearing, a term you never thought you’d use to describe him. It makes you wonder if people had tried to get to know him, maybe knock on the door and wait around to see if he’d come out and let them in.

But all that has brought you to right now - Sunday night as you think about seeing him the next morning. You think back to all the times that you’d entered his penthouse and saw him in his gym attire post-workout, the seconds you’d spent so close to him as you adjusted his necktie, and the breakfasts and car rides you’d shared. You recall the nods of acknowledgement after serving him his coffee, the times he’d agreed with your recommendations, and the instances he’d turned to you for support and his look of thanks after you’ve given it.

Then there’s the grazing of your fingertips, the brushing of arms, the interlocking of eyes.

And your heart, beating a little too fast then.

You groan to yourself. You really have to find a way for this to stop.

You try to keep your distance from Jungkook for the next few days.

You do your usual - fix his outfit, eat with him the breakfast you prepared, go through schedules, and join him in meetings. You do away with the eye contact, you skip the teasing, and you don’t share about your evening like you’ve been doing. And that’s only because doing so just gives you moments to remember, like his gazes lingering or the sound of his laughter. Even more, it messes with your mind thinking that just like you, he spends most of his weeknights alone.

You act unbothered, although him catching you looking at him from your office seat and then you, quickly looking away doesn’t really help your case.

It’s on Wednesday when he passes by your desk to put back some files and you return to your task after giving him a small smile when he asks if you’re okay.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon. Just a little tired but aren’t we all?” You respond, your eyes flitting from him to your desktop screen.

“Yes, but most of us take breaks. You don’t,” he counters.

“Neither do you,” you turn to him with an arched brow.

It’s become a habit of yours to remind him to rest but just like you, he’s pretty stubborn.

“Ah, there you are,” he chuckles. “I was almost convinced you’re not really my assistant if you didn’t point that out but alas, it’s you.”

“Are you testing me, sir?” You frown at him.

A mistake, really, since he gives you that teasing smirk of his that you’re learning is your weakness.

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “You just haven’t seemed like yourself all week and I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay. You can take a leave tomorrow, if that’s what you need.”

“It’s okay, sir. And I’m fine,” you assure him, realizing that there’s not much that could keep you away from him. “Plus, we have that dinner with the media festival organizers tomorrow evening and it’s the only time they’re free.”

“I know,” he sighs. “As long as you’re sure. It’s selfish but I do need you there.”

Of course he does, you think to yourself. You’re there to make his life easier, after all. It’s the only reason why he’d ever need you or want you around.

You confirm that you’ll go to work tomorrow and sigh in relief when he doesn’t say anything more. You decide to go home, wanting to get to the weekend so you can find some distraction, in whatever way that may be.

Thursday comes and you spend your day divided between working with the support team for the upcoming VP events and coordinating with the Arts Center marketing team for the deliverables they need signed off.

It’s busy enough that you don’t see much of Jungkook but that only really lasts until you have to accompany him to that welcome dinner with the organizers of the international media festival that Jungkook wanted to collaborate with for the Arts Center promotions. It’s happening in August of next year and while the partnership has been established, he wants to work on his relationship with them so that the plans could firm up quickly.

You head to Jungkook’s restaurant of choice in Itaewon, a fancy place that serves Korean dishes in a modern, artistic way. You’ve heard about it before; the food looks like something you could put at an art gallery. Korea’s exceptional ability to merge traditional and modern elements is reflected in this restaurant’s menu. It’s why he wanted to bring them here, he tells you.

You settle in your seat, excited for the dishes that are about to come out, and that’s when you see him, the man you dated before Hajoon, and someone you haven’t heard from in a while. Of course, that wasn’t always the case. He continued to reach out months after you ended things with him. It seemed harmless then, and it was only two years ago when he finally stopped.

Chi-won recognizes you first, having come in to serve the first set of dishes. He stares as he sets the plate in front of you, his gaze lingering even as he moves on to one of the organizers to your right. He looks different, which is why it took you another look for his face to register. He’s lost weight and cut his hair; his features look somehow harder, too.

There’s an intensity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. He was pretty laid-back, a reason why you both clicked that first time. He’d have his moments of frustration, letting them out in his own ways like in the bedroom, but he always seemed to get over them quickly.

Things were always casual and you made sure he knew that. He didn’t seem to mind at first but he started to want more and with your new role with Hoseok then, you were always tired and busy. The nights with Chi-won stopped being your relief, and when you told him you couldn’t see him anymore, he seemed to accept it. The messages shortly after were just about asking how you were doing and after answering twice, you stopped replying and then changed your number. You haven’t heard from him since, and you assumed he’d just accepted things and moved on.

But tonight you feel the tension, and so when he stands close to you when he serves the succeeding plates and when he waits around your table to watch you eat, you start to feel uncomfortable.

You try to be present in the conversation happening around you, as the organizers seem to be enjoying the meal while also pitching in some ideas for the launch. You try to focus on Jungkook’s voice this time to distract you. But the pair of eyes that seems to watch your every move starts to become too much, and the anxiety builds as each second ticks by.

It’s while you wait for the dessert when you take the opportunity to step out. Jungkook mentions the invitation drafts so you say that they’re saved in your iPad that you’ll retrieve from the car parked on the other street. He agrees that it would be good to show them, so you excuse yourself and get some much needed fresh air, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulder just by not being in the same space as Chi-won.

That is, until you hear a familiar voice call your name.

You stiffen for only a moment then continue to walk, fumbling for your phone as you try to dial Mr. Ri’s number. But you don’t get to, as the man following you pulls your wrist to get you to face him. You jerk in response, dropping your phone on the ground, and the fear fills you immediately.

“Don’t touch me,” you seeth, cradling your arm as you pick up your phone.

You try to stay calm, even as his smug face gives you chills, and you try to remember the man who liked to laugh and joke around those years ago, seeing now that he’s nothing like him.

“Funny you say that when that’s all you wanted me to do before,” he mocks, inching closer to you. “I know you remember, ___. Those nights were amazing, weren’t they? Your body and your moans told me so, so I don’t know why you wanted them to stop.”

You want to stay silent and not give him anything, but there’s desperation in his eyes, and you’re afraid of what he’ll do if you don’t even acknowledge him, so you give the same explanation you did before.

“I told you. I didn’t want anything serious,” you say, making sure you keep your distance from him.

“That’s not what you’d say whenever you’re drunk,” he counters. “You’d go on about not wanting to be alone, about wanting to be taken care of and being with someone who made you feel loved.”

“I never said I wanted it to be you,” you respond, too quickly for his liking it seems, as you see his look turn into anger.

“So what was I for?” He demands. “Just the guy you fucked for the sake of it?”

“I was stressed with work and you hated yours,” you remind him. “That’s all we needed each other for.”

“But things changed for me,” he says, his voice softening again, the fluctuation of his tone scaring you even more. “I wanted to be with you. And seeing you now, I know I still do.”

“But I don’t,” you state. “I didn’t then and I don’t even now.”

“But you wanted that restaurant owner, didn’t you?” He demands, worrying you that he knows about Hajoon.

“No, that didn’t mean anything. We were never together.”

“Bullshit, ___. I’d see you at the clubs around here with his arm on your waist, just like I used to do. That clearly meant something.”

The thought that Chi-won kept tabs on you even after you ended things makes you angry. Perhaps it’s because he works around the area you frequented during those times but even then, the fact that he even knows what Hajoon does for a living is crossing the line, and in your frustration, you hit Chi-won where it hurts the most.

“Clearly it didn’t mean enough because I’m not seeing him anymore. And I was never serious with him, just like I wasn’t with you.”

He visibly groans. He walks closer to you again, prompting you to walk backwards. With you turned back and walking on your heels on the uneven pavement, you’re worried you’ll hurt yourself. Even more, a part of you is scared that he’ll hurt you. It’s still early on a Thursday night and you’re in the quieter part of town so there aren’t many people walking on the streets; those who are are too far for you to catch their attention. So you continue your steps until you’re backed up against the wall and with nowhere to go, you start to panic, feeling the fear slowly overtake you.

“You know, I came out here because I wanted to talk to you just to see how you were doing since you know, I actually cared about you like you wanted,” he rolls his eyes. “But seeing you act like none of what we shared mattered just makes me so angry. Why do you get to go on and treat me like shit? I’m just gonna have to do the same, then.”

At this, he cages you, his face too close to yours that you freeze in fear. The smirk makes you nauseous, but somehow you find the strength to push him away but he comes back right after, closer each time.

“I said, don’t touch me!” You yell, giving him another shove. “Just stay away from me!”

Chi-won grabs your wrist once more, holding you tightly so he can show you that he has control and that he can do whatever he wants.

“Let me go!” You plead, but he doesn’t budge.

“I don’t want to, not when I get to have you all alone after so long,” he hums, licking his lips and dragging his eyes all over your body. “I always liked it when you came over wearing that skirt of yours.”

You know this is what he wants. He wants you to be scared, he wants to haunt your dreams and not make you forget him because he knows that you obviously already had. You’re terrified but you try to gather whatever courage you have within you to fight back.

But it’s then that you hear footsteps, and a shadow appears behind Chi-won.

“She said to let her go.”

Jungkook’s voice is hard, tense, angry. But there’s control, and you can tell that he’s trying to hold himself back. He comes into view, the mix of worry and anger on his face helping to relieve your fear.

But it doesn’t affect Chi-won, as he continues to hold onto your wrist. Your strained face lets Jungkook know that you’re still in the man’s hold, prompting him to walk closer and repeat his words.

“I said to let her go,” he demands. “Do it. Because we both know there are so many things I can do to you and smashing your face is just one of them.”

Jungkook rolls up his sleeves and clenches his fists. He doesn’t think it’s enough to scare the man who’s holding you hostage but he thinks it’s enough to show that he’s indeed willing to throw a punch if he has to. He’d pull the man away but he doesn’t want you to get hurt. He’d beat the daylights out of this asshole but he doesn’t want you to witness that. You’re terrified already as it is; anything more might just break you further.

So Jungkook keeps his gaze on the man, hoping the threat would work somehow.

It does, as the man lets you go then raises his arms mockingly, as if to surrender. You step away immediately, finding your way towards Jungkook. Chi-won looks at the man next to you from head-to-toe, his attempt at intimidation.

“The boss, I assume?” Chi-won scoffs. “That’s cheap, even for you.”

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that,” Jungkook fumes, trying his hardest to keep himself together and not make this worse.

“Women who are that lonely and that desperate for sex would do anything and use anyone to get what they want and feel better about themselves,” Chi-won shrugs. “I’m just saying I’m not surprised.”

The insult is unfounded. You know at this point, he’s just trying to say anything to provoke Jungkook and put you down in the process. Somehow you’ve learned how to deal with men like this.

“Yeah, I was so desperate that I ended up settling for a low-life like you,” you scoff, hoping the brave facade holds up. “You weren’t even that good. I could only fake it for so long.”

And this is what does it for him, as Chi-won’s face distorts in anger, and while you know your words provoked him, you wanted to show that you could regain your control, and he’s the one who now breaks because of it.

“Fucking slut,” he yells, charging towards you.

But Jungkook charges back, pushing Chi-won towards the wall and making sure he stays there. The anger on Jungkook’s face is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, yet despite this side of him that you’re now witnessing, you can’t help but feel emotional at his presence. If it wasn’t for him, you don’t know what would’ve happened; you don’t know where you’d pull the strength to stand up for yourself.

“You say anything else and I swear, getting fired is gonna be the least of your worries,” Jungkook huffs. “Because this boss knows your manager. This boss knows the police chief at the station not far away. You hurt her and you’re gonna pay for this. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

Chi-won slowly realizes that those aren’t empty words, as he visibly starts to look worried. There’s not much he can do now. You doubt he can overpower Jungkook despite his size. You also know Chi-won doesn’t have much, and losing his job could make him lose everything. And that scares you, too.

“Jungkook, it’s okay. Just let him go,” you plead, tugging his arm to pull him away. You know how much worse it could get if anything else happens. You know that Jungkook is very much capable of inflicting physical pain, and you don’t want blood on his hands because of you. “Let’s just go back inside.”

Jungkook looks at you, the fear clearly still evident - your eyes are glassy and empty, your hand on his arm is shaking, and your voice is cracking. Whatever courage you had at answering back earlier is slowly dissipating, and all Jungkook wants is to get you away from all this.

“I’m fine, Jungkook. He’s just angry and I don’t blame him,” you insist.

All lies, really. You wish the worst for Chi-won, but you know it won’t do you nor Jungkook any good if you both go down this path.

Your eyes plead for him to take your lead this time and he sees it, he sees you, and you see his tiniest of nods before turning to Chi-won.

“Get out of here and call it a night before I do anything else to you.”

Chi-won, who’s clearly still furious, starts walking away. But in his effort to regain the control you took from him, he turns to you before heading back inside.

“You’re really fucking good at that, you know?” He says to you. “Fuck the man you know wants you and then just drop him when you get bored or when you find the next guy who can pleasure you without the commitment you obviously desperately want. You’ll always be miserable whatever you do.”

You will the tears not to fall as the words hit you where it hurts. They’re things you’ve heard not long ago, just in a different variation, and by another man who had the same fate as Chi-won - left by you because you couldn’t give them what they wanted. Maybe you’re too honest when you’re drunk, maybe that’s when the yearning for something meaningful and more permanent comes out, and maybe that’s when they thought they could be what you wanted.

But you’ve always known from the beginning that they couldn’t give you what you desired, and you always hoped you’d cut the cord before they started to want more. Turns out your timing is just as bad as your judgment.

You let them have the final say, though. And then you let them walk away. You feel like it’s climactic for them, liberating even, to be able to tell the person who hurt them that she’s selfish and she doesn’t deserve happiness. You suppose it just proves that they didn’t really feel much; perhaps your read on people isn’t that terrible after all.

You manage to rein all the emotions in and look at Jungkook who remains standing next to you. His fist is still clenched and you see the anger in his eyes. You’ve never seen him like this, not even when Hajoon threatened him. This is the first time you thought he could really hurt someone, and he would’ve done it on your defense.

“We should go back to dinner,” you finally say. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”

Jungkook turns to you, the fear still evident in your eyes but he can see you trying, he can see you try to be brave and bury all that pain in for his sake.

“I’m not letting you go back in there,” he responds, his tone hard and firm. “I’m not letting you anywhere near that man again.”

You don’t insist this time. You don’t want to be anywhere near Chi-won, either. So you just nod and wait for Mr. Ri to arrive after he was called to come to you with the car. Jungkook is about to instruct the older man to go inside and send his apologies to the organizers but you tell Jungkook it should be him. You manage to convince him to properly send them off and pay the bill and while initially unwilling, he finally goes, giving Mr. Ri strict orders not to leave you alone.

Mr. Ri breaks at the pained look on your face - an uncommon sight for him, and one that hurts him. It’s not the first time though, and that just makes it worse.

“Stay strong, okay?” He says, despite not knowing what happened. “You have people around to protect you, to keep you safe. You know that.”

You nod in acknowledgement, as you’re unable to get any word out. But you see the pain in his eyes, too, and for all the years that you’ve known him, the comfort in them always comes.

Jungkook returns and informs you that the organizers will be leaving soon. He asks you if it’s okay if he drives you home and you say that it is. Even if he’s just seen you be humiliated, somehow it’s him you want to be with you as you try to process what happened. You know it’ll ease his mind as well, and you don’t want him to worry any more than he already is.

You both say goodbye to Mr. Ri and then enter the car, with you feeling a little odd to be sitting in the passenger seat with Jungkook next to you. But you settle in, your body moving on its own; it feels quite foreign to you, with your mind in a haze and your nails engraving their marks on your palms, as if by some miracle it could erase what happened tonight from your memory.

But you doubt anything would.

“His shift ends soon and I don’t want to take you home right away, just in case he follows,” Jungkook says.

You look at him questioningly and he immediately knows what you’re thinking.

“I know the manager and I asked him,” he explains as he starts driving away. “But don’t worry, I didn’t say anything. And that bastard didn’t see me. He avoided me and stayed in the kitchen the whole time I was there, as if he wasn’t serving our table the whole evening. I should’ve picked up that he was trying to get near you. I… I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time.”

You still came for me, you want to say. It’s the thought that keeps swimming in your mind. You don’t know how long you were gone for but he could’ve called; he chose to go out and look for you instead.

It’s as if he knows what you’re thinking, as he says that he noticed you were away longer than he expected.

“It just felt odd. You would’ve messaged me if something was up,” he reasons. “I guess I noticed earlier that he kept coming to our table for no reason but I didn’t pay it any mind. But then another server brought the dessert. I asked where he was and the guy said he went outside without any explanation, and I just had a weird feeling. I should’ve come sooner, ___.”

You want to say that he doesn’t have to apologize, that things could’ve been worse if he hadn’t come, that you owe him your life that he did but you’re feeling too much to even manage a word out.

At the stoplight, he turns to you and sees the half-moons embedded on your skin. He sees the glassy eyes and the trembling lips. He wants nothing more than to shield you from all this, to take you somewhere where you’re safe and where no one can hurt you. He didn’t think that seeing you like this would make him feel so powerless, because much as he can make that man’s life miserable if you let him, what he can’t do is take your pain away. What he doesn’t know how to do is comfort you.

“I’ll drive you around first, is that okay?”

You nod, turning to your right to watch the city pass you by. It’s a breeze driving down the bridge as lights illuminate the Han River. The moon’s reflected on it, too, but you don’t feel any joy nor calmness. All you feel is this heavy burden of disgust and fear and shame and loneliness and anger.

You quickly wipe the tear that falls, hoping that Jungkook doesn’t see. Your eyes remain glued outside, and you watch the buildings slowly disappear, replaced by little cafes and stores closing shop. It’s a familiar street, one you’ve passed by on some mornings, and you appreciate the familiarity.

The car stops but you don’t look away from the window, afraid that seeing the worry on Jungkook’s face will make you break down.

“We’re at a neighborhood park near your place,” he says. “I’ll just be outside, just in case you need time alone. You can put the radio on blast. You can honk if you need me, or you can come out if you want to. I’m just here.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. He just exits the car and walks towards the bench that overlooks the playground. You put the music on loudly, and perhaps just as he expected you to do, you cry. And you cry hard.

You shut your eyes from the pain. It forces you to relive that moment but you do your best to crumple it like paper and then burn it from your memory. You know the burned pieces and the smoke will stay - an alley will trigger you, the scent of cooking oil and cheap cologne will make you gag. It’s how it is with painful memories - they burn you but there’s not much you can do to put out the fire. And when it’s gone, it’s not over. The scars remind you it happened. And then they urge you to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

You don’t know how long it takes for you to cry out all the tears. It feels like they won’t end - they’re the words you couldn’t say earlier, and the words that would haunt you for longer. But they eventually stop falling, and you’re exhausted by the time they do. You have new crescents on your palms, too, and those may go away but you know they’re the only things that will. Everything else will be invisible, and that makes it a harder burden to carry.

Outside, Jungkook glances at the car to make sure you’re still there. He doesn’t think there’s any danger now; he doubts that man got to follow you here, too. But with what happened earlier, there’s this perpetual worry about anything that harms you, and he doesn’t want for there to be even a single second where you’re afraid, where you’re looking over your shoulder in fear, and where you think you’re everything that man said you are.

He can try to keep you safe. He can try to lift you up. But when it’s about trying to forget, trying to move on, he knows there’s not much he can do. He knows a bit about painful experiences and memories that won't leave him. He’s done his best to hide those away, kept in the deepest nooks of his being that’s caused him to conceal parts of himself as well. It’s not easy to do but he does it; all these years later, he doesn’t know how not to.

But then there’s you and somehow, those parts of him that he’s kept hidden come out. Maybe it’s those pieces that will help comfort you, that will help protect you, that will help keep you safe. He’s not sure but if they are, maybe it’s not such a bad thing for them to resurface, if it means you won’t be scared or hurt or alone.

His gaze flits back to the playground. He glances at your direction every few minutes. He wants to respect your privacy, at least as much as what his car and the radio on blast could give. He hopes that all the crying could help ease your pain somehow. He also hopes he’s one person who could.

Jungkook hears the door open and he turns to see you slowly get out. He remains in his seat and waits to see where you go. A minute later, you’re sitting on the bench next to him, your breathing slowed down now, and your hands are less shaky than earlier. Your eyes are still glassy, and he wishes he could wipe the tears away should they fall, but he knows it’s not something he can do.

Both of you sit in silence as you watch the moon dance over the field of grass. It’s peaceful here at this time of the night. It’s not a place you expected him to take you but you’re glad that he did.

You didn’t grow up going to parks because your mother rarely had time to take you; no one could accompany you either. When you moved to Busan during your pre-teen years, you felt you’d outgrown it even if Jimin and Soomin would invite you. There were always so many kids around and you didn’t know how to talk to them or to play with them so you always stayed in your own spot, near the tree where you could watch them run about.

“I didn’t know where to take you but, uh, I loved playing in the playground when I was a kid,” Jungkook bursts through your thoughts. “It somehow always made me feel safe.”

“Did you like going to parks, too?” You ask, finally finding your voice, visibly surprising him.

“Not really. I wasn’t exactly fond of people even as a child,” he softly chuckles, earning him a small smile. “And well, my older brother liked to tease me in front of his friends when we’d play so I would ask to go late in the afternoon once the kids have left. My father picked up on it so he built a playground just for me in our backyard. It was really nice. I’d spend all day there when I was younger.”

A little Jungkook coming down the slide, climbing up the rock wall, and playing in the seesaw looks so wholesome. You wonder if he squealed while on the swing like kids usually do. Maybe. It’s nice to imagine a version of him that’s joyful and free. You wonder when the last time he felt that way was.

You also wonder what has made him share something that feels so personal to him with you. You’re thinking maybe it’s to make you feel comfortable or to ease your nerves; maybe it’s to tell you that unlike Chi-won, he’s not there to threaten you. Maybe Jungkook wants to tell you that he’s someone you can trust, that despite what you are to each other, at this moment, he can be a friend.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you manage to say. “Thank you for coming to find me and keeping him away from me. He… he was someone I used to see and I ended things and I thought we were okay. I hadn’t seen him in a while and—”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” he says softly. “I understand that it’s difficult and reliving it might just make you more scared and upset.“

“But I… I need to say it, at least just this once,” you stammer. “Just so it won’t stay in my head like some made-up reality until I’m convinced it didn’t really happen. Because it did.”

He turns to you, his eyes the most sympathetic you’ve seen them, and he nods.

So you tell him - how Chi-won kept staring at you as you ate, how he pulled you towards him and then caged you against the wall.

“He was too close and I could… smell him, as if he wanted me to remember his scent, and that he didn’t want me to ever forget it,” you say.

Your tears fall slowly this time. Your voice cracks and your nails dig into your skin again. It feels so heavy, that even as you try to expend the negative energy, it’s still there. As if the memory itself is tangible, like a sack of sand filling you from inside and it makes you unable to breathe.

But the sight of Jungkook’s trembling hands catches your attention, and you turn to him - his jaws tight and his eyes, tense and deep.

“I’m so angry for you,” he heaves, his fists clenching now. He still wants to wipe your tears but he also wants to go back to the restaurant and finally punch that man’s face. “You should file a case. You have all the grounds for that. I can get him fired and he can lose everything.”

“The law and society in general don’t favor us, Jungkook. I don’t have bruises or anything; that’s what they look for. They think that all harm done only leaves visible marks,” you sigh, knowing that there’s not much you can do. “There’s no other witness but you and that itself… might not look good. If I do file a case, he’ll just bring up our past, my past, and taint my reputation. That’ll just ruin me and everything I worked hard for will be for nothing.”

“But you can’t just let him get away with this, ___,” he insists, feeling unusually emotional now. “He hurt you. And what if he does it again? Telling the police can keep him away. I’ll make sure of that.”

The urgency in his voice is something new to you. But you also know he’s right. Jungkook’s family has connections that run deep. He can very well seek revenge for you for all he wants but he wants your permission, he wants to know it’s what you want.

“I… I can’t risk it,” you say. “If by some miracle the case is successful, he’ll just spend a few months in jail or do community service then he’ll be out. He would lose more and I would be the cause of all that. And what if he tries to get revenge? How do I win?”

At his silence, you continue. “That’s right, I can’t.”

“But… don’t you want to fight?” He asks, almost desperately. His tone is low, as if he’s trying to convince himself that fighting back is the answer. “Don’t you want to make sure that he won’t do it again to you?”

“I do, but what if I lose everything in the process, what then?” You counter. “I… I’m not strong enough for that, Jungkook. That’s not a battle I can fight, not when I’m alone here. Not when I’m also just trying to get by.”

You look back at his eyes, helpless and apologetic now, and at this time, this companionship is what you need. It’s as if he’s telling you with them that you may think you’re on your own but you aren’t. Even as you shiver from within, you don’t feel so alone with him next to you.

“I… I was seeing him for a year but things weren’t serious. He probably just wanted to scare me, to assert control because he lacks it in other aspects of his life. Cowards do that, I guess,” you shrug, trying to reason to yourself how someone you knew fairly well could do something like that to you.

People change, you suppose. Or maybe he’s always been like that; it takes a while sometimes for the demons to come out.

“But cowards don’t have a right to do that,” Jungkook reasons. “They don’t deserve to just walk away and not deal with the consequences.”

“They don’t. But I don’t deserve to suffer more,” you point out. “The things he said… that’s probably enough revenge on his end, I guess. If he wanted to hurt me, well then, he did.”

There’s an emptiness in your eyes that Jungkook sees. There’s a tinge of submission, as if you accept the pain even if you don’t think you deserve it. And maybe that’s why you’re choosing to fight this battle this way. We can’t do anything about how people hurt us, but we choose how much more we let them do it.

“Prove him wrong, then,” Jungkook says. “He doesn’t get to tell you that you’ll be miserable your whole life. So chase what makes you happy. And let yourself be loved.”

It’s permission that he doesn’t have a right to grant, but he supposes that if there’s any way you can defeat that man’s voice in your head, it’s by searching for the things you want and fighting to keep them.

“One day,” you manage to smile at him. “I’ll do those one day.”

It’s like a promise you’re making to him just as you make it to yourself. Jungkook can’t think right now what that would mean. Finding your happiness could lead you anywhere; it sure could lead you away from him.

“So what happens now?” He asks, hoping there’s a way he could help you get through this.

“I continue living my life and not let this define me,” you shrug, half believing in the power of just pushing through it. “I’ll probably be anxious and paranoid for a while but this is what I can do for now. I’ll just be careful and… learn how to deal with all this one day at a time, I guess.”

“And I’ll have Mr. Ri drive you home every night, at least for these next few weeks. Do you need to move houses?”

“Chi-won doesn’t actually know where I live. I never let him come over. I don’t really like having people in my house.”

Jungkook hums to himself. He isn’t that different from you, it seems. But he takes your word for it, not wanting to impose. There are so many things he wants to do, like ruin that man’s life because things like that can’t go unpunished but he trusts you. At the end of the day, it’s your call, and he respects whatever you decide. He’ll just do what he can to protect you, even if he’ll be worried like hell from here on out, an emotion he’s slowly accepting, knowing what that implies.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all that,” you say amidst the silence. “And that you have to deal with this now. I don’t… I don’t want you to think that I’m weak and that I don’t stand up for myself.”

“You know you have nothing to apologize for,” he shakes his head. “And not fighting back doesn’t make you weak. I guess staying right where you are is a way of fighting, too.”

“I have people around… somehow,” you comfort yourself. “I’m gonna be fine. I have to believe I will.”

Jungkook nods and manages a smile. At this point, he thinks all he can give you is support and encouragement. He’ll continue to do what he can to keep you safe without disregarding your requests, but staying right where he is with you might just be another way to do that.

“Do you want to pass by somewhere before heading home?” He asks, knowing it’s getting quite late. “A restaurant to grab a drink or something? You didn’t get to have dessert so maybe a cafe?”

“A convenience store is fine,” you smile, knowing the treats that would make you feel better.

Jungkook chuckles, as it’s a place he didn’t really expect you’d want to go to after an experience like the one you just had. But it’s you and he should be used to you surprising him, so he nods and gestures towards the car.

It takes five minutes for you to get there and he looks around and asks what you want to have.

“A cup noodle,” you answer, walking towards the aisle where they’re shelved. “Do you want some? I mean, you eat these things, right?”

“Of course I do,” he scowls at you, picking up one himself. “I just… don’t eat it at a convenience store.”

“Because you don’t go to one?”

“I do. I’m not a spoiled brat who doesn’t know how to do ordinary people things.”

“You mean commoner things,” you raise an eyebrow. “Or plebeian activities. Or non-heir stuff.”

“Whatever. I won’t even defend myself to you,” he huffs, giving in because seeing you amused is a welcome sight.

“It’s okay. I’m not judging you,” you teasingly smile. “I’m just… laughing at you in my mind.”

You walk towards another aisle and leave him with a smile he’s glad to be making now. He follows and watches you pick up a few more things before you head to the counter where he manages to bring out his card first and pay.

“That's all I can do,” he shrugs after you thank him.

“You’re doing so much for me already,” you assure him. “Taking me somewhere so I could cry, making sure I get home safe… staying with me.”

“That’s not even enough to—”

“You don’t know how to accept gratitude, do you?” You ask as you blow on your noodles. “I notice how you brush it off when someone thanks you.”

“Not used to hearing it, I guess,” he shrugs, not thinking it was something you’d pick up, although there’s no lie.

It’s always been hard for him to say things - that he’s sorry, that he’s thankful, that it’s okay. You, of all people, are the one pointing that out.

“You should be. Because I’ll say it again.” You turn to him and meet his eyes. “Thank you, Jungkook. I thought I’d just go through this alone but I’m not. And that’s… that’s something I’m not used to.”

“You should be,” he repeats your words. “There are some things you shouldn’t be going through on your own. So if there’s anything else you need, you let me know, okay?”

There’s sincerity in his voice as he speaks. You’re used to the low or stern or commanding tone, not this soft and worried one. But it’s the comfort you didn’t know you needed. After spending all that time earlier crying and feeling afraid, being with Jungkook in this bright-lit convenience store is the unexpected warmth that you’re glad you let him give you.

“I will,” you smile. “You know, this is the longest I’ve spoken informally to you. It feels a little weird.”

He laughs as he gets to the same realization. But for him, it almost feels natural.

“It would be weirder if you spoke formally after all that,” he says. “Like I said, if it isn’t about work then I don’t mind.”

You hum in response, not wanting to dwell on the implication. You’re with him after-hours, at a convenience store - that he personally drove you to - where you’re both having cup noodles and soda. This ironically feels more intimate than being in bed with some guy.

You decide to have your dessert, which is really just chocopie, and you mentally curse Chi-won for making you miss the sweet dishes from dinner. But still, you know this one could easily cheer you up. You give one to Jungkook, and his amused tone catches your attention.

“Oh wow, I haven’t had one of these in years,” he says, eating it one bite. “Mother used to give this to me all the time when I was a kid because her best friend owned the company that makes them. There was a time I’d have it as dessert after every meal.”

“Seriously?” You giggle. “That is so weird. This is my favorite. My mom would always buy this for me. When she worked at a school in Busan, she would give it as a treat while I waited for her at the library. That would just always make my day.”

“Hmm, it’s a good snack,” he says, smiling as he takes another piece that you offer and recalls how he used to have this everyday. “So she’d pick you up at the library? Was that your favorite place at school?”

“Hmm, not really, but it reminded me of the one I used to go to,” you reply. “When we lived in Seoul when I was young, there was this family-run library for children in the neighborhood. It was very cozy, with lots of soft chairs and reading nooks on the walls. There were these huge stuffed toys that you could lie on while reading so it felt like someone was hugging you. It had warm lights, not like those usual bright ones. There was this mural of the characters from the books they had,” you narrate, smiling as you remember the days you spent there.

“Mom would pick me up from school during her lunch break then drop me off at the library where her friend volunteered at and I’d wait until she got off work. When we moved to Busan, I kept looking for it. The one at the school wasn’t the same so I didn’t enjoy it as much, but there was nowhere else to go. Eventually I just got used to it, but the chocopie always made the wait worth it.”

It’s the most you’ve ever told him about yourself and you’re surprised at how easy it was for you to do that. He did tell you a little bit about his childhood earlier though, and you’d like to think it’s your way of returning that kind of vulnerability; a story for a story, a piece of your childhood for a snapshot of his.

You look at him and the small smile on his face. Perhaps he’s thinking the same.

“So you like reading books, then?”

“Not really, actually,” you say, earning you a confused look. “I read all the picture books they had. Those are what I liked. And they had these coloring books and paper dolls and I’d spend hours just working on those. Being there made me feel safe, too; it was like my playground, you know?”

“It’s good you had that, then. Do you still visit that place? The one in your old neighborhood?”

“It shut down years ago, sometime before I returned to Seoul to work,” you sigh. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to it. The couple who ran it passed away and no one was interested in continuing it because it wasn’t profitable. But the community center nearby has a small library and I go there sometimes, when I’m really upset.”

“And read picture books?” He chuckles.

“Yes, actually,” you smile. “Memories are powerful and we need to let the good ones win. My childhood wasn’t the greatest but I felt like I was in a different world whenever I was in a library so being in one, even as a grown up, reminds me that there are still places where I’m welcome, where I can feel safe, you know? It reminds me that the world hasn’t completely turned dark. I’ve got to hold onto those to not lose myself.”

“That’s one way of putting it. I… I don’t think I’ve been to a playground in years before today. Other than the one that father built in the backyard at least. And I rarely even see it because I’m rarely there. I guess I just…. Let myself get lost.”

“Well, I hope going to one earlier somehow made you find yourself. Or at least reminded you of those good old days, the days when you felt free and safe and happy.”

Jungkook thinks about what he’d felt earlier, that much as being in a playground again brought him back in time, all he kept thinking about was you - alone in that car while you let all your emotions out. He wanted to comfort you but he didn’t know how, and he thinks that maybe it isn’t about finding himself but learning what he’s capable of, and that after all these years, maybe he’s still capable of caring for another person, and maybe that person is you.

“It did,” he hums, meeting your eyes.

There’s more light in them this time and he wishes it would stay this way. He’d seen you cry months ago and it wasn’t a good feeling, especially because you’d done so because of him. This time, he feels powerless, and he doesn’t know which is worse.

He gets to be with you now though. Perhaps that’s the difference.

You start cleaning up and it’s his signal for both of you to head out.

It takes him ten minutes to drive to your place and a small part of you doesn’t want to leave. Even in the silence, you felt calm, something that you hadn’t expected to feel around him, considering his default tense disposition and usual detachment. But there’s something about his presence, about him just being there - he’s not trying too hard to comfort you, he’s not imposing, he’s also not invalidating your feelings. What matters is you’re not alone, and other than him making that effort, it’s also about you, allowing him to do that, something you don’t always do as well.

“Thank you again,” you say once the car has stopped.

He nods in acknowledgment then turns to you. “It might be best if you take a leave tomorrow, and by that I mean staying home for safety reasons.”

A day to just process everything isn’t such a bad idea, so you agree.

“If it’s not too much for your friends, maybe they could drive up here so they can be with you. Having people around you that you trust might help in making you feel better.”

“I’ll ask them. I don’t want them to worry but I do need them. So thanks, Jungkook. I appreciate it.”

You exit the car and turn around to wave him goodbye. He smiles as you do, and it’s a sight that helps you sleep later that night - after the long bath and another crying session, after the phone call with your friends who promised to be here in the morning, after the time you spend just hugging your pillow, hoping that you’d stop being scared.

But thinking of Jungkook now makes you feel better and you realize the change again - thinking about him now makes you a little braver.

You spend that weekend wrapped up in your best friends’ arms. They arrived on Friday morning with some pork bone soup and seafood that they cooked for lunch and dinner. In the middle of the day, Jungkook texted you and asked how you were doing, and you couldn’t hide the smile on your face, which prompted a conversation about your little crush that you didn’t expect to get tense, with Jimin stating that while Jungkook did help you, being attracted to your boss is complicated and would lead to heartbreak.

You insisted that it was harmless - a half lie, as you hadn’t thought much about it in that sense - and that it’s not something you plan on nurturing. You’re gonna leave the company one day anyway, and you won’t have to deal with him after.

The succeeding days were spent just at home, with you feeling lighter, until Sunday evening when they had to leave, and you felt a little lonely again.

You try to let that feeling go once you enter Jungkook’s penthouse on Monday morning, knowing that with a day off, you’ll have a lot to make up for and you can’t let anything distract you from your tasks.

That includes the man himself, as he exits his home gym in sweatpants and a dri-fit shirt, the sweat sticking to his body that’s got his chest accentuated. His hair is damp and he’s panting; it’s not exactly the sight you wanted to be greeted with, considering all the thoughts in your head these past few days. You’re reminded that just last week, you’d tried to keep your distance and now, he’s making it incredibly hard for you to do that.

“Hey, how do you feel?” He asks as he takes the glass of water you set for him. “Did you get proper rest?”

“Yes, I did, Mr. Jeon,” you reply.

“Hmm, we’re back to that again, huh?”

It takes you a while but you pick up that he’s referring to the formalities.

“I’m back on the clock, sir,” you point out. “You are my boss and I need to address you accordingly.”

It’s not a reminder he wanted, given how he’s been worried sick about you since Thursday night. Even an hour of boxing after he got home that evening couldn’t rid him of his anger. He wished he’d noticed how uncomfortable you were at the restaurant; he’s been paying attention to you anyway but he just got so caught up with impressing the festival organizers that he missed out on the signs. If he’d noticed, he would’ve gotten to you earlier and things wouldn’t have escalated.

He had to control himself from punching that man’s face the moment he saw how close he was to you. Your plea of letting him go was the only thing that kept Jungkook from ruining that man’s life because he really could. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand it - people like that need to be punished, but it’s people like you who remind him that fighting takes different forms, and you’re the only one who can define what that means.

But it also doesn’t mean that he can’t get angry for you and he’ll probably feel that for a while. Knowing how you are, he knows you wouldn’t want him to pity you either, so he’ll be what he can be, and that’s someone whom you feel safe around. Regardless, maybe the reminder of your roles in each other’s lives is necessary; it’s what he needs to keep himself from doing more, or wanting to be more.

Jungkook finally acknowledges your statement with a nod and then heads to the bathroom for his shower. Shortly after, you walk towards his closet and prepare his outfits for the week. He meets you in the dining room once he’s dressed, and like clockwork, you fix his tie and his suit.

The effect is minimal but somehow, you’ve found comfort in the routine. What once was a tense and nerve-wracking act is now something automatic and essential for you. In a way, it reinforces your place in his life, but the short distance reminds you that he may be faraway or detached in some aspects but physically, he’s so close. It’s a double-edged sword, really. Some days it’s good, some days it isn’t. Today, it’s the former, and as you look up and meet his eyes, the softness in them says he thinks the same.

You go over your usual with him while munching on some pastries that Mr. Ri was ordered to buy and bring up. The ride to the office is filled with discussions on the upcoming year-end events. When you arrive, you attend two straight meetings before having another one over lunch. You accompany Jungkook to a store opening located in one of their properties after that and it’s 4PM by the time you’re able to sit on your desk for more than 30 seconds. You’ve got two hours to finish what you can today but you find yourself spacing out every few minutes.

Perhaps it’s because it’s the first time since Friday that you’re on your own. Your best friends made sure not to leave you by yourself for those three days - Soomin held you while you slept and silently cried in her arms, and Jimin hugged you for much of the day. Their affection was what you badly needed, and now that you’re without it, somehow you feel incomplete and anxious and somewhat unstable.

Scenes are hazy in your mind. You’re at least thankful they’re not vivid anymore unlike a few nights ago, but the dim lights and the stench of the alley come to you without warning, and you suddenly freeze in panic. Your fingers tremble as you try to type away, your eyes unblinking as the tears coat them, and you feel sick to your stomach that you want to just be buried in the covers at this moment.

The door opening causes you to jerk in your seat and Jungkook stops mid-sentence to walk over to you.

“Hey, ___. You can go home,” he says. “It’s been a long day.”

“I… I don’t know if that’ll help,” you admit. “I don’t know if being alone is what I need.”

You go home to an empty apartment just like he does, he reminds himself. He knows what that’s like. It’s why he spends most weekends in the clubs where it’s loud and crowded; those somehow mask the emptiness that can get tiring when all he has is himself. Being on your own is good sometimes; sometimes it also isn’t.

But Jungkook doesn’t know what he can offer you. His presence isn’t something exactly enticing nor comforting; he wouldn’t wanna be with him, too, if he was in a similar position.

“Is there a way that your friends can spend another few days with you? What about your mother?” He asks.

“They have lives back home,” you sigh. “I… I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to force it if you aren’t,” he insists. “I may not know much but I know enough that these things take time. I…”

I wish I could do more for you, he wants to say.

“I don’t have anything urgent for today,” he says instead. “You can clock off now and Mr. Ri and I can take you home.”

“That’s not necessary,” you say immediately.

“I insist,” he replies. “At least for the next few days until we’re sure that you’re not in danger.”

You nod, not having the energy to reason with him. At least you don’t have to think about how to commute home without risking being too close to strangers.

You pack your things and get in the car, with Jungkook letting you bask in the mellow sounds of the radio while he doodles on his leather notebook. You’re tempted to ask him what he’s drawing just to add some more noise but you decide against it, choosing instead to close your eyes and force unpleasant images away from your mind so you can train yourself to do it this time.

It works. Except, it’s the smile of the man next to you that you see, and when you open your eyes, it’s the same thing that greets you.

He chuckles when you look around and realize that you’re home.

“I was trying to wake you but you wouldn’t budge,” he explains. “Are you just tired or you haven’t been sleeping well?”

“Oh, I just kept waking up last night. I guess that’s why. I’m sorry for making you wait.”

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “Just try to get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nod and exit the car, feeling out of sorts even as you enter your apartment and know you’re safe inside. You nibble on some leftover pizza and try to entertain yourself with the variety shows on TV but you end up spacing out. You curl in bed, trying as much to feel comfort from your pillow that lays stiff next to you.

You’re not big on physical affection, and most days you’re glad you aren’t because you don’t get any of it anyway, but tonight, it’s what you need. Tonight, you just want that warmth, you want a body to curl into and arms to pull you close. You want hands to caress you and soft lips to plant kisses on the places that hurt. You want to hear soft laughter and random musings and plans for the next day.

The vision ends when you realize that you haven’t experienced much of that before. There were moments during the months you spent with the men you’ve dated, but the feeling of safety was lacking, the warmth wasn’t warm enough, and the desire wasn’t overwhelming. You realize that it wasn’t intimacy you feared; losing it or finding out it wasn’t enough is what you were afraid of, and it’s why you always pulled away. No one ever seemed worth it to try or to stay a little longer for.

You sigh to yourself as you will the tears not to fall. The loneliness can get to you sometimes, especially on days when there’s a kind of pain that’s hard to talk about and all you need is comfortable silence and understanding without words. But you try to push through. You’ve been on your own for so long anyway. Even when you had someone, you still came home to an empty apartment and you still felt like it was enough when it was just you around.

You’re unsure if the desire for something more is just because of what you experienced, if the forced closeness and Chi-won’s burning touch hurt you too much or if you’ve been wanting that intimacy all along. Or if someone’s made you realize that you’re ready for it, that it’s actually worth it.

You manage to fall asleep and drag yourself off the bed to head to Jungkook’s apartment the next day. You drop him off at a restaurant for a breakfast meeting before going to the office where you get to work. It’s a busy day that has you meeting with different departments and coordinating with the organizing teams for the upcoming end-of-year events.

It’s mid-afternoon when you decide to go to the outdoor garden just right off the elevators, surprised to find Jungkook standing by the railings. Dressed in a dark gray suit, he’s got his hands in his pockets while he looks out at the busy streets, and you wonder what goes on in his mind when he looks at views like this.

The sound of the door closing catches his attention, and he turns around, surprised as well to see you here.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Yes, I just needed a breather.”

“Am I giving you too much work again?” He shakes his head, finding humor in it now after you pointed out one time how he once gave you so many things to do.

“It’s part of the job, Mr. Jeon. I’ve accepted that now,” you giggle, walking towards where he is then standing some feet away. “But it’s been a busy day and I just needed some air.”

“You can also take a longer break if that’s what you need.”

“I’m okay,” you assure him. “The busyness helps. I’ll get tired and hopefully fall asleep easily and then do it all again tomorrow and the next day.”

It’s a strategy Jungkook knows well because it’s something he does. Being a perfectionist helps because then, he can work himself to the bone without realizing it until he’s entered his apartment. One glass of whiskey and then he’s falling asleep on the couch.

Weekends are tough, which is why partying and hooking up is his go-to. His best friends have asked him a few times what he’s striving towards, what he’s looking forward to and he couldn’t answer. At one point he stopped wondering, but now he wonders about you.

“What do you look forward to, then?” He asks.

“Vacation, I guess,” you shrug. “I get to be with my friends and family but then that flies too quickly then I’m back to this routine. So maybe… I look forward to the day when I start savoring the moment, when I start enjoying what’s in front of me, when I start… feeling less alone.”

The last words come out subconsciously, prompting you to turn away out of shame. It’s not an easy thing to admit. You wanted this anyway. You chose to leave home to pay back a debt and then decided to stay because you wanted to prove yourself. You chose to not commit to anyone because the pain of loneliness is much easier to bear than the pain of losing someone. This is on you, and you deal with the consequences everyday.

Jungkook doesn’t look confused nor curious. There’s a look in his eyes that you catch before his gaze returns to the streets below. It’s understanding; you realize he knows exactly what you’re talking about. And perhaps he’s on the same boat - letting life just pass him by despite the craziness of it all, perhaps wondering when he’ll stop to smell the roses or watch the sunset or listen to the birds. Maybe like you, he’s wondering when he’ll get to do those with a hand to hold and a body to curl into.

The silence is cut short when you’re alerted that Jungkook’s meeting with the Arts Center project teams starts in 15 minutes. You remind him about it then you both head out and go to your desks to prepare. You’re seated on your chair when you look inside his room, meeting his eyes as he looks outside towards you. There’s a small smile on his face that gives you comfort. It’s soft and assuring, and it’s definitely what you need.

Maybe you can start with this, you think, as he nods at you then meets you at your desk to walk towards the conference room. Maybe these are the things you can start savoring before the day comes that you have to leave this place - these moments of quiet assurance, of understanding, of subtle comfort that tells you that despite the walls between you, he’ll be looking out for you even from afar.

The weeks fly by like a blur.

The Thursday after the incident, Jungkook informed you that he got word from the restaurant manager that Chi-won returned to his home in Mokpo to stay with his parents. The next day, you took the train home to Daegu to be with your mom. She hugged you that night as you cried to her, feeling the strength that she’s had all these years, knowing that you have to be just like her and that this time, you have to be strong for her and for yourself.

Spending time with her, Min-woo, and the girls was rejuvenating, and they promised to visit you in Seoul more regularly. They were in your apartment two weekends after, and it truly felt like you’ve become the family you’ve always wanted to have.

Work continued to be hectic as the year-end activities approached. The busyness definitely helped in moving past what you experienced, allowing you to detach from the memories. You gained the strength to keep fighting the way you wanted, and the people around you continued to be supportive and respectful.

Despite all that went on, you managed in organizing the events while also attending to some that Jungkook was invited to.

The first one was organized by the VP’s Office for the partners of projects that it managed, with the other departments attending as well. It was well-organized, and CEO Jeon himself expressed his satisfaction with how the event came together. Jungkook’s speech was impressive. He ran it with you multiple times and he was able to shake off the anxiety by the time he got to the stage. His eloquence enraptured you; so did the way he looked in another Kim Taehyung-customized textured black suit that had you constantly internally smacking yourself because of all the times that Yoongi caught you staring. You were in full denial about your little crush but knowing your friend, he probably had you figured out, and he’d been kind enough not to push it.

The next event was a big one, as the company hosts an annual fellowship dinner for all its partners, which you had a big role in organizing. A few of you were housed in the serviced apartment building near the office leading up to it, as per Jungkook’s instructions, given that he didn’t want any of you commuting or driving home late at night. You remember how he’d said that he couldn’t risk any of his staff’s safety so casually, and you didn’t think he could be more attractive than that moment. Until, of course, when he showed up in his charcoal suit and parted hair, confidently entertaining the guests and delivering another impressive message. You snuck in a few looks later in the evening as he intently watched a ballad performer on stage, his legs crossed as he drank the flute of champagne and licked the remnants of it on his lips, causing your throat to dry up and promise yourself that you’ll get rid of this crush soon enough.

It doesn’t happen, as the final event of the year rolls around. The fellowship dinner this time is with all the staff, including some from the Southeast Asian office. Jungkook goes for a cream-colored suit this time, a light and clean look that makes him look fresh yet sophisticated. You managed to be professional every time he called for you, and you suppose it’s all the stress getting to you, but being near him made you a little anxious - there was a bit of giddiness that you didn’t want to show, but he somehow also calmed you down. The fact that he kept offering you water and making sure you had something to eat didn’t help. You blurted out that you didn’t expect him to be as thoughtful as he was, and when he said that neither did he but that you brought out that side of him after the incident at the restaurant, you had to keep your cool and act unbothered. He looked shy after, and you suppose that he didn’t mean to say it. But he did, and the words kept you up for the nights after.

You know you’re entering prohibited territory at this point and you wish there’s a way out before you get deep into the woods. You let Soomin and Jimin remind you everyday that you can’t nurture the crush, that the attraction can’t be anything more, that there are serious implications if you did, and that you’re gonna have to get over this as soon as possible. It’s Yoongi who tells you to not overthink it, that the more you force yourself out, the harder it actually becomes.

“There are things you just let happen,” he’d said. “That’s how they eventually fall away.”

“That’s how they get worse, too,” you responded.

“They could go either way, but resisting often ends up hurting more.”

You decide to just let the wave take you along while you train yourself to savor the moments for what they are without giving meaning to them. A smile is just a smile, a look is just a look. You know you’ll be without them one day. Just a few more months until you leave the company, and you won’t have a reason to be around Jungkook anymore. At least before then, you can hold onto whatever memories you retain, and you can learn to look back at them with gratitude that during your hardest moments, he made you feel safe.

It’s now towards the end of December and it’s the Tuesday before Jungkook is set to leave for his three-week vacation tomorrow. He called for an early dinner with the team at his new favorite Italian restaurant, wanting to properly say goodbye before you’ll all be without him for a while.

“Savor it, it won't last long,” he teases. “The holidays will be over soon and then I’ll be back before you know it. So enjoy this time that I’m not around.”

“What do you mean, sir? We’ll obviously miss you!” Do-hyun exclaims. “Mostly the once-in-a-blue-moon lunch and dinner treats and the occasional funny remarks but yeah, we’ll definitely feel your absence around.”

Her exaggerated smile lets everyone know she’s teasing, even if you know deep down, she’s telling the truth. Jungkook’s come around these past months, spending a bit of time with each team member and learning their strengths and weaknesses, mentoring the young ones, and sending pastries or dessert during the most hectic days. He’s still serious most of the time and doesn’t join the occasional post-work dinner that Do-hyun guilt trips you into going. There’s always so much to do and his perfectionism has rubbed off on everyone else, but he has his moments. And you know the team appreciates his efforts, too.

“We’ll see. Maybe when I come back you guys will want another boss or something,” he baits.

“That was like, the first two months of you in your role, Mr. Jeon, but we’re over it,” Do-hyun admits, causing Manager Lee to panic.

He glares at her the way Chin-sun does, but you sit there giggling. Jungkook’s chuckling, too, unable to hide his amusement at the young one’s bluntness.

She apologizes but Jungkook brushes it off, saying those first months weren’t his best. You don’t miss the way he looks at you, though, and you’ve trained yourself to not think too much about it, the way you’ve trained yourself these past weeks to just accept his smiles and glances as they are.

“I also took you all here to thank you for this past half-year,” Jungkook continues. “It was tough. I was tough. And it was a big adjustment for everyone but you all showed how good you are as individuals and as a team and I… I needed that.”

“You led us very well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee assures him. “And tough love works sometimes.”

“I suppose it does, and it goes both ways,” Jungkook replies. “And so to thank you, I got you all a little Christmas gift, something you can enjoy when you go on your respective breaks.”

At his words, you distribute the letter envelopes to the team and they open them up, gasping in surprise and in obvious delight.

Jungkook instructed you last week to purchase two vouchers at a luxurious spa for each staff member, hoping that a bit of relaxation can help you all. You were speechless when he said which specific package he wanted, and even if you know the price is just change for him, it was still more than you expected.

“A body scrub, massage, facial, and high tea, on top of the use of their super fancy amenities?” Do-hyun enumerates, her eyes widening in awe. “That’s a full day of being luxurious and feeling rich! Mr. Jeon, this is amazing! I’m totally going by myself and going twice!”

You laugh at her antics, not surprised she’d go that route.

“This is so timely, sir,” Manager Lee says. “My wife and I are celebrating our 15th wedding anniversary next month. This is gonna be a good date.”

“And it’s my birthday in a few weeks,” Chin-sun adds. “This would be so lovely to do with my husband.”

“My girlfriend and I fought so I think she’ll forgive me after I take her with me,” Yohan says, earning him a few laughs.

“What about you, ___? Inviting anyone special?” Do-hyun asks.

“Yes, my mom,” you answer. “She’s visiting next week, then we’ll go home to Daegu for the holidays. I’m sure she’d love this.”

“Ugh, of course. Parents come first,” she sighs.

You laugh her comment and turn to Jungkook, thanking him again for the gift. He thanks you for organizing them, too, and the dinner proceeds with candid spa stories and what you’re all doing for the holidays.

Everyone heads home from the restaurant except for you and Jungkook who return to the office to run through last minute instructions and reminders before he flies in the morning.

You’ve got over a week before your own vacation starts where you’ll spend a few days in Wando, Min-woo’s hometown, but that also means needing to get a lot done before that, and then returning to backlogs after but you’ll worry about that next year. Right now, you’ve got documents that need Jungkook’s signatures and some memos you need him to approve.

It’s another hour until you finish, even if a big part of you doesn’t want him to go just yet. Three weeks feels so long when seeing him five times a week for 12 hours was your everyday these past six months. It’s gonna feel a little odd not having your morning routines and car rides. You remind yourself that you’re gonna have to start getting used to that, given that you’re gonna be letting it all go soon enough. Still, it doesn’t mean you won’t miss it. It doesn’t mean you won’t miss him.

“Have you packed everything, Mr. Jeon? Do you have enough coats? You can get pretty cold. What about all your documents? Did you—”

“Yes, I have,” he chuckles, finding it endearing how you’re speaking too fast and making sure he’s got everything ready.

It’s not your job since this is a personal trip but he supposes that lines have blurred a while back, and he won’t deny that he’s enjoying this bit, especially seeing you worry. He wonders if you’ll miss him, too, but he won’t risk asking you even just to tease.

“I’ve gone on trips before, ___. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Just making sure that things are okay. Because I’m definitely gonna be the one you’ll call if they aren’t.”

“Fair point,” he laughs. “But everything’s good. Hoseok has been bugging me and making sure as well. He doesn’t want anything to mess up this trip.”

“It’s really sweet that he insisted you join him and A-yeong,” you gush. “They love their winter trips and I love seeing all their photos afterwards. I can just imagine how beautiful these ones are gonna be.”

“Well, he says he misses me,” Jungkook shrugs. “I was away for a long time and frankly, we’re more colleagues here than family, so he insisted I go with them. But I also think they just want a photographer because the sights are obviously gonna be gorgeous and I happen to take pretty good photos, you know?”

“I wouldn’t argue against that,” you laugh. “Surely being the third-wheel photographer has its perks?”

“We’ll see. I’ll definitely take advantage.”

“I’m sure they’ll spoil you somehow,” you say. “And you get to enjoy the landscape and the fresh air and the northern lights. Those are definitely gonna look good in pictures.”

“I’ll make sure to take them, then. And show you,” he smiles. “But yeah, I’m looking forward to a different scenery.”

“Where would you have gone if they didn’t ask you to come?”

“Not sure. Maybe to Brazil with Tae and Seokjin. Or somewhere like Hong Kong; I went there last year on my own. This time is gonna be different.”

“And you’ll have companions. That would be nice.”

“It would. That’s different, too, but I’m sure it will be good.”

You think about Jungkook spending his break on his own in a foreign country, navigating it by himself, meeting people, being left alone in his own thoughts. Maybe an occasional companion for the night. Or every night. Perhaps drinking on a rooftop bar to welcome the new year. But just him and no one else. You wonder how lonely that might feel, and you’re glad that at least this time, he can be around people who truly care about him.

Jungkook thinks of how else he can keep you longer, knowing he’ll be without you for three weeks which for him, is an extremely long time.

“Remember to enjoy your time there, okay? Don’t think too much about work,” you pout, knowing he still will.

“___, I’ll be on vacation but I won’t be on a break. You know I’ll still expect updates until next week. I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Of course you will,” you tease. “I’ll make sure to keep you posted. I’ll send emails for approvals, maybe call if something urgent comes up.”

“You’re the only one allowed to bother me, about anything. Remember that.”

He says the words with such finality, as if there’s no way for you to resist. You wouldn’t anyway. Other than knowing that you’ll definitely be bugging him for approvals and such, you also would want to know how he’s doing, if he’s enjoying his time away and if he’s getting enough rest.

“I will,” you assure him. “So, uh. You should head out and get some sleep. It’s gonna be a long flight.”

He nods, knowing that he needs to let you go this time. He decides against offering to take you home - you’ve been insisting that it’s not necessary, and that you’ve been fine with your bus rides to your neighborhood in the evening. He doesn’t want to sound desperate so he finally says goodbye.

He lingers, as he doesn’t move for a good half minute and just stands there by your desk, giving you a look to express things that he can’t ever say.

“Goodbye, Jungkook. Take care of yourself out there,” you finally say.

“Goodbye, ___. You do the same. I’ll see you when I get back.”

It’s another few seconds before he manages to start walking away. One last glance then he leaves. And he convinces himself that the sullen look in your eyes means that you’ll be thinking about him while he’s away, the same way he’ll be thinking about you, perhaps while he looks at the sky, knowing it’s the same one you’ll be looking at, and then you wouldn’t feel so far away.

The time on your watch reads 11:10. The plane should be leaving anytime soon, and you wonder how Jungkook is doing, if he was able to sleep well and eat at the airport lounge. You at least know he got there on time. Mr. Ri arrived some time ago to say that he’s dropped Jungkook off and that he was instructed to take you to work and bring you home until your boss comes back from his vacation. You didn’t argue, knowing that it’s Jungkook’s way of making things convenient for you, given all the responsibilities you have to carry while he’s away.

But other than that, you don’t know how he’s doing without any update from him. Which is silly for you to even expect. This is a personal trip, after all, and even if the line has somehow blurred after everything that’s happened between you two, you shouldn’t be waiting for some message about him having boarded or something. You’ll maybe just wait for his email asking for updates about his father’s comments on the policies that Jungkook drafted for approval. Or once A-yeong has posted on social media that they’ve landed.

You shake your head, knowing that liquidating expenses is more important right now than your boss. But then your phone beeps and the smile on your face is immediate.

[From: VP Jeon] The plane arrived late so we just boarded. I’ll get some work done during the flight but I just emailed you an end-of-year message for staff. Can you check if it sounds good?

[To: VP Jeon] I will, sir. Have a safe flight.

[From: VP Jeon] Thanks. I’ll let you know when we’ve landed.

Simple and professional, you think, but somehow the thought of him messaging you before takeoff - even if it’s work-related - has you feeling giddy. There’s no desire for more. Just knowing he’s okay and also still thinking of you has you satisfied.

You don’t get to wipe off the smile quick enough for Yoongi not to see, as you hear him clearing his throat, prompting you to look up and see his amused face.

“I was just checking in to see how you’re coping with your boss away but it seems you’re doing fine,” he starts. “Unless… he’s the reason why you’re smiling.”

Your silence confirms his suspicion, and he merely laughs in response.

“Yah! You’re supposed to reprimand me,” you pout at him.

“And what would that do?” He challenges. “You’re an adult. ___. You feel what you feel, you do what you do. It’s up to you how you want this to play out.”

“Well, I’ll tell you how it will play out,” you say. “I will continue doing what I’m supposed to do, wait for the Arts Center to open, resign, then never have to see or think about him again. And I’ll be content with that.”

Yoongi doesn’t press or counter you, choosing instead to just agree with your plan and be the supportive friend you need him to be, even if your eventual resignation will make him incredibly sad.

You’re very particular with the people you let in, with the people you allow to become an important part of your life. He’s lucky he didn’t scare you away for you to distance yourself from him, and though you didn’t return his feelings, he supposes that’s better. He gets to be someone you feel comfortable enough to be with, to be honest with, and that’s more than he can ask for. However you choose to approach whatever it is you’re feeling for Jungkook, his friend who’s just as cautious when it comes to people, Yoongi will just be there like he has all these years.

“Anyway, is that all you came here for? To know how I was doing?” You ask.

“I sent you the designs and proposals I need Jungkook to go through,” Yoongi responds. “He said to submit them and he’ll review those while he’s there. I wasn’t going to since I want him to actually rest and enjoy his vacation but he’ll be on my ass about it.”

He explains his vision, which you note down so you can articulate it when Jungkook asks. Yoongi leaves you to work on all your tasks, making sure to send you a teasing smile on his way out.

You continue with your day, ending it with an email to your boss about what transpired and the documents he needs to approve. He responds past 1AM the next day during his layover in Amsterdam. Two hours after that, he messages you that they’ve arrived in Denmark and will have dinner before going to bed.

It’s the day after, on a Friday, when he schedules a video call with you that has you fixing your hair and retouching your lipstick before picking up. He shows up on the screen donned in a white jumper, his unstyled hair making him look cozy and much more boyish than you’re used to. You let yourself be familiarized with the scene, with him seated by a desk with the large window behind him showing clear blue skies and colorful structures. He seems to do the same, as the silence lingers for the next half a minute or so.

He speaks up first, greeting you and asking how you’ve been.

“I’m okay, Mr. Jeon. Getting a lot done on the post-event admin work,” you reply. “How about you? You look refreshed and relaxed. That’s a new sight to see.”

“It’s probably the Copenhagen air,” he says. “It’s gorgeous out here. And the buildings are beautiful. We’re staying at this nice boutique hotel that Hoseok and I explored yesterday. It’s giving us ideas for a serviced apartment with this kind of design. Or maybe villas by the mountains.”

“Oh, talking about work while on vacation, I see,” you shake your head. “I bet A-yeong regrets inviting you to join them.”

“Maybe another day of Hoseok and I just going to hotels and random buildings and she already will,” he laughs. “It’s work but also not. It’s nice to feel inspired by the surroundings. I realized that doesn’t really happen when I’m there.”

“Oh I’m sure. You’re VP Jeon when you’re here and there, you’re just a regular person, a traveler, an architect. As long as you’re getting the rest that you deserve,” you smile.

“That’s true,” he nods, taking your words in.

He’s just him while he walks past the canal, while he explores the city and its vibrant structures; he’s just a man in a foreign country who doesn’t have to connect with people, he just has to connect with what’s around him.

“So, let’s go over your email and the things I need to review and approve,” he continues.

Your hour-long meeting proceeds with approvals and instructions, and he impresses you with how much he’s done despite being on vacation. You suppose he’s still jet lagged and is just taking advantage, but you remind him again that the weekend is coming and you won’t be working, so neither should he.

“I know, don’t worry,” he assures you. “We’re heading to other towns these next few days before taking the train to Sweden. I’ll have time to work but also to enjoy the scenery.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re able to take a break from all the craziness back here,” you say, meaning it.

He works so hard and you always wonder if he allows himself to breathe, to take a pause so he can look forward to something, and then savor it when it comes.

“Me, too. So when you take your vacation, I expect the same from you, alright?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, sir,” you laugh. “I am gonna completely shut out once I clock off next Friday. You won’t hear from me until I’m back here.”

“Of course,” he says after a beat of silence. “You deserve a longer break, actually. You know you can always request for an extension.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to deal with so much backlog,” you respond. “I don’t really have anywhere else to go and people to drag with me. Plus, I’ll have a few days off for my birthday next month so I’ll definitely have more chances for rest.”

Jungkook nods, knowing that time will be bittersweet for him because you’ll get to have your break while he’ll be without you. Just like how it is now, as he’s on this vacation while you’re left to do so much work thousands of miles away from him. It also means he doesn’t get to do his routine with you, something that’s given him comfort and a sense of stability these past months. Seeing you through this call is his only way to remain connected with you, a chance to know how you’re doing, a moment to hear your voice and see the smile he’s been without. It’s just been two days but he already feels it’s much longer.

He finally lets you go, knowing you’ll be clocking out soon. Even if he doesn’t want to yet, he says goodbye.

As you asked, he savors their second day in the city, but he sees you everywhere - in all the greenery that he passes, in the library down the street, in the cafe with all the pastries that they eat at, and in the sky as he falls asleep at night. There’s comfort in knowing it’s the same one you wake up to every morning.

Not having Jungkook this long is a little disorienting. Sure, he’s been away a few times, but he’d still call or message to ask something or to give you instructions. It’s become your habit to bring him coffee every few hours, and you find yourself making one only to realize that he isn’t around.

Seeing him in A-yeong’s social media feels quite intrusive, but you couldn’t help but watch her Instagram stories, with him in a green fleece jumper as he walked down charming streets last Saturday, and then a black coat over a blue sweatshirt as he strolled the beachside on Sunday. He called the day before, on Tuesday afternoon, for your regular check-in, another hour of talking about work, even if all you wanna hear about is how his days have been. You’ve never thought about it as much before, but somehow seeing him in this way makes you care, it makes you want to know what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking.

You shake away the thoughts as Wednesday ends. It’s been a week since he left and there’s over two more weeks until he’s back. You’ll have another call on Friday and there won’t be another one until you return from your own vacation, and the thought saddens you, knowing there won’t be a reason for either of you to reach out.

But you take it as a challenge, as a way for you to slowly get him out of your system. Hopefully being without him for a while will help.

Friday comes and the call with Jungkook goes a little longer than usual. It’s towards the end when Hoseok and A-yeong make an appearance, as they’re all staying at a rental by the lake in a town in Sweden, and are about to have their breakfast.

“___!” Hoseok chirps. “Is my cousin still working you to the bone?”

“Asks the man who has hours-long meetings with his assistant every other day. If I may say, Hoseok, you’re driving Bitna crazy. I think I just saw her earlier pulling her hair out,” you tease.

“Ah, I don’t blame her. There’s just too much going on,” he sighs. “But at least I’m off her back now. It’s your last day before your break, you shouldn’t even be working right now! You should just be hanging out with the team before you all go out for dinner!”

“Like you said, there’s just too much going on,” you counter.

“These men never stop working, do they?” A-yeong huffs from next to her husband, prompting you to nod in agreement. She turns to Jungkook with her arms on her waist. “I’m telling you now, Kook, how are you gonna find a girlfriend when all you do is work, work, party, work, party, and work? Hmm?”

Jungkook chuckles, his hand behind his neck as he tries to give an answer. You can imagine A-yeong hampering him about this, given that she’s quite the proponent when it comes to companionship. It’s why she’s always patient with Hoseok, and why they love each other as much as they do. There’s understanding and respect, there’s trust and honesty. She’s not afraid to tell him when she feels neglected, and he makes up for it immediately.

“I’ll find her when I’m meant to,” Jungkook responds. “But anyway, I was just about to let ___ go.”

“Finally,” Hoseok says. Turning to you, he gives you that warm smile that you adore. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bug you during your break.”

“Good,” you respond, even if the thought saddens you a little. “Anyway, it looks so pretty out there. I’m so glad you’re all enjoying it.”

“It is! And the sights are spectacular, ___. It’s definitely a must-visit,” Hoseok replies.

“One day,” you say, knowing it’ll probably never happen. Still, you indulge him. “I’ll settle with pictures for now, so you better take lots of them for me to see.”

“Ah, Kook is the resident photographer! He’s been taking a lot so he’ll show you.”

“That would be nice,” you smile. “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you from enjoying your day. So I’ll go ahead. I’ll see you all when you get back!”

They bid you goodbye, and there’s that nod again, that smile, that softness that you’ve started getting used to seeing on Jungkook. It’s what you think about during the team dinner an hour later, while in the car going home as soft music plays, and as you fall asleep.

You hold onto that last image of him, until the next day when A-yeong posts on her socials again. It’s those snippets of his life that make you pause during the day and keep you up at night. There’s so much about him that you’re drawn to, that you want to get to know, that you want to protect.

He’s like a movie that plays in the local theater - captivating, intriguing, yet you remain a spectator and then it ends, moving on and you’ve only got the memory of it etched in your mind. It’s not yours to watch whenever you want and no matter how much you try to analyze it, it’ll always just be your interpretation, not his. He’ll remain as a moving image that you want so much to capture but seems too big, too overwhelming, too far.

But there are instances when you think you’ve got him for a second, that you understand him a little. There are moments like arriving at his penthouse the morning after he gets back from his trip with his mussed hair and oversized jumper that he feels more human, more flawed, more tangible.

It’s when he smiles at you and says that it’s nice to see you again that he feels within reach. It’s also the moment you realize that him being away didn’t really help. If anything, it intensified that feeling that you know you can’t have. You’re gonna lose him one day, and when you do, you hope for only the good memories to stay.

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook fanfiction #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook series #boss jungkook

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double--blind · 7 months

Text

(SPOILERS) breaking down how obsessed Andrew is w/his sister bc he's a repressed lil liar and I'm going insane

This post got longer than I intended it to

1. He claims they don't spend enough time apart from each other to even begin missing her so he doesn't even know if he would, but just earlier in the game he was apart from her for probs like 30 mins tops to investigates some cultists and guess what???? He was already missing her 😒

2. Says "I thought you grew out of this touchy-feely crap" when Ashley asks for a hug, but earlier when he was cooking dinner, he was the one with the inexplicable urge to "pull this broody bitch into [his] arms and force her to stay until she smiles" 😒

3. Piggy-backing off the last screenshot: WHAT OTHER THOUGHTS, ANDREW??? yOU WERE JUST THINKING ABT HUGGING HER. WHAT DO YOU EVEN MEAN. THESE ARE SIMPLY INNOCENT BROTHERLY THOUGHTS ARE THEY NOT????? 🤨🤨🤨

4. Bro just can't keep his hands off her. And everyone thinks Ashley's the clingy one jeez (lol the way he springs apart from her when Mom catches them is definitely definitelyyyy not worth analyzing. nope. not even when it happens a second time on the couch. nope. nooope)

5. What. What is he thinking here. Don't think I don't see those grey lil blush lines. Is this connected to my third point somehow bc like... 🤨😬 Is "Andrew" is gonna start doing and being what "Andy" was too spineless and afraid of doing?? That's what the vow was partly abt right?? Does that include—

5. WHEWWW BOY that little flashback with his gf has so much baggage in it I just wanna dissect. His girlfriend's tryna have a serious discussion with him abt his weird sister for the sake of bettering their relationship bc she genuinely loves him, but he just gets caught up in fondly talking abt said weird sister instead??

6. He's awfully hesitant abt Ashley learning some independence, bc y'know what?? I think he doesn't really want her to stop relying on him. But what do I know y'know

6. Wants his gf to put tie her hair up in a ponytail, then when she refuses bc he'll pull on it, says it's just "how boys express their love". Well. You know who else puts there hair up in a ponytail??? You know who else's hair he's always pulling on and touching???

7. The voicemails in his gf's phone left by Ashley are heard by him in his dreams, and his dreams are a construction of his mind utilizing his memories, personal hangups, and knowledge of Ashley. The voicemails irl were left on his gf's phone, and for all we know, he never actually listened to them in person. Bearing this in mind... odds are the things Ashley's saying contain bits of truths he believes within himself, filtered thru her crude, hateful dialogue.

Here. I transcribed one of them...

"DO YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME!? Just because you can fuck him and I can't? You think that's love?! Are you fucking delusional?? Cumdumpsters like you are just that. He will never love you. Not like he loves me. I am the only one. I am everything. I am the secrets you'll never hear. When he lies in bed at night, and when he needs someone to hold on to… It's not you he seeks out. It is me."

8. Claims Ashley's the one with the jealous streak, not him, but I think he's just as bad. The only difference is that Ashley's never given him reason to act on it since all she's ever wanted was him, but at the slightest mention of her gettin it on w/someone else, even as a joke, he gets mad. "OVER MY DEAD BODY!!" he says, when she's jokingly contemplating getting knocked up via the neighbor so an ambulance would come for her. "I wouldn't let them," he says, when she's complaining abt not being pretty enough for the wardens to bang her

9. Going hand-in-hand with that fact, he's intensely protective of her. Didn't hesitate to cleaver the warden who found her in the closet (probs didn't even BLINK lmaooo he chose VIOLENCE), and when the cake-stealing cultist insulted her just once, he stepped forward just like that

10. In their apt, when they were lying on the floor talking abt jumping off the balcony, he was really caught up in the "romantic" fantasy of them committing a double suicide and dying with their bodies entwined so irreparably by the impact they form one unified corpse "never to be separated!" and they get buried in the same coffin together. UM??? Bro fr thought he was the sane one of the two. That wasn't even true before the cannibalism and demon summoning 😭😭😭

BONUS:

11. This might just be me, but his reaction to seeing the post-sex vision doesn't strike me as someone who's inherently opposed to the idea. Instead of disgusted, he was... flustered?? He acted like she walked in mid-guilty pleasure wet dream. This wasn't a "GROSS THATS INCEST" reaction which is... the most normal reaction to have. That's the face of a man that got CAUGHT bro.

He asks "we're not like that, are we?" and "why are you like this?" and questions the veracity of the vision, but he never actually explicitly denies wanting the vision to happen, more focused on Ashley and her reaction. He buries the elephant under the rug as fast as he can, bc yeah, it struck a landmine, but it probably wasn't a landmine for the reason Ashley thinks it is. I bet the vision just hit a little too close... :P

#the coffin of andy and leyley #coffincest #andrew x ashley #tcoaal #txt post #character analysis #andrew graves #bro is MESSED UP and I'm only scratching the surface #half of this post is analyzing his gf and I'm not even done man I didn't even mention how Julia is both a foil for Ashley and a lookalike #he both chose a girl completely different from her (mfer's compensating) and someone who reminds him of her

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snowy-vee · 2 months

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ALL MINE (3)

oblivious loser bsf! ellie williams x posesive popular bsf!fem reader

n/a: I may have rushed things! but I prefer to trust the process and cook a little bit more. I hope you all like it. Also, does the taglist works how I've done it or there's another way to do a taglist?

trigger warnings;; mention of vomit (1), idk if catalog it into violence because there's none but intense argue(?

Pt.1 HERE

pt.2 HERE

pt.4 HERE

Inform yourself about what’s happening and how to help! FREE PALESTINE, FREE CONGO.

Ellie was in such a boring class that she barely noticed when it ended and people started to pack up; a few of her classmates were waiting for her at the entrance of the door, so she hurried out with them. They discussed the topics covered in class today as they walked to the dinning hall.

“Ellie!” you called out, causing both her and her classmates to turn; you were on the opposite path from her, so you had to run a bit to reach her side faster. You opened your gym bag and pulled out the folder Ellie had left in your room last night after studying together. “Your folder, you said you needed it today.”

You were dressed in your cheerleading uniform since you had practice right now. Ellie, who had been a little dazed watching the movement of your skirt as you ran, nodded, feeling her cheeks burn, and indeed, you looked so pretty, especially when you said goodbye and turned around, showing the small bow in the back of your hair.

“Sometimes I forget you’re friends with someone so popular. How is it possible that you’re friends with her?” one of them said, mesmerized by your presence, like the rest of the group

“Well, we are, best friends,” Ellie asserted with a smile. It’s true that she was annoyed when people questioned your friendship, but she was happy to have you as a friend, and perhaps she also enjoyed the feeling of envy from others…

“Yeah but she is popular, pretty, hangs out with her kind of cliché, goes to every party invited ¡Hell! She could be an influencer if she wanted to… and you are you”

“Hey, I have my own charm” Ellie said softly feeling a little bit offended “Whatever, we’ve been friend for so many years and that’s what matters”

“Really? Then do you know if the rumours about her and Abby are true? I think it’s the hottest gossip on campus, the cheerleading captain and the captain of the women’s basketball team.”

“They’re all lies, don’t believe any of that. She wouldn’t be with someone like Abby,” Ellie said, dismissing the comments, and she sounded so sure of what she was saying, especially because you assured her of it the same night of the party.

Finally, you had arrived home, you were so tired that as soon as you got to your room, you collapsed on the bed.

“At least change before you throw yourself on the bed,” Ellie leaned against the door of your room. You nodded, kicking off your shoes and getting up to grab your pajamas; you began to undress in front of her, caring little, as it wasn’t the first time.

Ellie, without changing her position, watched as you slowly untied the knot of your top and let it fall, exposing your purple bra, unbuttoning the button of your skirt and slowly lowering the zipper. The skirt fell quickly, revealing your white panties with purple bows matching the bra.

She bit her lip as she looked at your body until she reached your collarbones; there was a hickey, and it looked recent. “Did… Abby do that?”

“Hmm?” You looked at her, she pointed to her collarbone, making you look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the hickey.

‘Shit, I told her not to leave marks.’ you thought rolling your eyes mentally

“Did she do that to you?” Ellie had a slight grimace of disgust as she asked the question, obviously she noticed.

“Of course not! It was some guy I was dancing with.”

“You swear? Because you know that I do not like Abby at all.”

You fucking knew it, that’s why when you were mad at her you used to call Abby. You knew how much it would hurt her, you had no idea why they hated each other and everytime you asked her she said that she had her reasons and was protecting you.

“I swear, I would never do that to you. Abby does want something with me, I think she’s obssesed with me, she’s telling people things that never happen, spreading false rumors,” you sighed as you finished putting on your pajamas, approaching Ellie and putting your hands on her shoulders. “At the party today, she tried to talk to me and go further, but I told her no, to leave me alone, she got really mad and threatened to keep spreading rumors, and I told her I didn’t care.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this? I could’ve defend you.”

“Oh, Ellie, please, I know you can but do you know how many rumors there are about me? I don’t care what others think; I care that you trust me. Do you trust me?”

“Completely,” she smiled before you kissed her on the cheek and let her go while you went to the bathroom to remove your makeup changing the topic.

Ellie smiled too, of course she trusted you, that’s why she was now in front of her classmates denying the rumors, no matter how much you didn’t care, she wasn’t going to let people talk nonsense about you. No one knew you like she did.

“Are you sure? Because Abby has been telling the whole team how much of a naughty bitch, how good she could take her seven inches strap, other nasty things I can’t repeat and that she had video proof…” the guy beside Ellie spoke while looking at his phone.

“What? Unbelievable! Isn’t that like revenge corn?” Another girl said looking at his phone as well.

Her smile dropped. “What did you just say?”

She stopped walking, and with her, the group. The guy who said that showed her his phone, it was a group chat with the football and basketball team, and Abby had sent different pictures that one could only see them once. “You’ve seen them?”

“N-no she hasn’t showed them yet but would do it soon…”

“Can you confirm that she was talking about her”

“It’s pretty much her name and physic description, yeah,” Ellie licked her lips, nodding slowly.

“Does anyone know where Abby is right now?”

(What happened in the fight?)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You began to climb the stairs to your floor, Ellie and you lived on the first floor so it took less than a minute, phone in your hand, calling Ellie for the twelfth time. Since you finished practice, you had been calling her to come pick you up without getting a response, not even a message.

By the time you were turning the keys and opening the door, your whole body was filled with worry, but seeing her shoes, you felt a little relieved. “Ellie? Hey, if you’re not going to come pick me up, let me know beforehand! And answer my calls even if it’s just for a second! You had me worried.”

You took off your shoes and left the keys at the entrance, noticing her backpack lying on the floor with all her things scattered about. You sighed, leaving your bag on the kitchen counter and crouching down to start picking up her things. “Ellie?”

You finished picking up and placed everything inside. The door to her room was halfway open, and you could see the light was on. “Don’t you hear me calling your name?”

You entered the room, placing the backpack next to the wardrobe. Ellie was sitting on the edge of her bed with her back to you. The atmosphere felt so tense that it made you involuntarily swallow.

“I want you to be honest with me,” she said in an intimidating tone, suddenly a shiver ran down your spine. “And I want the truth, if you lie to me…”

She let out an incredulous laugh. “If you lie to me again…” Your breath caught, thinking about what lie you had told Ellie, all small except for… Impossible, Abby wouldn’t spill, you had Abby under control.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s wrong?” You tried to approach, but Ellie raised her hand.

“Stay where you are, or move away from there.”

“Ellie-”

“Shut the fuck up!” she interrupted you. “Did you or did you not fuck Abby?”

What you were praying that wasn’t the problem was exactly the problem. You didn’t know where to hide, your legs seemed to want to flee, you wished the ground would swallow you up at that very moment. You tried to say something, but your lips were trembling. Were you going to lie again? No. It was obvious that she already knew everything; she just wanted to hear it from you.

“Did you or did you not fuck Abby?” Ellie repeated the question, now more demanding and intimidating, making your eyes start to fill with tears. You hated confrontations, especially if it was your fault.

“Yes,” you whispered, looking at the ground and clasping your hands, embarrassed by how ashamed you were starting to feel.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“Oh my fucking god, Ellie! Yes, I fucked her, I fucking did!” you exclaimed, tired of how tense your body was becoming. She nodded slowly, getting up from her bed and turning to face you. “What the fuck? What have you done?”

Her lip was split with dried blood on it, she also had a bruise next to her eye and a split eyebrow. Your concerned face made her chuckle. “If this worries you, you should see Anderson.”

You unconsciously approached, trying to touch the wounds, but Ellie stopped your hand at that moment. You were maintaining such intense eye contact that it seemed like you were communicating. You were asking her to let you clean her wounds and disinfect them; she was asking you how you could betray her like this.

“You lied to my fucking face. Was it funny?” Her grip felt more painful. “What? Were you two laughing at me behind my back?” You two were close, but Ellie started taking steps closer to you, so you had no choice but to take some steps back until your were was pressed against the wall.

“It’s not like that, Ellie… my wrist- you are hurting me,” you said, feeling tears running down your face.

“Not like that? And how the fuck was it?” She screamed, making you feel smaller and making you cry more. “Explain it to me! Because I can’t understand why the fuck my best friend went behind my back to fuck the person I hate the most out of everybody on the fucking earth. Oh God! I knew you were a whore, but I never thought you would sacrifice our friendship for some sex.”

You couldn’t answer as you cried; for a moment, Ellie loosened her grip on your wrist, and you could see her eyes also filling with tears. You couldn’t hate yourself more at that moment.

“Why? I just want to know. There has to be an explanation for you to do this to me.”

“It meant nothing, I swear, it was just a few times, nothing serious,” you tried to excuse yourself, wiping your tears with your hands, but it was useless, they kept falling.

“Did she give you the hickey?” You sighed exhausted, looking at the other side, but she grabbed your jaw, forcing you to face her and look her in the eyes. “Answer.”

You nodded. Ellie let go of you, shaking her head, raising her hands in the air, defeated, watching you slide until you were sitting on the floor.

“Incredible… When was the last time except for the party?”

“That morning… She was the one who drove me to class; we did it on the couch. But then I ignored her once we got to class, that’s why you saw me arguing with her in the hallway.” You didn’t even know why you were giving so much explanation.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Ellie really wanted a clear answer, but it seemed so pathetic to tell her that you were fucking Abby to mentally punish her for annoying you. It was your way of torturing her without her finding out because many things Ellie did annoyed you, especially when she didn’t do things your way. You knew perfectly well how she would react if she found out, but you never thought it would hurt you so much. You shrugged, looking at her; you didn’t know what to say, but you knew what not to say.

“I can’t see you right now,” Ellie said, grabbing her jacket and leaving the room.

“Wait, where are you going?” you asked, almost crawling to follow her. “Ellie!”

You shouted her name, but the door slamming shut was enough to make you shut up and leave you there, alone on the floor, crying, and you could have kept going if it weren’t for the sound of a phone. Ellie’s phone.

You approached the bed where it was, seeing that she was being called. Dina was calling her and also sending messages; you managed to read one above:

Dina<333

Of course, you can come to my house, but are you…

As if someone had kicked you in the stomach, you ran to the bathroom to vomit until you couldn’t anymore. You had pushed Ellie towards Dina yourself.

No, that’s not how the story should continue. Everything was going so well. After the party, Dina started ignoring Ellie all week, and she barely wondered why the raven-haired girl wasn’t talking to her like before, because Ellie was busy looking out for you.

She would leave her classes directly to find you, not giving Abby a chance to talk to you. She accompanied you at the beginning of your classes even if it meant she was late for hers… She was there for you 24/7, and it was so perfect for you. What was the mistake you made? Did you make it, or was it Abby? It was her. She ruined your precious environment and your relationship with Ellie.

At least that’s what you thought as you grabbed your keys and quickly left the house. Oh, you were going to fuck Abby. Fuck her UP.

taglist;; @boobdrug @lovelyxbaby @pedropascalsbbg @cherryimaa

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luveline · 10 months

Text

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel does everything he can to make you feel better after a civilian casualty steals your ‘sunshine’. —a fic featuring reluctantly adoring miguel and his sad spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 4k

cw character death, violence, reactive depression

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Miguel," you say, your voice grained by the communicator in his ear, "this universe is almost the same as mine, right?"

Miguel stares down at a Doc Ock variant you're staking out, lying in wait for the anomalistic antagonist to make his first move. He's trying desperately to maintain his focus but you have a nice voice, and you ask him with a confidence that betrays your total faith in him. You haven't considered that he might not know.

Well, Miguel does know. He's not sure he should start this discussion and distract you, but he has trouble saying no to you in any capacity, so he does.

"I don't know every difference, but yeah, they're the same. Same geography, world leaders, roughly the same fast food chains." He bites his lip. He's at work, more than work —you're attempting to save an entire dimension, here— and he shouldn't feed the conversation anymore. But he knows you'll be interested in this. "Donuts aren't a thing, here."

"What?"

"They have donuts, but they aren't called donuts, and they're nowhere near as popular."

"This is a very strange way to flirt," Lyla says, her flickering hazed by a golden aura as she changes rapidly between laying on her front, legs kicking, and her back, as though she's in a therapist's daybed. She floats across his vision lazily.

"That's because I'm not," Miguel says.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing. Talking to Lyla."

"How come Lyla doesn't talk to me?" you ask sweetly.

Miguel can see you in the distance, your simple black suit like an ink splodge against the blue grey glass of the skyscraper you're standing on. Anchored with a web and your body tensed, you're perfectly parallel to the ground below, as though you're standing on the windows.

"It's not that I don't want to," Lyla promises. "Miggy won't let me."

"That is not true."

Projections cover Miguel's vision, powered by his favourite lying intelligence. Movements are mapped in a bright marigold yellow, though the net turns red to signify potential danger, chance percentages bouncing up and down. Doc Ock raises an arm and it turns an eye-straining red. He sits down on a park bench and his body turns yellow again. It's a smart program, but it can't account for everything.

"Something isn't right."

You hum appreciatively. "It feels weird, how he's acting. Like he's two separate people."

Doc Ock glitches hard, the air around him fractured by colours in varying depths, like a tangible, physical screen tone. They've been coming faster. He doesn't have much time before he begins to tear apart, and that tearing will prompt panic. Panic will prompt anger.

"What should we do?" you ask.

Miguel doesn't know. He regrets asking you to come with him, not that you aren't capable. When you first joined the Spider Society you'd hadn't been Spider-Girl in your own universe for very long, and you weren't particularly proactive. You were kind-hearted but lackadaisical, and after worming your way into his life, a flower budding between concrete slabs it shouldn't have the power to crack, (he seriously doesn't know how it happened, only that you'd been bringing him things, carefully wrapped foods and trinkets you'd made, your bad conversation, and suddenly you were worrying about him and doting on him in the strange way that you do, suddenly, he was doing the same), you decided you wanted to help. You've trained hard on Spider-led courses at the Society, improving your overall fitness, your stamina, your technique, to become the fighter you are now. You can hold your own well.

Miguel knows what motivated you. You want to look after him. You'd all but admitted to it. And that's why Miguel wishes he asked someone else to come with him, because you'll put yourself in harm's way as he would for you, to protect.

"Why did you want to know if this universe was the same?" he asks, the nano of his suit morphing over his hands, claws growing long and minaciously sharp.

"Oh! Because, I used to have these favourite cookies called Butter Leaves, but they stopped making them in my dimension 'cos of the Whey disease. Even when it was better, loads of companies couldn't come back…"

You give him the entire history. He already knows it. He tries to listen to you with the attention you deserve anyway, only he's weighed the options, and taking down Doc Ock feels much more important than listening to your cravings.

"They were really thin and they had this sweet coating brushed over the top. You'd like them, I think." Miguel drops the last hundred feet to the ground, ignoring the jarring heat in his ankles at such a landing without having rolled into it. "If they were a little softer and had some sugar they'd taste just like polvorones, Miguel."

"You could say that about lots of things," Miguel argues, tone measured as not to alert bystanders nearby of his presence.

"This doesn't feel like a good idea," Lyla says. Standing now, alert.

Miguel toggles the communicator so you can't hear him.

He wonders if you'd even notice him speaking over the intensity of your excitement, "I know it's not professional but maybe we could go and look? After we beat the bad guy. They're more than worth it, I swear," you say hopefully.

"It's fine," he says to Lyla, throwing out a hand, shins braced and ready to burst into a tackle.

"It feels off, you both said it."

"It always feels off. He's in the wrong dimension, his presence caused a shift. The wrongness is unavoidable, like the body–"

"Rejecting an organ transplant," Lyla says. "I know. You say it constantly."

"If you know, why are you asking?" he asks, deadpan.

"Good to know your girlfriend can ask questions and I can't. You're a trailblazer for equality, O'Hara."

Not my girlfriend, he thinks, but he isn't sure how true that is. Miguel realigns his eyesight, the holographic netting that pinpoints anomalistic stress a menacing red where it maps Doc Ock's limbs. The colours are abrasive against the yellow-green leaves fluttering in the breeze to the grass below, trees like arms stretched toward one another standing behind the simple brown bench where Doc Ock murmurs drunken-sounding ravings.

Miguel's fangs slice through gum and lock into place. He tries not to salivate. The paralysing agent produced gives him a numb tongue.

Miguel attempts to work quickly. Approach the target. Lock the target in. Incapacitate. He rears back and takes a deep breath.

"Wait! Behind! Behind you, Miguel, there's something behind you!"

He twists backward without hesitation and swings his arm around a cold neck. He squeezes hard, hears a metallic crunch similar to a mortar and pestle, but the person in his chokehold isn't a person, it's a robot.

"Octobots!" Lyla shouts.

"HELPFUL!" Miguel shouts back, grunting as a robotic arm curves around his back, and then a second, a third.

The hills of his muscles strain against white-lacquered steel, a sweat breaking at the back of his neck as he groans, desperate to stop the octobot from crushing his arms to a powder. He can practically hear the creaking of his humerus.

Around him, civilians scatter, screaming for their lives as a small horde of octobots descends on the park. Doc Ock doesn't react to the chaos. He sits there muttering to himself as people run past him and his octobots play cat and mouse. Miguel finally snaps the arms off the robot holding him with a pissed grunt, punching the carcass of machinery away from him while you tuck and roll from a dive to the ground. In an impressive show of your improvement and coordination, you throw out a web as you roll and hit Doc Ock square in the face, a second binding his chest to the bench. You spring to your feet, shooting at bots one after another. You must take down six by the time he's gathered his bearings.

"On your left," Lyla says. Miguel smashes a bot at the apex of its white body and she laughs. "Nice. Behind."

Miguel falls into the fight as though it's a well-practised dance. With the stress maps locked on, quick-thinking, and Lyla's pointed direction, Miguel can decapitate or incapacitate each bot swiftly as long as they don't get a hold on him like the first one managed.

You're like Lyla in that a good skirmish seems to set you off —you're giggling, cheering, enjoying yourself much more than you should be. "This is just like that video game," you say, leaping onto a moving octobot and shooting webbing at the joints, gumming them up until they can't move. "With the girl and her super powered puppy, you know that one?"

"Of course I don't know that one." Miguel brings his claws down into the aluminium shell of an octobot as it swipes your legs from under you and tears it in two. It cracks like a halved apple, the gore of its inside sparking and smoking as it hits the ground in tandem with you. Your head whacks hard into the concrete pathing beneath. He doesn't have time to help you.

The arm of a bot races forward like a stinger. This one must be the head of the hive, the Queen bee so to speak, far more complicated than the others in the plating of her ivory bodice and chain-mail like shielding on her arms.

Miguel swears under his breath and vaults at it.

He pulls your droid feed up in his display, watches you writhe from one side and the other as your pained moans play in his ear. You clamber onto wobbly footing as Miguel descends, the screeching cry of metal while it's shorn apart beneath his hands not half as loud as your useless gasping —you're winded, likely concussed.

"Civilian entering range," Lyla says.

"What? Where?"

Lyla has your drone's camera spin on the spot to show Miguel the civilian stupid enough to enter an active fight zone. They aren't stupid at all, it figures, but unaware. A man in activewear jogs the beaten path with headphones in, eyes to the ground. He stops for a moment to look at his sports watch, and like the octobot can tell, it shakes Miguel like a bothersome flea and surges for him.

You're closest.

"Y/N!" Miguel shouts, knowing it's too late before he so much as closes his mouth. You turn, your head braced in your hand, breathing hard with pain. Miguel would take it back if he could.

You can't save the civilian, but you can watch him die.

—

People look at him like he's a ghost, sometimes. Wide-eyed, horrified, they move aside in the halls. They treat him how he feels on his worst days, like someone who should've died a long time ago. Today, things are different.

No less than three Peter Parker' have stopped to stare at him unabashedly. Nearly all make the same jokes, Late for a date?

He'd honestly prefer feeling like a ghost. He can't deal with their derision and he doesn't want to, ignoring their looks and their judgement as he treks to the elevator that's gonna drop him outside of the medbay. The only person he wouldn't mind poking fun at him is you.

You aren't in the mood.

Miguel doesn't acknowledge your prone form at first. He walks to your bedside table to deposit the bouquet he'd chosen, peonies for good health and strength, swapping old for new, changing the water in your small shared sink. He may orchestrate the Spider Society, but Miguel's special privileges can't reduce the extreme turnover rate of the medbay. You have curtains to partition the room for privacy, and you got the bed by the window, and that's as much as he could get you. You deserve better.

Miguel opens the window to drown out the smell of antiseptic. He stands in front of it, his shadow stretching over your twisted hip. You're not sleeping, you're resting. Doctor's orders.

Miguel wishes you'd deign to rest in your own bed, or his, but you're a little too catatonic for a safe discharge either way.

He sighs quietly. You likely hear it with your enhanced senses and still you remain an impassive lump under your blue hospital blanket.

"Good morning," he says, instead of the thousand other things he wants to say, that he's too much of a coward to ask. "Let's get up."

He doesn't give you any choice about it. Starting slow, Miguel rounds the bed to meet your eyes through your sluggish blinking. Perhaps you'd been more asleep than he thought.

Gentle, Miguel peels down your blankets enough to push his hands under your armpits. He pulls you up into a sitting position, and it —it breaks his heart. He's a monolith, he's hurting, he has years and years of loss and grief behind him and it doesn't matter, it finds him again. His heart breaks at your limblessness and your willingness to be positioned like a paper doll.

Miguel arranges the sad pillow behind you and puts the remote for the adjustable bed frame in your hand. The last time you'd been here in the medbay after a training exercise fractured your ulna, you'd spent pretty much the entire time messing around with your bed, even as they crafted your cast. It made for messy work. Miguel must've told you to quit it fifty times.

Your fingers curl around the remote.

Miguel perches on the mattress on one knee to fix the protective style your hair is in. Nothing serious, just smoothing the tiniest of stray hairs and making sure it's still comfortable. He strokes your temple absentmindedly, checking you over one feature at a time. Tired eyes, nose tip looking parched, your lips chapped. Frowning, he sits properly, and he pulls your big hospital bag from the bedside table, his hand falling to your wrist to say, Hey, I'm here, and I'm not going far.

He finds your smaller bag of toiletries and necessities and unzips it. He tries not to think about the last time he had to take care of someone like this as he cleans your face with a wet wipe, two fingers wrapped in the wipe and petting at your skin carefully. He notices the life returning to you inchingly, his touch a tether you're pulling on, so he prolongs his actions. He smooths moisturiser over your face extra slowly. If you asked why, he could say it's cold, but you don't ask.

Your face shiny in the sunshine filtering in through the wide windows, you almost look like yourself again.

"Are you hungry?"

You shake your head. An almost imperceptible gesture.

"This is why you don't feel well," he says. "You're not eating enough."

"That's not why," you say.

He aches to hear your voice. I know, he thinks, but doesn't say.

"Eat something," he says.

You shake your head again. He managed to bring you back and squash you back down in less than a minute. He really doesn't like himself, at that moment. Often, but especially now. He's failing you. He failed you with the octobots and he's failing you now.

Miguel refuses to fail someone he cares about again.

He takes the remote for your bed and lifts the top section so you can sit back comfortably. He shakes the blankets out over you, and he puts away your things. Hopeful, Miguel places new pyjamas and underwear with your shower caddy at the end of the bed and pulls a strict pose, hands crossed over his chest.

"I need to go. Shower, eat breakfast when it comes. Please."

You give him a look that might mean Yes but probably doesn't mean anything, laying down as much as the bed allows and turning your face from him toward the flowers. Miguel leaves, stopping a ways away to look back, and watches through the gap of your curtains as you reach out to touch the flowers he'd brought. Your pinky finger is less than an inch from the petals when your movement stutters, your hand falling back to your chest with a soft thud. You close your eyes.

When Miguel returns, he's thankful to find you've done as he told you. Showered, changed, a discarded breakfast tray at your feet. You've attempted the oatmeal and left the toast to go cold, congealed butter white against golden yellow.

Miguel swaps the tray for his bags. He's hoping you might be tempted to look while he's gone. He knows before you would've known the entire contents of the open bag by the time he'd left the room, but he returns having taken your tray to the rack and is sorely disappointed.

That's fine, he decides. You don't have to look. He doesn't mind laying things out for you.

First port of call: extra pillows. He pulls the plastic wrapped 'hotel pillows' up onto your sheet and tears the plastic. They pop out. He didn't think for pillow cases, so he slides them behind your hospital pillow and pushes you down by the shoulders, not cruel but not particularly gentle —you actually laugh at his handling. He bites back a smile.

"What, you got me presents?" you ask as he dumps a blanket onto your lap. It's one of those soft, shiny fleece ones patterned with those characters you love so much, the girl and her super powered puppy.

You rub your hands over it appreciatively and spread it out over your legs. "What's that mean?" he asks, pointing at the Chinese characters, '超級汪汪!'.

"Chāojí wāngwāng!" you cheer, an impression missing the majority of your usual pep. "Super woof. It's his level five power up. He yaps and Joyce gets her HP back."

Miguel pretends to know, like he'd forgotten, and you're reminding him. "Ah."

You're watching now, interested. He puts his back between you and the bag and you whine weakly, "Miguel."

"What? You think these are for you?"

"Please, I want to see."

He gives in like a cheap tent, passing you a packet of pearly beads for your bracelet making, skeins of variegated thread that change colours, a packet of pencils with frogs on the lids, a plushie. You don't know how to react and Miguel doesn't know what to say. He honestly doesn't want to say anything, vulnerability stopped being his thing a while ago, but he clears his throat. "Do you know what I look like in the middle of Miniso? Picture it."

Miniso being a Chinese home goods store lined floor to ceiling with plushies.

You laugh weirdly. Miguel knows it's guilt holding you back.

"One last thing." He sits down on the bed next to you, hands big enough to cover the box in its entirety. "You were wrong, by the way. Extremely wrong, these don't taste a thing like polvorones."

He passes you the box. You take it into steady hands, smiling widely, your thumb brushing up against the black cursive font. A box of butter leaves from one of your sister dimensions.

"I don't know if they'll taste like they did. Are they the same ones?"

You nod, loosing a breath between parted lips. "Same ones."

"If you don't eat them all, I won't get them for you again."

"That's so mean," you murmur. Miguel would apologise if he thought you meant it.

"That's how it is. Eat your cookies. I'll come back later to make sure you actually ate dinner."

He stands. You immediately grab him, cookies dropped in favour of braceleting his wrist in your warm fingers.

You look up at him through your lashes, a frown dampening your pretty features. At least, in his eyes.

"Please don't go," you say. Your eyebrows pinch together. It's even more heartbreaking than your catatonia, this pleading loneliness, like you think he won't stay.

"You have to talk to me," Miguel says. He softens at your chastised wince, sitting back down again. "Did you want a hug?" he asks.

It's an apology to offer it, though he should've asked you this morning, or yesterday, even the day before. You'd been inconsolable when it happened. Miguel's never seen you that way. Your sunshine shattered, your shoulders shaking under his hands as he led you away from the scene, he didn't hug you like he wanted to. It wouldn't have made a difference at the time. You couldn't speak. You could barely walk.

Seeing something like that happen leaves a mark, even if you've seen it before.

You sweep aside your gifts and twist your legs to climb onto your knees. Miguel hadn't realised how much you wanted to be close to him until you're bordering his lap, your arms sliding over his shoulders, your pyjamas soft and smelling of antiseptic under his nose. A switch flicks at your nearness. He pulls you into his lap and sandwiches you there, chest to chest, thankful for his stature because it means he can encapsulate you effortlessly. He can hide you from the world for a short while.

You choke him half to death.

"It's okay," he says, your back curved into the length of his forearm, leaning forward so you can take the weight off. "You're okay."

"I don't– it's not me. I'm not worried about me."

"It's over," he says. "What's done is done." Which isn't to say it isn't tragic, or that it didn't leave a permanent mark on the world. But you're punishing yourself for a crime you didn't commit.

"It's all my fault," you whisper, your cheek pressing to his shoulder, face hidden in the juncture of his neck.

He tilts his head toward you. "It's my fault. I jumped in. I wanted it to be quick."

"I let him…"

"You had a grade ii concussion, you didn't let anyone do anything. I'm lucky you didn't pass out right there. I'm lucky you had the ability to defend yourself, because I left you defenceless."

"No, you didn't, it–" You rub your cheek against his shoulder. "It happened really fast, you were making sure that bot didn't get me because I was stupid enough to leave myself open–"

"Stop it."

It's harsh enough to stop you in your tracks. Miguel sighs hard, hair blowing away from his face.

He lays down backward, skewiff on your bed, and pulls you with him in a secure but gentle hold. You make a quiet 'oof' as you go down. Apologetic yet again, Miguel rubs a line up and down your back, fingertips between your shoulders, palm flattening as he reaches the small of your back, your shirt inching up. He's sure you look foolish to anyone watching, but for once, he's past embarrassment.

"I don't want to hear you blaming yourself. It's not your fault."

You've twisted on your side on the mattress rather than crush his pelvis, though your chest remains pressed to his. You twist a strand of his dark hair around your finger. "Why did you bring me all this stuff?" you ask softly.

"To make you feel better."

"But why… do you… want that? Why does it matter that much, that you'd waste time going to get me things?"

"Why do you think?" he asks.

Your lips ghost the column of his throat. "Mm… 'cos you're nicer than you let on."

"Wrong."

You laugh again. He's more grateful than he'd ever say aloud.

"Because you care about me too much."

Too much is right. He feels like he's at the stern of the universe's most important ship. The universes, plural. That ship is heading square for an iceberg, for the precipice of a gargantuan whirlpool, and there's nothing Miguel can do but hand out buckets and veer sharply to the left, hoping it will be enough, knowing deep down that it won't be if something doesn't give soon. And he's lived a life, two lives, before he even met you. He's tired. He doesn't want to lose anyone else, and he hoped he could do that by never caring again.

What a stupid hope.

"I just want you to feel like yourself again," he admits.

"I really wanted to save him."

"You can't save everyone."

He knows better than most.

"I know," you say, no tears left to cry, voice impossibly small.

Miguel wraps his arms around you and doesn't let go for a long, long time.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you so much for reading, I really really hope you enjoyed! please think about reblogging if you liked it, I appreciate it <3

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andivmg · 2 months

Note

speak up andi, I beg of you, you have been mistreated the most here, I know it took shubble a lot of courage but she has helped so many people

i want to start this off by saying it is not a competition and i do not want to compare my experience to anybody else’s. shubble is so fucking strong and i admire her and everyone else who has spoken up about experiencing abuse endlessly.

DISCLAIMER 1

this is way longer than i intended it to be. i did not plan to go into as much depth as i did but the words just kinda kept coming and i kept thinking that if someone else is in a similar situation to the one i was in, it would be good to point out even some of the smaller details so that they can see that these behaviors are not something to be overlooked and could be a symptom of a bigger issue… idk. i apologize for how lengthy and wordy this is but i hope it all makes sense somehow

DISCLAIMER 2

a lot of you know who one of my exes is and i am asking you to please not make this about him. i am simply sharing my experience with some of my past relationships in hopes that they help someone else. i beg of you, do not go on twitter making threads speculating on whatever because it’s just going to cause me a bunch of problems and i don’t want this to be brought to his attention. if you share my story, please do not do it with the intent of starting drama. if you share my story, focus on the behaviors i am talking about instead of trying to figure out if it’s about him.

DISCLAIMER 3

this goes without saying but i’ll put it here anyway: i will be talking about toxic relationships, mention of self harm, mention of sex, implied violence. if any of these topics are triggering to you please scroll away, protect yourself.

I have been in a lot of relationships, but there are 4 that i would truly identify as the ones who had the biggest impact on me. Two of those i would consider emotional mistreatment. I don’t want to say i was abused for reasons that i will be discussing with my therapist this week, but i can certainly say i was mistreated. For the sake of privacy, i will be referring to these two dudes as 1 and 6.

I think the biggest difference between 1 and 6 is that 6 was obsessed with me to the point where i felt like i was being suffocated, whereas i’m not sure if 1 ever cared about me in the first place.

6 and i started out pretty normally. we had a bunch of friends in common and we were around the same people. so eventually, we became friends too. we would text and call all the time until feelings developed into a relationship. in the beginning he was really sweet and caring, saying all the right things that got me falling head over heels. now, something important to note is that i am someone who has always had a lot of guy friends. when i was little and in school, my mom made friends with a bunch of other moms and those moms were boy moms, so i grew up surrounded by boys. i bring this up because 6 didn’t like my guy friends. actually, i think he just didn’t like the fact that i had guy friends at all. so, whenever i would hang out with my friends, it was a problem. so this resulted in me never being able to go out or hang out with my friends unless he was there. then it got worse. before we started dating he had decided to cut back on drinking and to stop smoking. so because of this, i decided that i wouldn’t drink or smoke around him in solidarity. this was not enough for him. i had to stop drinking and smoking altogether. so once, when i was hanging out with my girl friends we decided to stay in and get wine drunk. we posted about it on our private stories on snap and once he saw, 6 called me arguing and yelling at me because i was drinking and posting about it on my story for “attention”. after this incident, i was no longer allowed to hang out with my friends because they were a “bad influence”. he also didn’t like the clothes i wore. sorry, let me reiterate: he didn’t like my clothes when he wasn’t around. it was perfectly fine for me to wear a short dress… if i was with him. i was not allowed to wear “revealing” clothing if he wasn’t around. mind you, none of the clothes i wore were revealing, it’s not my fault i’m hot yk? he took over my life. who i talked to, what i did, what i wore, where i would go, it was all up to him. my life no longer belonged to me. and at the time, i was okay with that. i didn’t realize that he had so much control over everything. i was young and naïve and he convinced me that he knew what was best for me. that he had lived more than i had and experienced more than i had and that he knew better. he was so good at making everything my fault and making him the hero or victim depending on the situation. i got catcalled on the street? “because you were wearing that fucking dress again, andrea you know how that looks. of course you got catcalled. this is why you can’t wear things like that when i’m not around to protect you”. I decided to have a fun night in with my friends and get drunk? “i just don’t understand why you would be posting yourself on your private story like that. you’re drunk and vulnerable. why do you want other people, other guys, to see you like that? and you know i’ve cut back on drinking so how do you think it makes me feel to see that? don’t you love me enough to do this for me?” the worst part is i believed him. because, in the beginning, he helped me so much and i looked up to him so much, surely he had my best interests at heart, right? this relationship went on for way longer than it should have. you may be asking yourself, how did you leave? if you were so in love with him and entranced by him to the point where he consumed you, why did you leave? he raised his hand. that’s what got me to finally leave. a year after we broke up, i found out that he was drinking, smoking, and doing all kinds of shit he told me he wasn’t throughout our entire relationship. he was awful, and i’m really proud of myself for being strong enough to leave when i did. i’m also really grateful for my friends, who stuck out that whole train wreck with me. who i lashed out against in order to protect him and defend him. they stuck by me through it all and i don’t know where i would be without them so shoutout to them lmfao.

1 was a bit more complicated. it started out in a similar way. we had the same friends, hung out around the same people, so it was only a matter of time until we became friends too. we would call and text every day until feelings were developed. at least i developed feelings, i’m still not sure he did. i told him this and i don’t remember how the conversation went but basically we had decided that we were talking as more than friends now. enough time went by where i was ready for it to become a relationship and i communicated that to him. looking back, i think he felt pressured into the relationship by me and by our friends. anyway we started dating and everything was fine. we would hang out and talk all the time but i felt like he was bored or disinterested by me, so i would constantly beg for his attention. i became this needy clingy version of myself that i hated. it felt like when we would hang out, he was always distracted by something else. i basically felt invisible to him. that is, when i wasn’t hanging out with my guy friends. similarly to 6, 1 did not like my guy friends or the fact that i had guy friends in the first place. i had a guy best friend at the time who is one of the most amazing people i have ever met. let’s call him S. S and 1 were acquainted with each other, hung out in the same circles etc. but 1 still didn’t like him. sometimes, whenever 1 was busy doing whatever he did when he wasn’t with me, i would hang out with S, we would watch shows together and just talk. Some days, it felt like i talked to S more than my own boyfriend. this did not sit well with 1. he would ask “why the fuck are you always hanging out with him?” to which i would reply “maybe if you hung out with me more, i wouldn’t have so much free time to spend with him” (toxic ik but what can i say? i was feeling neglected). so you can see what problems this caused. eventually i cut S off. I stopped talking to him completely and i haven’t spoken to him since. Back to 1. even after cutting off my best friend, nothing really changed. He didn’t spend much time with me and whenever we would, i felt like he couldn’t wait to go off and do something else. this got exhausting. at that point i was begging him to love me, to pay attention to me, to care about me. this led to us breaking up. he broke up with me over text. it read, and i quote, “i think we aren’t meant for each other. i think you deserve someone that will treat you better than i do. I don’t think i’m in love with you and i tried to force myself to love you because i thought that’s what i wanted but i really don’t think it is. we started this relationship when i was just tired of being alone and i really just don’t think it is right anymore. i don’t think i am attracted to you. I am sorry, i really didn’t know how to end this and this probably isn’t the best way to do it but it’s time”. The relationship went on for another six months after this. granted, i should have had more self respect and never gotten back together with him but it is what it is. so after he told me that he didn’t love me and that he wasn’t attracted to me, we stayed “friends”. which basically meant that we did everything that a relationship involved. without actually being in a relationship. that is, until one of his friends hit me up. there was some flirtation going on but nothing serious. i was still in love with 1 but, at the time, i was in desperate need for attention and his buddy was there to provide it. when i told 1 about it he flipped out, called me all kinds of crazy and decided he was done with me. his friend and i talked about it and poked fun at the fact that he broke up with me but got mad at someone else paying attention to me. when 1 saw this (he ended up forcing me to show him the screenshots of the conversation) he was even more pissed and even more done with me. the next day he called me and we were basically back together again.

however, this time, i was meant to earn his affection. because i did something so unforgivable and atrocious, he was basically in the clear to treat me like shit. and he did. he would cancel plans to go hang out with his friends. he would only come over late at night, even when i had class the next day. i was basically at his mercy. we only hung out when he decided. we only spoke when he wanted to. i honestly can’t even recall us going on any date after that incident, save for one dinner. in short, i was not a priority to him. this, combined with some other stuff, really took at toll on my mental health. i entered a deep depression and began self-harming after being clean for 3 years. i sought out help and found a wonderful therapist who really helped me. but, 1 only saw this as one more problem. when we hung out he would complain that i was too sad. important note: because of that text he sent me i was incredibly insecure. so, little arguments would always end up escalating because i felt like he literally did not care about me and he would just keep making me feel like shit about being depressed. whenever we argued (which was very often) it would end in me locking myself in the bathroom, sobbing, nearly throwing up, while he was on his phone. i remember one specific argument started because he asked me if i would leave him for harry styles and i jokingly said yes (i am not and have never been attracted to harry styles). that argument escalated to the point where we almost broke up and he said to me “you should warn people before they fall in love with you that you are so mentally ill. because you’re always going to bring down the mental state of who you’re with”. he used my mental health against me like that a lot. whenever i would bring up something i wanted him to do or something that i didn’t like, he would call me needy, clingy, and say that he was trying his best but that i needed too much, that i was too much. all i wanted was reassurance. looking back, that’s all i ever asked for. whenever i would ask him if he loved me he would say “well i’m with you aren’t i?”. this is the same man who decided to go to vegas with his friends on my birthday after he promised he wouldn’t. this is the same man who said that he didn’t love me. the same one who said he wasn’t attracted to me. the same man who i would catch looking at other girl’s (some being his “friends”) provocative pictures on twitter. (this is definitely tmi so i’m just going to put a bunch of asterisks at the end of the tmi so you can skip there if you don’t want to read it) but there was a long period of time in our relationship where we had zero intimacy, and it wasn’t because of me. this fucked with my head a lot because i had this idea that because i was so emotional and needy that i could compensate physically. but when that stopped, my thoughts looked something like “the only thing i was useful for was sex and now he doesn’t even want that from me”.************whenever i remember this, a part of me thinks he might’ve been cheating on me during that time, but i have no proof so i guess we’ll never know. also during that time period, we were arguing over the same things over and over “it feels like you don’t love me” “but i’m hanging out with you” “that’s not the same as loving me” “you’re so fucking needy. and then you wonder why i don’t like coming over”. it was exhausting. we had the same friend group. and even our friends got so sick of us that they would tell me to break up with him. this went on for months until one day, on our one year anniversary, he told me that his plans for the day included playing video games. nothing else. that’s when i broke up with him. that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. i just couldn’t do it anymore.

we stayed friends afterwards in order to keep the peace within the friend group. after about a month, he told me he was going to do better. he said he was going to start going to the gym, and maybe even going to therapy, that he was going to eat better and live a better lifestyle for me. he said he was going to plan dates for us and treat me the way i deserved etc. very much vibes from that one euphoria scene. but i was done. maybe i didn’t communicate that well enough to him and that’s my fault. but i was really confused at the time and i didn’t know what i wanted. eventually we had a conversation and that’s when i told him that i was no longer interested in a relationship. i think i just didn’t believe him anymore. i didn’t believe that he would change for me or anyone else for that matter. through the entire relationship he was mean to me, he neglected me, belittled me, and overall made me feel like shit at worst and invisible at best. even when i would offer to plan things or suggest activities for us to do together, he would be disinterested the entire time or just cancel and make plans with his friends instead. and of course it was all my fault for one, flirting with his friend that one time, and two, just not being interesting enough. he made it feel like i wasn’t good enough, and at the same time victimized himself. he would tell me “nothing i do is ever good enough for you” while i was the one putting in all the effort in the relationship. then he would go “well why would i put in effort with you? remember when you were flirting with [redacted]? I still think about that and it fucks me up”. mind you, he would only bring this up whenever i brought up any concerns or issues. anyway, as you can tell it took me a really long time to realize that this relationship was toxic and unhealthy and i’m really proud of myself, again, for having the strength to leave and never look back. i think one of the reasons why it took me so long to realize that i was being mistreated was because everyone around him loved him. and to me it was hard to see how someone that was so well liked could be bad. so i felt like i was the problem. i felt like there was something wrong with me and if i just fixed that, then he would treat me better and love me and care about me. it took a lot of therapy to realize that he just wasn’t that into me. i was like a toy to him that he could just pay attention to when he was bored but ignore me the rest of the time. but then, when someone else showed interest in me he would suddenly care and be like “no she’s mine, you can’t have her”. he didn’t want me but he didn’t want anyone else to have me and that was the bottom line. that was the base off all the problems and toxicity that happened while we were together.

in conclusion, both of these men were awful in their own unique ways. i hope that by sharing this, someone who is in a similar situation will see it and identify these behaviors as something to watch out for. i hope that someone will see it and realize that they are not alone, and that they are not the first person to go through it, and that it gets better. these events all happened over two years ago and now i am in a beautiful and healthy relationship, i’m studying something that i am passionate about, and i am surrounded by people who love, care about, and support me. i am in a much happier place now and you will find that too, whoever you might be <3

#andianswers #i might’ve given myself a migraine with this one

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strawbeerossi · 11 months

Text

This Is Me Trying

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Ex-wife!Reader

Description: Spencer shows up at his ex wife’s door late in the night, riddled with guilt from years of their separation and needing to confide to her why he left her the first place.

Content Warning: Prison arc discussed but no spoilers, mention of PTSD, mentions of drug addiction/relapse, mention of violence, heart wrenching angst, crying, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, missionary, lovemaking, aftercare, happy ending.

Word count: 4.5K

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The last thing that she expected was to hear a firm knock against her apartment door. It was ten in the evening, who would need anything from her this late? Maybe it was Mrs. Martin, the sweet little old lady next door, wanting to drop off some freshly baked treat that she wanted her to try before she took it to one of her game nights. Which, Y/N had to admit, she loved when she’d come by with her signature chocolate chip brownies, she always made a heaping amount to share with her younger neighbor just because she expressed liking them one time.

She was approaching the front door. Using the peephole of the door, her heart sunk. Instead of seeing an older woman with a plate of treats in her hand, she was met with Spencer Reid.

It had been years since they talked last, the last time being a tearful Y/N begging her husband not to walk out the door, to stay and work out their marriage that she was afraid was starting to crumble into a thousand pieces. She could remember the bitterness, the hatred in his voice.

“Wait! Spencer, baby, please.” Y/N’s voice was hoarse from sobbing, her throat raw from having to yell over his loud voice just to get him to listen. “I know it’s hard but I need you to stay, we can work this out together. You know that. We always do.” Spencer was turning his head to face his wife, already packing his clothes away. “I don’t want to fucking stay. I don’t want your pity. Ever since I got home, you’re treating me like I’m some sort of child! I’m not!” His tone was laced with venom, enough to make the tears spring up in Y/N’s eyes again.

She knew prison would chip away at the Spencer she’d fallen in love with five years ago but she never expected things to go down like this. She’d done everything she could’ve thought of. She always made him some of his favorite dishes, she’d read to him, she’d hold him when he sobbed in her arms and relived the most traumatic experience he’d went through thus far. It was never enough.

He was different now. Irritable, temperamental, and he had a hard time composing his anger, not to mention that his once beautiful honey colored irises were dull, almost lifeless. He lost himself in prison, he wasn’t ever going to be the same. Instead of always greeting her with a hug and a smile after his days at the BAU or after cases, she was greeted to him starting to distance himself from her. It went from him coming home an hour late, to two hours, then three. She stopped making dinner, she stopped staying up to wait for him, she even stopped trying to reach out to him.

There was guilt, her brain rattled with so many what-ifs. If she left him alone more, would he have stayed with her? Would he have given her the same amount of love and dedication he’d once given her before? What could she have done to make him slowly begin to push her away, to serve her with fucking divorce papers?

Her tears stained the documents, her signature blurred out from how much she sobbed over the idea of losing the one real thing she’d ever known. No matter how much she wanted to hate him for his decision, she just couldn’t. Spencer had her heart, he took it with him out of the door when he left her, tucked away in his suitcase covered by the numerous suits and other necessities.

She was pulled out of her pain filled memories the moment she heard yet another knock. Was this a cruel joke? She was taking in a breath, collecting what little confidence she could manage to build up before she was unlocking the front door, her hand shaking from fear. As she was opening the door just enough to peak her head out, her lips were pursed in a fine line.

“Spencer.” Y/N spoke, her gaze firm on the man who had given up on her. “Hi, Y/N.” His voice was soft, a stark contrast to the tone of their last conversation. “Can I come in..?” He asked, though his hand was slowly resting against the front door as he pushed it open, Y/N taking a few steps back to grant him access. She should’ve slammed the door shut, she should’ve locked it and sent him on his way. Yet here she was, slowly closing the door as she invited him to make himself at home.

“What are you doing here?” It took a lot of courage for her to open her mouth, her arms slowly crossing over her chest. She wasn’t going to cry anymore, mainly because she was so tired of crying over him. She’d done it enough within the past few years, if anything, she should’ve been out of tears.

“I’m here to talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“Y/N. I haven’t been honest with you. Guilt has been eating away at me and I can’t help but feel shitty.”

You should.

She’d never say it out loud but judging by the face she made, Spencer already knew what went through her mind.

“I just want to apologize. You are owed that much. Whenever I got out of prison.. I was a different person entirely. I stopped putting much effort into any of my personal relationships..” He began, which before his ex wife could cut him off, he was looking up from his feet with glassy eyes. “It’s because I was getting comfort from.. Other influences. Dilaudid.”

Spencer’s last addictions never defined him throughout their entire relationship, in fact, she was proud of him. He’d been doing so good, the temptation coming up every now and then but she’d be there to push him, to give him so much love and support to try and curb the relapse that could occur.

“Drugs change the writing of neurotransmitters in your brain, which can lead to aggression or mood swings. That’s why I was always hostile towards you and why I didn’t want to be around you.” Spencer explained, eyes on the ground in shame while his hands were coming up to rest over his face. “I knew I had a problem, I did. There was one day when you were trying to get me to eat lunch and.. I wanted to hurt you.” His voice broke at the admission, unable to meet her gaze. “That made me realize that I had a problem. A problem that I couldn’t control. If I couldn’t control my emotions, I would get to the point where I couldn’t control my actions..”

Just the thought of that scared the hell out of him.

“I left because I didn’t want to hurt you. It would kill me if I ever did anything to you. I mean, I was already spiralling because of the vivid nightmares from prison. PTSD and drug use are a horrible combination, dangerous. I couldn’t risk hurting you.”

The explanation had hot Y/N like a ton of bricks. How could she not notice he had a relapse, she was supposed to be by his side and she couldn’t even fucking tell that he was struggling with impulse control as well as his emotions. “Why didn’t you tell me? Spencer, I could’ve helped you.” She whispered, stepping closer to her ex husband while slowly taking her hands in his.

“Because you didn’t deserve a damaged husband who would weigh you down. I can’t expect you to babysit me all day and night, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You have a career, you have friends, you have so much going for you. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if you threw your life away to essentially take care of me.” His words were barely above a whisper, as if the two had a risk of anyone listening in on their conversation.

“You are not damaged.” Y/N scolded softly while she was squeezing his hands slowly. “Spencer, I love you so much, I’ll always be here for you. Wife or not.” She said softly while her hand was now coming to rest gently against his cheek, as if he were fragile and one wrong move would shatter him like a stained glass window.

Spencer was finally meeting the irises that he couldn’t ever get out of his mind, the way there was a shine in them. Eyes were the window to the soul and hers reflected a beautiful, colorful soul and a strong fighting spirit she always carried with her. Even when she was broken down, that shine was there.

Her love was radiating onto him at the smallest touch, the man’s eyes closing briefly as if to compose himself. “I love you so much, Y/N. I will never be able to forgive myself for the way I pushed you away, the way I ended our marriage. I should’ve confided in you sooner. I just.. I was worried about you.” His words were genuine, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He whispered soon after.

If his pupils could be the shape of hearts, they would be. One thing about Y/N was that he adored her. He cherished her, took care of her. Even in the end when things went south, part of him still had that love that was locked away behind a crippling addiction that broke him down in the worst way possible. “When I wanted to just go back to using, I thought of you. How proud you’d be of me if I held off, how you’d tell me I did an amazing job getting back on track. You are my inspiration.” He whispered, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks, holding her face in his hands as his thumbs traced over her soft skin.

There was a soft smile gracing Y/N’s features. “I am so proud of you. It takes a lot to admit when you have a problem, it takes even more to better yourself. Even if I’m not fond of the way you went about it, I understand.” She was honest. She didn’t like how he had to divorce her and disappear from her life. Nobody in their right mind would be okay with that.

For the first time since he’d came inside, there was a content silence filling the living room. It was comfortable. For the first time, home felt like home. However as the both of them stayed within each other’s embrace, it wasn’t long before Spencer was leaning down to kiss her.

Their lips met in a bittersweet collision, as years of longing and unresolved emotions surged through their bodies. The kiss began tenderly, a delicate exploration of familiar territory, before gradually intensifying with the fiery passion that had once defined their relationship. In that moment, they momentarily forgot the pain that had driven them apart, reveling in the sheer magnetism that still bound them together. There was no more pain, no more wondering what had gone wrong.

Their tongues danced in a rhythm only they could understand, tasting the remnants of past love and the promise of a future reignited. As they reluctantly pulled away, their gaze locked, and they both knew that their love still burned strong, an everlasting flame that kept them bound together. After all they’d been through, the love and care was permanent.

While drawing in a breath, Y/N kept her gaze on Spencer before slowly running her hands up his chest. It wasn’t a suit tailored for him like she’d been so used to before, instead a casual cotton shirt. In a way, it was comforting. He thought about her at times where he wasn’t chasing evil men and women on cases, when instead he was home at.. Well, wherever he lived now.

“Do you want to stay tonight?” She asked after a moment, her words coming out slow and her tone delicate, as if she had to worry about scaring him off if she was anything but. “I always sleep so much better with you..” She added on soon after while playing with a loose thread on the shirt, almost as if she had to distract herself from the way her heart was nearly beating out of her chest.

It gave her flashbacks to when she and Spencer had first started dating, the both of them being soft with each other. The way that they’d both be nervous to ask the other to stay the night or when they’d be laying together and spoil each other in the wonders of intimate touch, their lips moving in sync.

That seemed so long ago now.

“Yes,” Spencer responded, not needing to spare a second thought. “I’d love to.” His own heart was racing, the feeling of being home slowly coming back to him. The comfort of Y/N being home, willing to hold him when he needed her. Tonight, he knew he needed her. In more ways than one.

Without a passing thought, the woman was being lifted into his arms while Spencer was reattaching their lips. There was love and need, yearning for the soft touch that they once shared. With the feeling of fingers tangling in his longer hair, he was almost running back to the bedroom that he’d remembered so well.

Without breaking the contact of their lips, Spencer was leaning down while carefully placing Y/N on her back, as if she was breakable. She needed to be handled with care, with appreciation. Not anyone would accept their ex husband despite his faults or listen to him when he’s explaining why he left. Most women would probably slam the door in his face. Not Y/N. Not the woman with a heart of gold. He didn’t deserve her love but she was willing to continue serving it to him.

Once she was on her back, Spencer was slowly pulling away. “I love you.” He whispered, the words just falling out of his mouth, reverting back to the ways that once were. The nights where they’d lay in the darkness, embracing one another during lazy post-coital conversations before falling asleep in those same positions.

“I love you so much.” He repeated as he felt like she needed to know his feelings never changed. His lips began to trail down her neck, his hands running down the silk nightgown. “I love you.” Y/N finally whispered in return, her head relaxing in her pillow while her eyes were fluttered shut, melting at each placed kiss.

Spencer let his teeth graze the now burning skin of her neck, eliciting a beautiful moan to fall from the woman’s lips.

This was heaven.

His lips were moving from her neck soon after that, his head lifting while the two were interlocking in a shared loving gaze. “You can keep going, you know.” She whispered, a little giggle leaving her lips at the way his eyes glistened in the soft lighting of the bedside lamp at her urging him to continue.

Spencer’s fingers were coming up to the flimsy straps of the nightgown, slowly pulling them from her arms while leaning down to trail kisses along her right shoulder. His hands were working to slowly tug the sleep garment off, almost as if he had to carefully unwrap a present to preserve the wrapping paper. He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted her to see how much he truly did love and miss her.

He’d take care of her tonight.

Once she lifted her hips to assist in discarding the nightgown, he was drinking in the sight of the near bare woman in front of him.

Spencer had eidetic memory, however, when it came to Y/N’s body, you’d think it was his first time seeing it. The way his cheeks would flush, the way he’d revert back to being the shy man who couldn’t help but stare as if she were a beautiful oil painting hanging in one of the highest esteemed art galleries in Paris, France.

He was now sitting between her open legs, eyes scanning over her body as his large hands were slowly running up her inner thighs. “I’ve missed you, so much.” He spoke, gaze now moving to the beautiful smile that was spreading across her face. “I’m glad you’re here.” She spoke softly, the two basking in the moment. There was no rush, no. Instead, they were enjoying the intimacy of soft touches, admiring bodies, sharing longing glances.

“May I?” He asked, fingers now getting dangerously close to the place where she needed him most.

“Of course.” Her head nodded, a blush on her face.

The panties she had on had a sizeable wet patch in the center of them, her body reacting so positively to his kisses, his touch, everything. His fingers were slowly running over her clothed cunt, electricity shooting through her body at the mere touch.

“My beautiful girl.” His voice was husky now, fingers looping in the waistband of her panties before he was tugging them down her thighs, a groan ripping from his throat once he could see her glistening pussy, sticky with arousal. “God, I love you.” He repeated for what felt like the millionth time in the night.

Spencer was getting up momentarily, pulling his shirt over his head before discarding his pants as well, leaving him in his boxers. As he’d gotten onto the bed, he was now laying between her thighs, hips pressed into the bed for when he ultimately needed relief of his own.

With one hand keeping her plush thighs apart, his tongue was now licking a stripe up her pussy, collecting just a taste of her arousal. Hearing her shaky breath from above him was enough to encourage his movements. After a few more long and teasing licks, his fingers were coming up to spread her puffy labia apart, his lips blowing cool air while the woman was mewling from pleasure, goosebumps spreading across her skin.

He ate like a man starved, his tongue lapping up all she had to offer to him, like eating one of the ripest fruits on the vine that was bursting with more flavor and sweetness after being freshly pulled from the tree branch. His chin was coated in her glistening juices, his nose brushing against her clit while his tongue was focused on swiping over her velvety walls.

With the sounds of pornographic moans filling the room along with the way her fingernails were digging in his scalp, it became to a point where Spencer was desperate for relief, his hips rocking against the mattress while he was focused on bringing the woman to her peak. As soon as he could feel her thighs begin to shake and her words were more incoherent, he knew what was to come next.

It wasn’t long though until he was pulling away, chuckling at the way she was desperately clenching around nothing as soon as he pulled away. “Hold on, pretty girl.” He purred, getting his fingers lubed up with his own spit before he was plunging them into the woman, a low moan leaving his lips as she was greedily clenching around his digits and pulling them in more.

“There we go.” He praised, the two fingers being thrusted inside of her needy core.

“I’m gonna— oh fuck, Spencer.” Y/N breathed out as her eyes were squeezing shut, her words encouraging him to fuck her faster with his fingers. She could feel the coil tightening in her stomach, her moans and whimpers of his name falling steadily from her lips.

All it took was him curling his fingers and pushing against her spongy sweet spot before she was cumming around his fingers, her hips rocking steadily against Spencer’s hand as she was doing her best to catch her breath, chest rising and falling rapidly.

As she’s ridden out the high, Spencer’s hair was being tugged in a gesture that was telling him move your ass, Reid.

So he was nearly stumbling to crawl up to hover over her again, the two attaching their lips in a much needed, more messy kiss than before. “Please,” She mumbled against his lips, making Spencer pull away. “Please what?” He asked, needing to hear her say it.

“I need you.”

Those words had his already hard cock aching in his boxers, making him stumble a bit just to get them down his legs before they were being tossed with the rest of the clothes in the bedroom.

“I don’t have a condom.” Spencer spoke, letting out a hiss of pleasure from the feeling of her hand wrapping around his cock to give it a few tugs. “We don’t need one. I don’t care right now.” Her voice came out in a desperate tone, making the man nod as he was letting her line up his tip with her leaking mound.

He was pushing into her slowly, sinking all the way to the hilt while the two let out a collective moan, Spencer’s head falling against Y/N’s shoulder as he let his eyes flutter shut, kisses being sponged to her shoulders as he gave her a minute. The way her hands were gripping onto him was a big indicator that just like himself, she’d probably not really gotten much action in a while.

“I’m ready.” She whispered, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she was practically hugging him close. “I’ll go slow.” He spoke in return, now lifting his head to smear their lips against one another’s.

Spencer loved slow and intimate sex, the way they were pressed flush against one another, drinking each others moans while the world slowly stood still. His hips were thrusting at a steady pace, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his waist just to try and bury him impossibly deeper inside of her.

It was the ultimate form of love. Being able to savor one another, enjoy the closeness. There were times in the past where the two would talk and even giggle with one another while his cock was buried inside of her. It was comforting in its own odd way.

Tonight though, there wasn’t much talking. Instead there was soft, loving kisses, the mixture of moans and groans falling between the both of them, as well as the sound of the bed squeaking along with each thrust that the man made.

There was nothing but love in that bedroom, the two whispering sweet nothings to one another and making promises that would fully be fulfilled going forward. This was going to be the start of something beautiful, that was something the two were confident of.

“I’m close,” Spencer’s words were being muffled into Y/N’s mouth, the woman slowly pulling out of their shared kiss while she was bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks. “Me too, don’t stop.” Her words were soft, a moan leaving her lips as she was letting her eyes flutter shut, head falling back against the mattress as she could feel her stomach tightening again.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Fuck.” His words slurring together as he brought one hand between their bodies, his thumb swiping over her clit in order to have her cum first. He prided himself on pleasuring her first and foremost, himself being mostly an afterthought.

As the warmth of her orgasm was washing over her, Y/N was hugging him as close as she could get him while a soft cry of the male’s name slipped from her lips. Chasing her orgasm, it wasn’t long until Spencer was letting go, a few more thrusts doing the trick as his warm cum was filling her to the brim. The feeling had the woman shuddering in pleasure.

With a thin layer of sweat coating their skin and their bodies still intertwined, Spencer was turning his attention down to the woman who he felt an intense and burning love for. “I promise you that I am not going anywhere this time. I’m tired of fighting M on my own.” His words were soft, his breathing still uneven. “I love you and I never want to be away from you like that again..”

“I love you so much more. You know that I’m always here for you, right? No matter what you’re struggling with. We are supposed to always be by each other’s sides. I made that promise to you and I never intend on breaking it.” Y/N assured.

“How about we to get cleaned up?” The make suggested, forcing himself to move away from the warmth of her embrace briefly. Instead of letting her get up though, Spencer’s hand was wrapping around her ankle before he was playfully pulling her to the end of the bed, making the woman laugh as she was being lifted in his arms.

“You could’ve broke my leg!” She gasped, a teasing tone chasing the words as she was letting her arms wrap around his shoulders, lips pressing kisses across his face.

A she was carefully sitting her on the edge of the tub, Spencer was turning on the faucet. After he’d gotten the water warm enough for the both of them, he’d retrieved the plug for the drain. Approaching the bathroom cabinet, he was kneeling down and rummaging until he was grinning triumphantly as he was retrieving a bottle of bubble bath soap, holding it up. “I knew you’d never get rid of this. As dumb as it sounds, I was so pissed because I didn’t take this with me.”

After putting a generous amount of the soap in the tub and watching it foam up, he was waiting until the tub was filled to their liking until he was turning off the water. He was the first to step in, getting comfortable before holding his hand out to help Y/N get in, a smile on his face. Even if it was a little awkward considering he was a tall guy in a small tub, they managed to get comfortable together with her on his lap.

One of her hands was collecting a bit of bubbles from the water before she was moving to place them over his face, a little laugh leaving her lips as she’d given him a bit of a bubble beard. “How old are we?” Spencer asked teasingly as he was doing the same thing with her, the two unable to help the soft laugh filling the bathroom.

“So, I have a legitimate question,” Spencer began while leaning back against the tub, a smile on his face. “Does this mean we have to get married again?”

The question made Y/N pull a face as she was pondering over the question. He had a point. How did this work?

“I say yes. Only because I think you owe me a much bigger wedding this time.” She joked, making the male laugh.

“My queen gets whatever she wants.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid smut

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starberryes · 2 years

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don't you (forget about me) | steve harrington x reader

“Oh, great, she’s here,” Steve says, stepping away from the door. "First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking here—” Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—" "You did not just roll your eyes at me—” Dustin sighs. "Here they go." (or: You've always thought Steve Harrington was a weirdo. When you find out you might be in terrible danger, he might be just what you need.)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader (she/her pronouns used), lots of henderson siblings bonding <3

words: 13.9k

a/n: gif by @dailysteveharrington. thank you all for being patient and i hope you all like it<3 i loved this season and i love steve so i hope you enjoy this lil enemies to lovers fic. this fic is a one shot, but let me know if you'd like a sequel once vol 2 is out bc its a bit of an open, ambiguous ending ;) also some fun facts before this fic starts: dustin's dad appears at will's funeral in s1 and there are several theories about him-- officially, he and dustin's mother are divorced in canon. i'll explore that in this fic. ST4 SPOILERS. this is set in season 4 ep 3 "the monster and the superhero" and follows vol 1 canon also sorry if this doesnt follow canon pretty well i mostly did it from memory cause the wiki still isnt fully updated 💀

disclaimer: this fic discusses the topic of an absent parent, please proceed with caution if this is hurtful to you. also warning for canon typical violence and cursing. english is not my first language so please let me know if there are any mistakes.

📼 NOW PLAYING: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Mind

Your mother had always been slightly overbearing and fearful, but the murder of Chrissy Cunnigham you think might actually kill her. Or at least will force her to lock you in your bedroom and flush the key down the toilet.

“You can’t go anywhere without telling me,” your mother tells you over breakfast, worriedly overcooking her bacon. “You hear me? I don’t want you running around town without me knowing. Or better yet, don’t go anywhere at all!”

You glare at Dustin’s chair, where your brother is munching on toast and eggs, hoping your mother takes the hint. She does, and so she shakes her head and says, “Dustin’s different.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Maybe this killer has a thing for pretty girls,” your mother shakes her head, shivering. “Chrissy Cunningham was such a nice and pretty girl, right your age.”

“You don’t know what that killer was thinking!” You groan. “Why can Dustin leave but I can’t?!”

“Dustin’s not an eighteen year old girl with an easily breakable neck.”

“He’s easier to man-handle!”

Dustin frowns, finally looking up from his breakfast. “I’m not!”

”Besides, do you even know where he was last night?” You ignore your brother’s protests, choosing to point at him as he scoffs in offense. “I bet you don’t, because he’s always sneaking out!”

“I’m not always sneaking out!”

“I try my best with you, Dusty,” she sighs, finally sitting down. “But your sister is right, you’re difficult to keep track of. You’re always running around, like those little legs have minds of their own.” She points the spoon she was using for her coffee at your face. “Don’t you throw that in my face, (Y/N).”

“Mom, you’re right,” you nod, sipping your orange juice, trying to appeal to her soft spot. “He is difficult to keep track off, and there’s a dangerous killer on the loose. How about I keep track of him? Make sure he’s not getting into any trouble, hm? I’ll make sure we’re always safe, together.”

Of course, you were planning on bolting as soon as you were out of your mom’s sight. You mom’s cat Tews meows somewhere across the room, as if he knows not to trust you. That damned furball.

“What the fuck? No!”

“Dusty! Language.”

“Mom,” Dustin says, exasperated. “I don’t need a babysitter. Much less a babysitter that’s also my annoying older sister.”

“No, you have Steve Harrington for that,” you mutter under your breath, and Dustin manages to kick you under the table. You glare at your little brother, then turn to address your mom once again. “I promise we’ll stay together. I know— no, I understand that it’s scary out there right now, but I can take care of myself. And Dustin. You have to trust me.”

“I trust you. It’s the murderer I don’t trust.”

“Mom—”

“Let me finish,” she stares pointedly at you, and you promptly shut up. “I don’t want you two sneaking out. But, it’ll make me feel better if the both of you are together.”

Dustin covers his face with his hands. “Shit.”

“Yes!” You squeal. You stick out your tongue at him, and he rolls his eyes. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Dusty.”

“Screw you.”

“Dusty, it’ll be fun. (Y/N), don’t taunt your little brother,” your mom scolds both of you into silence. “It’ll be like old times, won’t it? Aw, you two used to be thick as thieves back then.”

Dustin sighs, picking at his toast absent-mindedly. “Was there a murderer on the loose back then too?”

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

After breakfast, you give Dustin a ride until you arrive in a neighborhood that is most definitely not Lucas Sinclair’s like he told you it would be. You turn to stare at your brother before you unlock the car’s door, confused.

“Where are we?”

Dustin looks at your shoes. “I told you. Lucas’s.”

“Okay, you might lie to me whenever you want, just not to my actual face, Dustin.” You roll your eyes, and he mirrors you. “Seriously, why did you make me come all the way down here?”

“Why do you care?”

“I know we’re doing this to get mom off our backs, but there is actually a killer on the loose,” you say. “So, excuse me if I’m also a little wary about dropping you off at unknown locations, or whatever.”

“Fine,” Dustin sighs. “I’m here to see Max and Steve.”

“Steve?”

“Harrington.”

You blink at him. “Fucking Steve Harrington?”

“See?” Dustin rolls his eyes again. “This is why I didn’t tell you! You are extremely uncool about Steve, you know.”

“I’m not!” You try not to dwell about how defensive you sound even to yourself. “I’m extremely cool about him. I’m extremely cool about the fact you hang out with that douchebag with stupid hair.”

“He’s not a douchebag! I don’t get why you hate him so much.”

Because you remember him and his friends making fun of you all throughout High School, his sneering and stupid stares. Like your brother, you’d never fit in— you never liked going to parties or drinking and you never made an effort to be liked by him and his group of popular dorks, instead you spent most of your days in the library, reading, hiding from Steve and his friends. Whatever honorable things Dustin saw in Steve Harrington you think he might have imagined them.

Now, in your last year of High School and with Steve becoming a social pariah, you don’t have to hide the fact that you still dislike Steve as much as you did back when he was still King Steve. Steve, for however much Dustin insists that he’s changed, upon first meeting you had tried to sweet talk you as if he didn’t know who you were. And you had barely kept it together enough to tell him to fuck off. Ever since then, you and Steve Harrington had hated each other’s guts. Your mutual dislike of each other is not lost on Dustin, who continues to mostly ignore it and tiptoe around it as best as he can.

“He’s not not a douchebag,” You murmur. “Why is he hanging out with two fourteen year olds during spring break? Isn’t the barf bag, like, supposed to be in college, going to frat parties, having a life of his own?”

Dustin doesn’t appreciate the way you talk about him, clearly, but he still replies, albeit unhappily. “He’s helping me with something.”

“With what?”

Before Dustin can respond, someone knocks on Dustin’s window. You jump, surprised, but it’s just Steve and Dustin’s friend redhead Max, looking bored and impatient. You groan and reach over Dustin’s seat to roll the window down.

“Do you mind?” You say to Steve. “We’re talking.”

“Oh, great, she’s here,” Steve says, stepping away from the door.

"First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. You ignore Dustin’s groan. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking here—”

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—"

"You did not just roll your eyes at me—”

Dustin sighs. "Here they go."

“I did not roll my eyes—”

“You absolutely did!”

“There was something in my eyes.”

“That something was lies!”

“Jesus fuck,” Steve finally throws his arms up in exasperation and turns to your brother, ignoring your insults. “You done talking to your lovely sister there, Henderson? We got a counselor to see.”

“What?” You frown at Dustin, irritation immediately melting into concern. “What’s he talking about?”

“Steve, shut your mouth,” Dustin glares at Steve, who shrugs and finally steps away from the car. “Nothing, (Y/N), seriously. See you later?”

“No.” You shake your head. “What does he mean a counselor? Are you seeing Ms Kelly?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise. It’s—” he looks like he’s scrambling to think of an excuse, then his eyes land on Max. Something flashes across her face and she speaks next.

“It’s for me.” she says, “Chrissy died in my neighborhood.”

“She’s kind of freaking out,” Dustin says, and when you finally turn to look at Max you realize how tense she is, her shoulders square, with her lips forming a straight line.

“Oh. That sucks. Hey, Max.”

“Hey,” she greets, awkwardly. It’s part of her charm, you think.

“See?” Dustin asks. “Can I go now?”

You nod, a little shaken up for some reason. Maybe Chrissy’s murder still made you feel slightly ill, and the mention of it made you feel even worse. You couldn’t imagine what Max might be going through. It didn’t help that they had found another body this morning, either.

“Ye— yeah. Sorry. I hope everything’s alright, Max.”

“Yeah,” she nods.

Dustin nods to the door. “Can you unlock the car, then?”

You wordlessly comply, and as your little brother steps out of your mom’s blue Ford Cortina, you talk to Max once again. “Ms Kelly is great help. I’m sure she’ll make you feel better. She really helped me this year, you know, she’s a great listener.”

“Yeah, I know,” Max says. “I’ve been thinking about seeing her for a while, a—actually. I’ve heard she’s well… you know… fine, or whatever.”

“Hey, there’s no shame in that,” you shrug. “Lots of people go to see Ms Kelly… Actually, now that you mention it, Fred Benson, the guy they found this morning, was seeing Ms Kelly too. And Chrissy Cunningham.”

Dustin pauses before closing the car door. “What do you mean?”

You blink, slightly confused as to why you’d even bring it up. “I’ve seen them in Ms Kelly’s office before. I’m not sure why I’m even mentioning it, sorry.”

“No, no, (Y/N), that’s…” Dustin says, then doesn’t finish. “You’ve been seeing Ms Kelly too?”

“Yeah,” you nod, a little ashamed. You think about telling Dustin about everything that’s been going on, the nightmares, the guilt— but then you glance at his friends looking expectantly at him and cower. So you don’t continue.

It’s Steve who breaks the silence. “Henderson, chop chop, let’s go.”

“I’ll see you at home?” Dustin says, a little softer.

“Yeah, yeah. I was gonna go to Dinah’s near Ave Park, but do you think you’ll need a ride later?”

“Steve’s got his car,” he says. “Don’t wait up, okay?”

You nod, watching him leave.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

It’s around eight PM, and Dinah is painting her toenails as you skim through one of her books, the soft hum of the TV in the background, entering through the open bedroom door. Her parents are watching the news, the news anchors are urging people to stay home and to lock their doors to be safe of this new serial killer.

Dinah’s house is your usual hangout spot beside your own. You don’t have many other friends, and there’s only so many times you can force Dustin to watch The Breakfast Club before he’s fighting you for the remote.

“It was all Matty could talk about,” Dinah continues to rant. “I can’t stand this murder talk any longer! I can only hear about Chrissy Cunningham’s missing eyeballs so many times, (Y/N), it’s way too fucking gruesome, but it’s all everyone in this town seems to care about.”

“It’s a pretty pressing issue,” when Dinah glares, you shrug. “I’m just saying! You know I agree with you. I don’t want to hear about it anymore.”

“Chrissy was always so nice, wasn’t she?” Dinah shakes her head, putting her nail polish back in her nightstand, then wraps her arms around her legs, hugging herself. “And Fred had a future in front of him. It’s so unfair. They had a family that loved them.”

“Dinah, I really don’t wanna talk about it,” you say, feeling yourself shiver. You don’t want to think about poor Fred or Chrissy, or the families mourning them. You try to focus on the book in your hands, but the words start blurring together, becoming harder and harder to read.

You blink, confused, then realize Dinah is still talking.

“It’s the truth, isn’t it? I think about their dads too. Chrissy’s dad was crying so much at her wake. Do you think your dad would ever cry for you like that?”

You finally snap to look back at your friend. She’s staring at you like you’re small, like an insect she could stomp on. You’ve never seen her black eyes seem so soulless, so empty.

“Maybe they’ll be tears of joy, don’t you think? After all, weren’t you the one who made him walk away?” She tilts her head to the side, a sneer forming in her lips. “They could be a family without you.”

There’s something wrong in Dinah’s eyes. There’s something wrong about all of this, but you can’t point to what, where are you, when, why…what…?

When you blink, Dinah’s eyes look normal again.

“(Y/N),” She asks, frowning. “Are you there?”

You shake your head. What the fuck was all that?

“What?”

“You were staring at me like you weren’t all here,” she explains, grimacing. “Where did you go just now?”

“Sorry…” When you speak you feel a dull ache around your temple, and you lift a hand to rest against it, trying to soothe the pain aimlessly. “I think I need some painkillers or something, my head’s killing me.”

“Again?”

“Yeah,” even before spring break you had confided in your friend about the headaches and the nightmares— you never told her why, but she at least knew you were seeing Ms Kelly.

Dinah stands up, careful not to stain the carpet with her fresh black nail polish. “I’ll ask my dad for some Tylenol. Stay here, I’ll be back in a sec.”

Before Dinah is out the door she’s interrupted by the doorbell, which rings once, twice, three times and more. Dinah frowns, as her dad yells I’m coming, Jesus!

“Someone’s impatient…” you murmur, hand still resting on your temple.

“Hey,” Dinah, who has always had great hearing, says. “I think it’s your brother.”

You frown, and when Dinah’s father confirms it’s your brother by yelling out that It’s little Henderson!, you and Dinah head downstairs to find a heavy breathing Dustin, Max, Lucas and even Steve Harrington, looking as if they just ran a marathon.

Dustin’s eyes land on you. “(Y/N)!”

“Dustin?” you say, “What are you doing here? You need a ride ho—?”

Dustin runs to hug you by the waist, almost knocking the air out of you.

“Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Is your nose bleeding? Do you feel—?”

“Woah, Dustin,” you don’t know what to do with your hands— you and Dustin hadn’t hugged since he turned twelve and he and you both deemed it lame. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

Dustin finally lets go of your waist to grab you by the face and inspect it properly. He roughly pulls your face down and tries to pull up your nose to look at your nostrils. “No nosebleed yet?”

Steve tries to stop him. “Dustin, buddy—”

Lucas adds a sustancial, “Dude.”

“Dustin!” you push his hands off your face, feeling your cheeks heat up when you notice everyone looking at you. “What the hell are you doing?”

Your brother opens his mouth to speak, but then seems to notice Dinah behind you and seems to think better of it. “We need to talk,” he says instead, “Like, right now.”

“Right now?” You ask. “I already told Dinah’s mom I’m staying for dinner. Dustin, what the hell is going on with you?”

Dinah clears her throat. “I’m… just gonna go get that Tylenol.”

“Tylenol?” Dustin asks when she walks away. “What for?”

“I have a headache.”

“Shit,” Max says, still by the door frame with Lucas and Steve.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dustin curses, deep in thought. “It’s already started.”

“What?” You ask as Dustin starts pacing back and forth.

“We need to find out how to stop this right fucking now,” Dustin starts pacing back and forth. “Think, everyone.”

“Maybe Robin and Nancy found something in the library,” Steve offers.

“Yeah,” Lucas nods. “C’mon, man. Let’s go find them.”

“Okay, yeah. Okay, okay.” Dustin calms himself down, manages to stop his pacing. “Let’s go wait for them at the Wheeler’s. (Y/N), let’s go.”

You throw your hands up in disbelief. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?”

“(Y/N),” Dustin says, his voice unfaltering. Dustin is never serious about much, and this renders you speechless. “I need you to listen to me for once in your goddamn life, okay? We need to go. Now.”

“Okay, Jesus,” you say finally. “Dinah’s mom is making Lasagna so this better be worth it, Dustin.”

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

On the way to Nancy Wheeler’s house, you learn two things: One, Dustin knows where a serial killer might be hiding, and two, your brother thinks you’re cursed and are going to die in, give or take, twenty four hours.

You glare at Steve Harrington in the rearview mirror. “What the fuck have you been giving him?”

“I’m serious!” Dustin yells. “I knew you wouldn’t fucking believe me.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, because he looks genuinely frustrated, but a second dimension and a supervillain? Does your brother think you’re stupid? Just how many movies has he been watching? “I just think D&D might actually be getting to your head, Dustin. There’s no way what you just told me is real.”

“Lucas and Max know it’s real too!”

Both of them nod furiously.

“Are the other two fourteen year olds your only source?”

“Steve too!”

Steve winks at you through the rearview mirror.

“Even worse,” you say.

“Listen,” Lucas tries to reason when Dustin groans in frustration, cursing under his breath at you. “I know this sounds absolutely crazy, I wouldn’t believe it either. But I promise you it’s all true, and if we don’t do something soon about it you’ll end up like Chrissy and Fred.”

An involuntary chill runs down your spine every time you think about them.

“Guys,” you say, slowly, “I know things are scary right now, but I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for the murders besides a demon supervillain.”

“I didn’t believe it at first either,” Max shakes her head. “Not until I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Didn’t Ms Kelly’s file say the others who were cursed were also having hallucinations?” Steve asks the kids, looking for a place to park. “So, have you gotten any weird visions lately?”

Hallucinations? You think back, but can’t seem to pinpoint anything similar to that. Except tonight at Dinah’s place, before Dustin and the rest had rung the doorbell. Suddenly you grow a little paler, uncomfortable at the memory being brought back. That had been weird, but you were exhausted and knowing a serial killer, Eddie Munson, who apparently your brother knew, was out there still was making you restless.

“I wouldn’t really call them visions,” you murmur.

“Shit,” Dustin breathes, looking at you with wide eyes. “It’s spreading faster.”

“Listen, Dustin, I may be going through some shit lately, but I promise you I’m okay. I just need some painkillers for my head, seriously.”

“(Y/N)!” Your brother takes you by the shoulders and shakes you. “Your life is in imminent danger! You don’t need painkillers!”

“I do if you keep shaking me like a ragdoll!”

“Listen,” Lucas says, grabbing Dustin and prying him off you despite his protests. “Just stay with us tonight, okay? We’ll sleep at the Wheeler’s and it’ll make Dustin feel better, right? We’re all tired.”

“Dude—”

Lucas cuts Dustin off and whispers, “We’ll wait for what Nancy and Robin have to say and then figure out how to convince her later, yeah?”

Dustin sighs. “This was so much easier when El had her powers.”

“So yeah? You’ll stay the night?” Lucas asks, hopeful.

You see all three of the kids staring at you and cave in. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.” You say, at the same time Steve parks right in front of the Wheeler residence. Before you can even step out of the car another car pulls over by the garage and Nancy Wheeler and another girl you don’t know step out of it.

“Nance, Robin!” Steve exclaims as he stops the car and steps out. “Had fun at the library? I sure didn’t.”

“It went well, I think—”

“We have a situation,” Dustin is quick to interrupt, reaching over your space and popping his head out from the open window. “It’s my sister. We think Vecna cursed her.”

“Whatever that means,” you mumble, getting out of the car, Dustin trailing behind you and slamming the door shut.

“She doesn’t believe us,” Max explains.

“Well, I personally would be more weirded out if she did,” The girl you don’t know shrugs a little. You recognize her now— she worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last summer before the fire at Starcourt, and now works at Family Video. You’ve spoken a bit with her before.

“She’s been having visions, headaches, nosebleeds,” Dustin continues, “like Fred and Chrissy were, according to Ms Kelly’s files. I think Vecna is preying on vulnerable people, people dealing with...” he looks at you for a second, then back at the girls, settling on saying: “Some shit.”

“We found some articles about Victor Creel at the library,” Nancy says, then motions at the house with her chin. “Let’s talk inside.”

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

Nancy and Robin turn out to be as crazy as the rest of them— they tell the story of Victor Creel, infamous in Hawkins for murdering his entire family, and about how he was supposedly possesed by the devil according to some conspiracy newspaper. They want to talk to Victor, but the problem is that he’s now a patient at Pennhurst Mental Hospital and completely unreachable to the public. They plan to go first thing in the morning and the rest of the group seems to agree.

“We’ll need a disguise,” is Nancy’s big plan.

You never quite get that Tylenol, because the strongest thing Ms Wheeler has is green tea. You think everyone’s lost their goddamned minds.

“So what do you want me to do while all of you plan?” You ask, sitting on the couch. Nancy and Robin leave to Nancy’s room. Max and Lucas are by the desk in the corner speaking softly, Dustin is pacing around the room impatiently as he usually does when he’s this restless, while Steve is sitting on the couch beside you, playing with Dustin’s (or is it Mike’s?) walkie-talkie. “Am I allowed to eat something? Because I’m starving.”

Dustin snatches the walkie-talkie from Steve’s hand. “You’re gonna break that.”

Dustin’s, then.

“We don’t know yet,” Lucas says, walking over to where you are, holding Max’s hand gently. “We’re hoping the girls find out something from Victor. In the meantime…”

“You can eat,” Steve concludes. “... Right?”

“Right,” Max nods.

“We have to do something soon,” Dustin’s the most anxious you’ve ever seen him, even before you took him to see The Empire Strikes Back. “We don’t know how much time you even have once the visions and all the hallucinations start. We said twenty four hours but we can’t be sure.”

“If it helps, they started today. At Dinah’s.”

“You snapped out of it, right?” When you nod, Steve shrugs. “Henderson, I think we have time to order some pizza, at least.”

“And a movie?” You ask, finally relaxing into the couch. You toss away your shoes and hug them to your chest. “Does Mike have The Breakfast Club somewhere around here?”

“Not that movie again,” Dustin groans.

You throw a pillow at your brother, who manages to dodge it easily. “It’s a great movie!”

“It lost its charm after the thirteen time you forced me to watch it with you.”

“The Breakfast Club?” Steve asks aloud. “(Y/N) Henderson is obsessed with The Breakfast Club? Is that why Dustin is always renting it at Family Video?”

Dustin huffs, offended. “Why else would I want to rent that stupid movie?”

“Molly Ringwald,” Steve answers, at the same time you yell out, “It’s not stupid!”

When Nancy comes downstairs she informs you that sadly no, she doesn’t have The Breakfast Club, but that she should. She does have the soundtrack, however, and you think about asking to borrow it tomorrow before she goes back upstairs to order a pizza.

A while later it’s almost midnight, everyone around you is tired, except maybe for Dustin, but the majority wins and you all decide getting some sleep is the best option. You agree, but know that you’re probably not getting any sleep tonight, either; you’ve been having nightmares every night for the past few days and you don’t believe today is going to be any different.

When the lights go off and everyone is already starting to doze off, Dustin is quick to turn his flashlight on.

“Dude! Turn that off!” Steve moans, launching a pillow straight into his face. Dustin doesn’t dodge this one this time, much to Robin and Steve’s satisfaction, who chuckle lightly.

“C’mon, Dustin, what the hell?” Lucas groans.

“Shut up! I’m trying to see if I can find something else in Ms Kelly’s files!”

“Dude,” Max sighs, “you’ve read them each four times already.”

“You won’t be able to find anything if you’re exhausted,” Nancy tries more softly. “Just try to sleep for a bit, okay?”

“Dustin, c’mon,” you reach for his hand— it’s a bit uncomfortable from your position on the couch and his on the floor, but you do it anyway. That seems to soothe him slightly, to see you still offering comfort, like you’re still yourself. He manages a weak nod, and he squeezes your hand slightly before turning the flashlight off.

After a few minutes, Dustin starts snoring loudly. Steve, who you’re unfortunately stuck sharing the couch with, chuckles.

“He’s a good kid,” he says.

“Yeah,” you can’t help but agree. You wouldn’t trade your dork brother for anything. “He’s great. When he was little, he used to wet his bed all time after watching scary movies with me, and he’d wake me up to change his sheets so my dad wouldn’t yell at him for ruining them.”

“Steve raises a silent eyebrow at you, sounding amused. “And you actually did that?”

“I forced him to watch them. I felt bad,” you smile at the memory. “He would offer to wash the dishes for me, though.”

“Your moral compass is stronger than mine,” he hums.

“You know, he…” you start, unsure if Dustin would be upset if you shared this, then decide it’s not as embarrassing as telling him he used to wet his bed, and continue, “he really admires you. God knows why, Harrington, but he worships the ground you walk on.”

“Henderson?” He asks, a little in disbelief. “I don’t know—”

“I’m serious, Harrington. He loves you,” You hoped you didn’t sound jealous. There had been a time where you thought Steve was almost a replacement for you as an older sibling, but as time went on you realized how important Steve was to him.

“Well. I’m pretty loveable.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure.”

“He’s pretty loveable, too,” Steve says after a few beats of silence, more softly now. “I don’t have any siblings, did you know that? So it’s… uhm, really cool to have him around. Even if he’s kind of a little shit sometimes.”

“Such a little shit,” you agree.

The rest of the group seems to be asleep already, or maybe they don’t care about the conversation enough to join you. Steve starts telling you about the time Dustin burrowed his hair gel and almost set fire to his bathroom, and you have to cover your mouth to stifle your giggles.

It’s not long before you start to feel abnormally cold, and can’t keep your body from trembling. Steve’s gentle voice is gone. The room is dark around you, and realizing that you must’ve fallen asleep while talking with Steve at some point, you hug yourself trying to seek some warmth. You try to grab a blanket from somewhere. Jesus, it’s spring for fuck’s sake, it shouldn’t be this cold. But you realize that despite the darkness you can see, and when you look up at the ceiling, you find a grandfather clock that most definitely doesn’t belong in the Wheeler’s basement.

“(Y/N).”

The voice calling your name is unfamiliar and it makes you feel ill almost immediately, like your stomach has turned into nothing but knots. You try to speak, to ask who it is, but nothing comes out, you can barely even breathe.

“Do you think you could ever keep living with this guilt?” The voice asks, somehow you feel as if the voice is right behind you, whispering into your ear. It’s like nails scraping against chalkboard in your eardrums. “Knowing what you did to your family?”

You want to turn around and find the voice, but you can’t, you can’t, you can’t. The clock is ticking, haunting you, calling for you. You want nothing but to run away from it, but you can’t move— you’re glued in place somehow, maybe in fear, you can’t tell. Everything is uncertain, except for the clock. The clock, you know, it’s real.

It’s counting down. You know what it’s trying to tell you. It’s coming for you and you can’t escape it. It’s only a matter of time now.

“Soon, (Y/N)...” It whispers. “Soon, I’ll come for you, and no one will be able to help you, (Y/N)... (Y/N). (Y/N)!”

You open your eyes with a gasp to find Steve’s arms around your shoulders, shaking you slightly. His eyes are wide, a little frightened. When you look around you find Lucas and Max draped all over a chair, their chests rising slowly, asleep. Dustin is in a sleeping bag on the floor, near Robin and Nancy, hugging each other tightly in their sleep. Steve is the only one awake.

“Shit,” you say, placing your hand in your heart. “Did I wake you?”

“We were talking and then you just went somewhere,” he says. “You don’t remember?”

You suddenly feel very cold. “I thought I was sleeping. I saw…” You think about telling Steve, but it seems pointless now, almost. What would you tell him? You saw a clock? “I think it was one of those hallucinations you guys keep talking about. You’re really freaking me the hell out, you know.”

“Fuck, I think Dustin’s right,” he says.

“About me being cursed by a being from another dimension? Are you kidding?”

Steve does manage to look apologetic. “I know it sounds bonkers, but that’s because it is. I’ve seen it.”

“What? This other dimension?” You were starting to think Dustin and his nanny were just trying to play an extremely elaborate joke on you.

“The Upside Down, but no,” he shakes his head, and then his eyes land somewhere around the room, focusing on one of Mike’s many posters. “The monsters.”

“Vecna?”

“Others,” he says, then murmurs, “Haven’t had the pleasure just yet.”

“The demoger…? What was it?”

“Demogorgon, yeah,” he grumbles. “The Mind flayer too. It’s all real. I wish Will and Eleven were here to actually explain this stuff; they are the ones who actually know their stuff about this.”

You have never seen Steve actually sound so… serious, before. It’s all actually starting to freak you out, you decide, and you aren’t sure if you actually want to find out if it’s all actually real or not. You stay silent for a few moments, sleep escaping you. You figure Steve’s fallen asleep until his voice startles you again.

“You okay there, Henderson?”

No, you want to say. You can’t shake the feeling that the voice is watching you, waiting to catch you by surprise. “Yeah,” you mumble, sleepless, scared.

Steve doesn’t seem to buy your answer however, because you feel his body shifting near your side of the couch, sitting right beside you. When you give him a look (he’s so close he can actually make it out) he clicks his tongue.

“See, I don’t really believe you, Henderson. So, I’m gonna stay near you, just in case you get another vision. Or if you want to hold my hand.”

“Screw you, Steve,” You glare, turning to the other side so that your view is Harrington-less. If you do feel better with him beside you, that’s between you and maybe Vecna, if he’s actually inside your head.

In the morning, when you wake up and Nancy and Robin are both gone (probably visiting a murderer in a mental hospital) and Steve is tangled up beside you, you decide you’ve had enough.

“So we’re just gonna wait around to see what happens?” Dustin argues, as Lucas and Max try to reason with him.

“What else can we do?” Lucas asks, frustrated.

“Literally anything else, dude! My sister might die!”

“Okay, Dustin, you need to stop and we need to go home, now,” you tell him, looking around the basement for your jacket.

“No!” he points at you. “You’re not going anywhere until we know what to do.”

“Dustin. I’m four years older than you,” you glare, placing your hands on your hips. “I’m the older sibling. I’ve entertained this enough already, but I left mom’s car at Dinah’s and we need to go get it and then get our asses home before mom loses her shit.”

“(Y/N)! Listen to me!”

“No, Dustin!” You finally snap, taking Dustin’s walkie-talkie from his hand and shoving it into your bag despite his protests. “I’ve had enough about monsters and other dimensions and whatever other nonsense Eddie Munson has been feeding you! We’re going home, now!”

“I can’t believe I’m actually trying to help you!” Dustin screams, “You suck!”

“Well, you’re stuck with me!”

“I wish I wasn’t,” he says, his eyes cold. “I wish you weren’t my sister.”

The chills return like a slap across your face, making you stumble backwards slightly. The room around you turns dark immediately, the only person left is Dustin in front of you. But it’s not him, it can’t be, his eyes have never looked this lifeless.

“You took his chance away, didn’t you?” The unfamiliar, bone chilling voice returns. “His chance of having a real family, or at least a father figure. He’s right in wishing you weren’t his sister. He deserves someone better.”

Again you want to scream, but it’s like your mouth is taped shut. Around you Mike Wheeler’s basement seems to fade away into blue, and suddenly you’re standing on your front porch, watching your dad walk away. You’re saying the hardness around your eyes, your lips drawn into a tight line. You don’t look like yourself; you look older, and tired, and disappointed, more like a woman than the girl you were when this happened, the girl you must’ve been.

“Don’t come back again,” you tell your father’s retreating form. But your voice is distorted, so far away.

“How many times has Dustin needed his father?” The voice asks. When you blink you’re somewhere else; not Mike’s basement, not your home. There’s splinters of wood scattered by your feet, like a house just destroyed. Everywhere around you is red, like blood, like the blood in those horror movies you forced Dustin to watch because he made them less scary when he squealed. “Are you proud you broke up your family?”

“I was a kid,” you manage to say, and only now you realize you’ve been crying all along, the salty tears wetting your dry lips. “I didn’t want Dustin to know what he did. I would take it back if I knew he wouldn’t actually come back.”

“But you did it anyway. You did.”

I did, I did, I did, you think, over and over. You close your eyes, hard, ignoring how it almost hurts.

“You miss him too, don’t you? Despite everything. You’re sadder about the fact that he left you, too. He left his daughter behind.”

“Who are you?” You hiss out, through your anguish.

“I’m part of you, (Y/N). Whether you want to or not.”

You’re not alone. When you open your eyes you see him — a monster, vicious even in looks, like someone slowly peeled away his skin, and all that was left of him was muscle and meat, not even blood. Vecna. Around you there are two different bloody columns, and you’re quick to notice they’re holding Chrissy and Fred’s bodies, like morbid museum displays, tokens. He was right, Dustin was telling the truth about everything, and now you were going to die because you didn’t listen to him.

“No,” you want to say, you want to scream. But you’re not strong enough, you can’t—

Hey, hey, hey, hey

You blink through your tears. You manage to recognize that melody in this unfamiliar place. You want to run towards it, but you’re not sure your legs can even respond to your commands right now.

Vecna seems to think something’s wrong, too, because as the song progresses he grows more impatient. “You think you can escape like this?”

Tell me your troubles and doubts

Giving everything inside and out and

Love's strange, so real in the dark

Think of the tender things that we were working on

His hands— his claws are stroking your cheeks, an aborted tender gesture, like he’s trying to soothe his prey before going for the kill. It’s over, you think, there’s nothing but this certain death. But then; you think of the hundreds of times you forced Dustin to watch this movie with you; of you both playing with Tews until he scratches one of you in annoyance; driving Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will to the movies; getting ice cream at Scoops Ahoy and guggling when Steve gets rejected once again; putting Dustin’s hair in braids and practicong makeup on him when he was younger; asking Will Byers what he was sketching at the park; Dustin and you laughing during dinner because of some stupid joke. You think about last night, sleeping beside Steve, and the way he made you laugh.

Don't you, forget about me

Don't, don't, don't, don't

Don't you, forget about me

You can’t give up. You can’t leave Dustin.

Somehow you manage to pull Vecna off you with a shove, and you run. You run, you run as fast as your legs let you, as your jeans stain with what looks like blood, as Vecna screams at you. You run like you've never run before.

And then you gasp and you’re falling.

“Shit, fuck, shit!” Someone’s arms are around you, and it takes you a second to calm down to realize it’s Steve, and that you’re in Mike Wheeler’s basement and you’re alive, somehow.

“Holy fucking shit,” Max is saying, but you can barely hear her over the rapid beating of your own heart— erratic, but unquestionably alive.

“God, god, (Y/N),” Dustin’s voice stands out from the others, and when you look at him there are tears streaming down his eyes, and you can barely process anything before you’re trying to reach for him despite feeling like you’re not even in your own body.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, Steve letting go of yours. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“I thought you were gonna die,” he whimpers.

“I’m here,” you breathe out. “Oh my God, I’m here thanks to you.”

You realize that the song is still playing, only to notice the headphones in your ears. You see your scattered bag around the room, and the walkie-talkie that Dustin must’ve been looking for already on the floor. Don’t You (Forget About Me) slowly fades to an end before the next song on the soundtrack starts.

“I’m sorry,” Dustin says into your shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were going through something, I should’ve noticed. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” You shake your head, holding your little brother even closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Fuck, Dustin, I’m so sorry.”

You stay like that for a moment, hugging Dustin on the carpet, Max and Lucas hovering near, and Steve’s hand on your shoulder, grounding you.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

When you explain to Nancy what happened and what you saw once she comes back from Pennhurst she’s quick to pinpoint the house you saw when you met Vecna as Victor Creel’s house. All of you grab your things and head to that location. You try to not feel so dreadful, and Dustin forcing you to listen to Don’t You the entire car ride and holding onto your jacket sleeve helps soothe your nerves, at least a little bit.

But Victor Creel’s house is something out of a horror story, dark and abandoned as it is, and the only light source in the house seems to be the hole Robin made when she smashed the window.

“Let’s split up,” Nancy offers, and everyone seems to comply much to your dismay.

Lucas and Max leave to investigate with Dustin (reluctantly parting from your side) trailing off behind them, Nancy and Robin head upstairs and you and Steve are stuck together and instructed to stay downstairs by Nancy, the only thing illuminating your way being your flashlights.

You wander through hallways, staring at ruined wallpaper and dusty portraits. Victor and his family seemed so happy in their pictures, and you wonder why nobody, family or not, ever came to look for their things. The house seemed frozen in time, like one day the family had decided to get up and leave everything behind, the house nothing more than ghosts.

“I hate this place,” you comment, trying to hug yourself tightly to keep the cold at bay. “Thinking that people died here is…”

“Horrible,” Steve finishes for you. “Yeah… Fuck this place, man.”

When you turn to a corner, you freeze in place.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re seeing this, right?” You point at a clock with your flashlight, unmoving. It’s the same clock from your visions, the one you saw before meeting Vecna.

“Yeah,” Steve frowns. “Real old. Why?”

“I saw it,” you try to explain through the rapid beating of your own heart. “In my visions, I mean. This clock was in them— well, the second one, mostly. In the Wheeler’s basement last night.”

“Shit…” Eloquent as ever, Steve Harrington. “Has to mean something, right?”

“If anything it proves Nancy and Robin were right. It all started here.” You finally force yourself to look away and continue forward, ignoring the way you feel your skin crawling. You hold up your cassette before re-starting the song. “What would happen if I suddenly got tired of this song? Will it no longer work? Does this mean Vecna will… come back for me?”

“Listen, I— I’m not a genius at this like your brother, or like Nancy, or even Robin,” Steve admits, very honestly. “But I promise we’ll find a way, even if that happens. Besides, Dustin told us how much you love this song. Seems kinda impossible you’ll ever get tired of it if you listen to it every day. And listen, I gotta ask. Breakfast club?”

“What?” You feel heat rise up to your cheeks, embarrassed. You start walking away from the clock, trying to get rid of the chills that had gotten ahold of you just a few moments before. “It’s a great movie.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Steve says, and even though you can’t really see him in the dark, you can hear his smirk, picture his smile. He’s teasing, and you’re kind of glad for it. It helps. “I just didn’t think it would be your thing, is all.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s my thing then?”

“I don’t know. You seem like a Dune fan, maybe.” He wonders out loud, your flashlight lighting the way.

“I do like the book.”

“See?” Steve points at his temple. “I knew it.”

“I think working at Family Video is finally getting to you.”

“I’m good at reading people,” he says, and you raise another silent eyebrow at him. He continues, “I’d always thought of you as a little brainiac, and that you’d liked movies that were kinda difficult. You were always reading in school. I didn’t think you’d like teen flicks and Hughes.”

“Dune is not difficult. And maybe you don’t really know me enough to know what my thing is,” you shrug. “... Or maybe every girl is a little bit in love with Judd Nelson.”

“Yeah,” Steve actually laughs. “Can’t beat that hair.”

And you can’t help yourself, you smirk. You think you might actually be dreaming, or maybe this curse made Steve seem more tolerable than usual. “You give him a good run for his money.”

“We’re still talking about hair here, right?”

Now you point your flashlight at Steve and elbow him.

“I’m just asking!”

“It was a stupid question. And just so you know, there’s nothing wrong about liking teen flicks,” you say, continuing to walk and not waiting to see if Steve follows. “Pretty in Pink is my new favorite movie and my GPA is still 3.5.”

“Oh wow. Pretty in Pink?” He whistles. “You have a soft spot for Molly Ringwald.”

“Who doesn’t?”

He hums in response.

You stay like that for a moment, walking through dusty hallways and trying to avoid spider webs. Even with the flashlights the place looks abandoned and lonely, and there’s a coldness running down your spine that you can’t shake off no matter how much you try. You focus on trying to catch the sound of Steve’s breathing to somehow ground yourself to reality. It feels like ever since meeting Vecna your grip on reality slowly fades away, like someone is unraveling the carpet from underneath you, trying to catch you by surprise. Like you’re falling into an abyss of darkness and you can’t hold onto anything— because nothing around you is truly real. And so you bite your lip to keep yourself from reaching out to Steve and holding on. You can’t think of a moment you’ve felt as uncertain as you do now; but Steve’s teasing and your bickering back and forth is normal, makes you feel like you’re not actually in immediate danger. You figure if there’s a different dimension called the Upside Down, then you can most definitely forgive Steve Harrington for being a jerk in High School. He has more than proven himself to you.

Because the truth is that maybe Vecna will win. Maybe you will never beat this curse. And you’ll end up like Chrissy Cunningham, like Fred Benson, like Patrick McKinney; just dead bodies along the trail.

“Hey, Steve,” you call, slowing down to walk beside him. He turns to look at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Uhm. If something… like, happened to me—”

“Woah, woah, wait,” Steve shakes his head. “Nothing will. We beat the curse, remember? With the song?”

“Yeah, but we didn’t actually beat it, did we?” Now you do turn to look at him, and his big eyes almost render you speechless. You don’t know what to call the look on his eyes, but it makes you want to look away from him; makes you want to run. “Listen, Steve, I just— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says, quickly. You think he’s noticed how embarrassed you feel, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re just scared shitless like the rest of us.”

“It’s not that,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk around you and picking fights with you. You’ve— you’ve been there for Dustin when I wasn’t, and I guess you’re not actually a bad guy. So… I’m sorry I judged you. And thank you, I guess. For being there for Dustin. And… me.”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a second. You’re still looking anywhere but him, now focusing your eyes on a spider in one of the many spider webs in front of you. You feel embarrassed and stupid, but a little bit better. You know you’re doing the right thing by apologizing— you know Steve now, better than you’ve ever thought you would. You finally dare to take one look at him and his eyes are still on you, and when your eyes lock, he smiles softly.

“You’re apologizing for that?” Steve asks, and when you nod matter of factly, he tilts his head to the side. “Huh. Never thought I’d see the day Henderson’s sister apologized to me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head, Harrington,” you roll your eyes, but can’t help the small smile forming on your lips. “I’m only doing this because I might die.”

Steve chuckles, nodding. “Fair enough,” he says. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too, Henderson. To be honest, I think I kind of deserved it. I was an asshole in High School, so… yeah. I, uh, I’m sorry it took me getting kicked off the clique to realize you’re not half bad.”

“Well,” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “It took me almost dying to realize you’re not half bad either. I think we’re even.”

Steve stops in his tracks, making you stop, too, a little confused. You turn to look at him, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite so… earnest, maybe. You can’t name the look on his face, but you can’t look away, can’t seem to be able to keep walking. You’re frozen in place.

“You’re not gonna die, Henderson,” he says, determined. “I won’t let you.”

Your mouth goes dry. All you can do in response is nod. You want to say something, but the words escape you, and so you stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of you saying anything. You wonder if Steve can hear the rapid beating of your heart, if he can make out the way your eyes drop to his lips for a slow second despite the darkness around you both.

Then you hear Dustin yell out, “Guys!” and the moment fades away.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

Finding Eddie at Skull Rock seems to be harder than it should be, and once you find him you’re made to follow Dustin’s apparently broken compass. You feel like you’re wandering through the desert, with no clear path in mind. Dustin is at the front, with Lucas and Max following closely behind, Eddie (who you now have a hard time believing would ever be able to kill anyone), Robin and Nancy in front of you and Steve.

You find yourself time and time again choosing to spend more time with Steve, that he seems to be the one able to actually make you feel grounded, like you’re not gonna die in the next three seconds. You feel like yourself around him; but different. Steve is different. This whole experience is making you rethink everything you’ve ever known.

You can’t help but wonder in the silence about Dustin and the others, guiding the rest of you through the night time in the forest. Despite all of them being younger than you, they don’t seem to need your help, especially Dustin, who you think is completely in his element leading the way.

After a while of walking in silence, Dustin announces that the compass seems to be going even crazier. At this, Robin pries it off his hands to confirm that it’s true. Eddie and Dustin argue for a second about following the compass and make another Lord of the Rings reference that has you smiling.

“He’s not half bad,” you comment. “Eddie, I mean.”

“I still don’t know what the hell Modor is,” Steve mumbles under his breath.

You don’t try to explain Lord of The Rings to him— you don’t think there’s even enough time. But, maybe one day, when Hawkins isn’t in imminent danger and Steve still wants to hang out with your uncool self for whatever reason.

“What do you think we’ll find wherever this stupid compass is taking us?” You ask him, trying to avoid accidentally stepping on some poison ivy. Just your luck to get cursed and also poisoned on the same week. “You know more about this than me.”

“I’m actually more like, the, uhm, action guy of the group.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t know where we’re going,” You conclude.

Steve nods. “No damn clue, Henderson.”

“Great,” you chuckle lightly.

“All I know is that it’s probably a portal Vecna opened after killing someone.”

“A portal. To the upside down?” When Steve nods in confirmation, you sigh. “I still can’t get used to how crazy this is.”

“The third time you do this you kind of just start going with the flow of things,” Steve admits. “Russian spies, MK-Ultra, different dimensions, monsters— it all just kind of starts to sound like background noise.”

“Dustin and the kids seem to really know about all of this.”

“They do,” Steve nods. “Dustin is like, their leader. Our leader, I guess.”

“My little brother… fighting communists and monsters.” You shake your head. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. How did Nancy? With you and Mike?”

Steve stops for a second to frown at you. “With me?”

“You know, with Nancy and you dating.”

“Me and Nancy?” he asks, then shakes his head. “No, me and Nance just… we go way back, but she’s with Jonathan. That ship sailed a long time ago. We’re friends now. Besides, she’s the one killing more monsters than me.”

“Oh.”

There’s no way to ignore the way your heart skips a beat at this, or the hopeful glint in Steve’s eyes. The rest of the woods disappear and it’s only you and Steve and your rapidly beating heart. The others are lost to you, in their own little world, searching in the dark with their flashlights like fireflies.

“Yeah,” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “And, just in case, me and Robin are not a thing, either. Just friends.”

“Platonic with a capital P!” You hear Robin yell out in front of you.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you at Steve’s blush. “Yeah, yeah, think she got it, Buckley, thanks.”

“You’re welcome!”

“That’s… good to know,” you comment.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, then scratches his chin. “Is it? Good to know?”

You nod slowly, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe.”

“Maybe. Okay. Maybe is—” he breathes out. “Maybe is cool.”

“Maybe is really cool,” you allow yourself a small smile.

“Really?” Steve inquires, and when he notices his smile he gifts you one of his own. “Okay. That’s great. Maybe is really cool. Cool. Cool beans.”

“Yeah?” You bite your lip, finally daring to look at him.

Steve follows your movement with his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, breathless.

“Hey guys,” Dustin’s voice rings out, the moment gone. “I think we found the portal!”

You both follow Dustin’s voice until you reach a lake, where Eddie explains Vecna killed Patrick when he was running away from Jason and the rest of the basketball team.

“So the portal is… what?” Robin asks, “Underwater?”

Dustin shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

He starts climbing up the boat, and you’re quick to grab him by the sleeves of his shirt to stop him.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” You ask him.

“Looking for the portal,” Dustin says, matter-of-factly.

“You told me this portal is supposed to teleport you to another dimension, one Will Byers got stuck in,” you reply, pulling him away from the boat. “You’re not going anywhere near that portal. None of you kids are.”

“Who died and made you the boss?”

“Three people died,” you note.

“I made her the boss,” Robin quips. “Well, Nancy might technically be the boss, actually. Nance?”

Nancy blinks at Robin’s words. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“Nance says yes.”

Eddie frowns. “Yes to being the boss or yes to—”

“Let’s just go,” Nancy urges, gesturing at Steve to help her drag the boat offshore. Steve complies, and helps Nancy climb into the boat, followed by Robin and then Eddie.

“But what about the curse?” Dustin wonders, looking at you.

“I have this, remember?” You hold up the cassette player, and wink at your brother. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Look after Lucas and Max. Nancy might be the boss, but you’re their leader.”

“Okay, yeah,” he nods, sounding more like he’s talking to reassure himself than anything.

“Compass, please,” you tell him, and Dustin complies unhappily. You can’t help yourself from grabbing him by the cheeks and kissing his forehead like you did when he was younger. Despite being a good leader, a fighter, he’ll always be little Dusty, who steals your waffles and makes really bad coffee. “See you soon.”

Steve offers his hand to help you climb the boat and you take it with a tiny smile.

The trip on the boat is short and dark. Even with Steve using his flashlight to try and light the way, it’s barely enough to keep you from being engulfed in the darkness of the night. When was the last time the moon shone down in Hawkins? There are almost no stars above, the view chillingly dark. You fear what you might find. Nancy stares at Dustin’s compass, trying to give any semblance of direction when the compass starts going crazy.

Steve starts pulling off his socks.

“Steve,” Nancy says slowly, “what are you doing?”

“Somebody’s gotta go down there and check this thing out. Was one of you four Hawkin’s High’s swimming co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years?” He figures, already working on his other shoe. “It’s gotta be me, no complaints, alright?”

Eddie chuckles nervously. “Hey… I’m not complaining. I do not wanna go down there.”

You watch as Eddie takes something off his pocket and throws it on the boat’s floor. You want to stop Steve somehow, irrationally, because as far as you know Nancy, Robin and Eddie can’t dive, and you can barely float — but the words die on your throat when you look up and Steve is peeling off his shirt.

“Here,” Eddie says, and you realize now he had wrapped a plastic bag around a flashlight and is now handing it back to Steve. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, taking it from his hands.

“Steve,” Robin rasps out before he dives, and Steve stops to look at her. “Don’t… die?”

“Gee,” he scoffs. “Thanks for the encouraging speech, Robs.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Don’t die, seriously,” you manage to tell him, wanting to reach for his hand but stopping yourself. “Or I’ll kill you.”

Steve nods. He looks like he wants to say something else, but keeps his mouth shut before diving underwater.

The silence on the boat almost kills you, as it rocks quietly, everyone holds their breath waiting for Steve to come up once again. Your heart is in your throat, Don’t You still playing softly in your eardrums, the cassette player still on, a constant to remind you you’re still here. Miraculously.

“He’s…” Eddie whistles. “He’s got balls, King Steve.”

“Yeah,” you nod, looking at the water like you’re hypnotized, waiting for his soaked head to pop up.

“Not what you’d expect,” he adds, a little quietly.

“No,” Robin says, and the way she says it— so fond, so genuine. You couldn’t agree more. Steve is so much more than what you’d expected him to be. “Not at all.”

You stay silent for a few more seconds, all of you waiting for Steve to come back. When he does he emerges with a gasp for air, startling the rest of you. Eddie screams so loud you hear it perfectly well over the music.

“Found it,” Steve claims, holding onto the edge of the boat.

“You found it?” Nancy repeats.

“It was pretty wild,” Steve explains that he seemed to have stumbled into the portal, like an open gate illuminating the bottom of the lake and tinting it red. “It was pretty damn big—”

Before he can continue, Steve is pulled into the water once again, and you jump up instinctively, trying to reach for his hand, but he escapes your grasp quickly. He emerges again and you breathe a sigh of relief— but it’s short lived, because Steve is dragged under once again and he’s not coming up.

“Steve!” you yell. “Steve!”

“What the hell was that, man?!”

Between all the screaming going on, the only thing you can think about is Steve, Steve, Steve—

And so you stand up.

“Wait, (Y/N),” Nancy starts, “What are you—”

“You’re not going in there!” Eddie screams, trying to grab you by the arm.

“I—” You start, but can’t seem to decide on what to say. You don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you know you’ll do it anyway. You have no plan, that much is certain, you’ve never fought a day in your life. “I can’t just stay here!”

“Are you insane?!”

Robin pales. “No, (Y/N), wait—”

With one last look at the rest of the guys, you dive into the water and swim. You’ve never been a good swimmer, but you find yourself swimming like you’ve never had, quickly finding the red portal Steve had mentioned before being dragged down here. What you find on the other side reminds you of when you met Vecna— when he showed you your memories, cold, distorted and dark. You briefly wonder if Vecna had managed to drag you all the way here then, but you have no time to dwell on it too much.

Steve is laying on his back, as some creatures bite at his abdomen incessantly, like leeches. They are choking him, curling their tails around his neck. You stand up and run towards him, only to notice the others have followed behind you, their wet footsteps a reassurance.

“(Y/N)!” Nancy yells, making you turn. She throws one of the boat’s paddles at you, keeping one for herself.

You manage to catch it, God knows how. Steve is still struggling when you get to him, and the first thing you do is smack one of the things across the face, forcing it on its back and stopping it from further gnawing Steve’s abdomen. You see as Robin starts stomping on the one who has its tail curled around Steve’s neck, and Nancy takes on the other one.

“Shit,” Eddie murmurs when he looks up the sky and sees even more of them approaching.

One of them starts going after Nancy, Eddie trying to come to her rescue by grabbing Steve’s still working flashlight and smacking it as hard as he can manage. You help Robin by hitting the one she’s stomping on with the paddle, until Steve manages to bite its tail, forcing it to curl itself from his neck.

With more coming, you are distracted enough to barely notice when Steve manages to behead it, his lips stained with pitch black blood.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie mumbles. “Jesus H Christ!”

The adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heartbeat going faster— everything seems to go for so long, when in reality it must’ve been just a few minutes.

“Steve,” you manage to rasp out, walking towards him, only looking at his wounds, unsure of what you can do to help him. “Shit, Steve, are you okay?”

“They only took about a pound of flesh,” he says, making you sigh. “But other than that… Yeah, never better.”

He stares at you when he says it, and you can’t help the way your breath catches.

“You’ll need bandages,” Nancy notes.

“Do you guys know if these bats have like, rabbies?” Robin wonders aloud. Aware that everyone’s eyes are on her, Robin starts rambling about rabies symptoms and death. You and Steve glance at each other.

Steve’s chest is still rising erratically, exhausted, when he asks, “What the hell are you talking about, Robin?”

Before Robin can go on any longer though, the sky is tinted red again, and the screeching of even more approaching creatures gets you on edge.��

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” you say, and the rest of the group seem to agree.

The five of you break into a run into the forest, as far as you can before Steve’s wounds start to appear more serious, and when Nancy deems it safe enough, you stop near a tree where Steve can lean against, still breathing rapidly. You remember that Nancy said he’d need bandages, and so you take the hem of your pants and start ripping them open.

“What are you—” Steve starts.

“Bandages,” you say. “I saw this in Indiana Jones.”

“Indiana Jones?” Steve asks with a chuckle, looking up at the sky, smiling. “Your movie choices keep surprising me, Henderson.”

You tie the cloth around his wounds as tightly as you can, hopeful that it’s a good enough job to keep him from bleeding out until you guys get out of here. The wounds don’t look too bad, but you have no idea how long you'll stay here for. Nancy, looking over your shoulders, seems to approve of your bandage work.

“Thanks,” Steve rasps out.

“Just don’t die on me,” you nod, staring at his eyes.

“I’ll try not to.”

He holds your gaze, your mouth going even more dry than it already is. “I’ll hold you to that, Harrington.”

You’re interrupted when Steve catches something behind you. It’s Eddie’s jean vest. When you turn, Eddie scrunches up his nose.

“For modesty, man.”

“We escaped now, but there’s more of those monsters than what we saw,” Nancy interrupts, walking around, trying to think. “They’ll come looking for us. We need to get out of here.”

“So,” Eddie starts, running a hand through his mouth. “What the hell do we do now? How do we get out of here, exactly?”

“We need to find another portal, right?” Robin replies. “That’s the only way to get out of here. But we can’t go back to Watergate, it’s probably full of those bats now. Those bats full of rabies!”

“Right now, the most important thing is to defend ourselves,” Nancy says. “We don’t know what kind of monsters are down here. Maybe they’re even worse than that.”

“Hell,” Eddie breathes. “You think Vecna is here?”

“I don’t know… Maybe.”

A chill runs down your spine at the mention of Vecna’s name. Your hand flies to your ear, and only then you realize you’ve jumped in the water with your headphones on, and when you reach the player secured inside your front pocket it’s wet and broken. Through the adrenaline of the fight, you hadn’t even noticed that the song was no longer playing.

“Shit,” Nancy breathes out, looking at your ruined headphones. “The player.”

“It’s ruined,” you lament, seeing the way it’s soaked. You toss the cassette player to the ground, near Steve’s feet, who pales even more, if it’s even possible.

“Fuck,” he says, breathless, the slight reassuring smile he’d been wearing disappears in an instant. He stands up straight despite his body clearly protesting against it. “We need to find another one before it’s too late.”

“Would it even work here?” Robin wonders. “If it’s one from the Upside Down, I mean. Things seem to be… kind of broken here, don’t they?”

“Then we need to get her out of here right now,” Steve urges, and when he starts trying to walk away it’s Eddie who stops him.

“Dude, do you want your intestines to hang out of your abdomen like some shitty Nightmare on Elm Street scene?” he asks, “Stay still! Those bats could be anywhere!”

“We need to move!”

“Steve, wait a second,” you urge after him.

“We could go to my house,” Nancy offers. “I have guns. We could use them to fend off the demo… bats, or whatever. And we need a player. We can use Mike’s, he has one he didn’t take to California.”

Eddie blinks. “You, Nancy Wheeler… have guns.”

Robin grins. “Full of surprises, isn’t she?”

Steve is already on his way despite his groans of pain, and even though the wounds had seemed pretty superficial to you when you wrapped them up, it doesn’t mean that they don’t hurt like a bitch.

“Steve, you’re just hurting yourself even more now,” Now Robin is sighing, exasperated. You briefly wonder how many times she’s had to deal with Steve like this.

“Let’s go,” he says, ignoring her.

“Steve...” you try to stop him, but he turns around quickly.

“Let’s go!”

Robin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Where are we even going, oh great leader?”

“Nancy’s!”

You all turn to look at each other, unsure if following Steve is the best idea, but with nothing else to do and no other ideas, there’s only one thing to do.

And so you all start walking.

📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

It’s a while before you arrive at the Wheeler’s, the five of you mostly exhausted from the fight, with Steve clutching his wounds but still leading the way, right next to Nancy. You’re all on edge the entire way back, but despite the lack of music you don’t feel different yet, and you don’t encounter any more demobats, as Nancy had called them.

Nancy’s house seems haunted in this place, just as much as the rest of Hawkins seems to be. Despite housing monsters, the Upside Down looks more like a ghost town than anything. You couldn’t help but wonder how tiny Will Byers had ever survived something like this so young… Nobody ever gives that kid enough credit.

Nancy wastes no time climbing up the stairs; she almost seems unaffected looking at her house like this, so… dead. She hovers near a door and turns to look at you.

“This is Mike’s room,” she nods at it. “His cassette player should be in there. Me, Eddie and Robin will get the guns and look for the cassette in my room.”

You agree to it, and she disappears down the hallway along with Eddie and Robin. You and Steve enter Mike’s room, start rummaging through cabinets. You work in silence. You’ve never seen Steve this quiet, this focused. You wonder if he’s mad at you— he had to be. Now besides demobats and trying to escape, he had to help you too because you’d went and done something stupid and completely irrational.

Steve clears his throat, holding up something in his hand. “Found it,” he calls. “Think it’ll work?” He wonders aloud, as you close the closet door before walking up to him.

“Here,” You say, then pull your ruined flashlight from your back pocket. You hit the back of it against the palm of your hand and the batteries come off. You’re not sure if this might work since the flashlight got wet and stopped working once you jumped into the water, but once you plug them into the cassette player it seems to come to life. Steve sighs, relieved. “Thank God that worked. Let’s get that stupid cassette and get out of here.”

“Sounds good to me,” he quips. He wets his lips, looking around. “You don’t feel any different, though, right?” When you shake your head, he seems to be able to relax a bit. “When we were on our way here, Eddie told me you didn’t waste a second to help me.”

You wait for Steve to continue, but he doesn’t.

“I’ve never been much of an adventurer when we were kids,” you say. “Dustin wanted to climb trees and go camping, and I wanted to stay home and read books. We used to fight all the time because I never wanted to play outside with him, because I was scared of bugs and dirt and I just wanted to stay inside.”

Steve doesn’t say anything to that, but he’s near you, hoving near your hand, like he knows you need the comfort, unsure if it’d be wanted from him.

“If I don’t make it out of this stupid curse, Steve,” you breathe out, legs feeling so shaky you want to throw up, “I need you to promise me you’ll take care of Dustin.”

“He’ll kill me before I let you die,” Steve says, trying t sound lighthearted but failing.

“Steve,” you rag out. “Promise me. Please.”

Steve nods, his voice soft in the way it does when he’s trying to be gentle. “Y—yeah. Of course. You know little Henderson’s like my own little brother.”

“I know,” you acknowledge. “You’ve been a way better sibling than me. I’ve been such a shitty sister and I’m… I’m really glad Dustin has you.”

“That’s not true,” he argues, reaching for your arm in the darkness of the room— you want to flinch away. “He loves you, (Y/N). Seriously, you should hear the way he talks about you when you’re not around.”

You ignore the sting in your eyes and berate yourself for tearing up.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper.

“What?”

“It’s my fault my dad walked away,” you shake your head, tearing your arm away from Steve’s touch, feeling cold as soon as you’re away from him. But you deserve it, you deserve the cold. “I told him I hated him after I learned he cheated on mom and that he had another family, and he never came back. I told him I never wanted to see him again. I’m the reason Dustin doesn’t have a dad now. But— but I was just fifteen, I didn’t— I didn’t know what I was asking—”

“Stop, stop,” Steve interrupts, and suddenly he’s pulling you close to your chest and holding you close.

And suddenly that’s all you need to break down, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You feel embarrased, stupid for crying about something like this when the world might be about to end, horrifyingly guilty for everything— but for the first time you feel like something has been finally lifted off your chest and you can breathe, here, with Steve holding you. You’re glad Steve stayed behind with you. In truth, you think you might just be glad for Steve.

If someone had told you a week ago you’d be crying in Steve Harrington’s arms you would’ve smacked them. Life can change really fast, huh?

“Nobody is going to die,” his voice is so soft. You’d never thought you’d think of Steve’s voice as anything other than grating, but now you hold onto it like a lifeline. “I won’t let that happen.”

You breathe into his chest. You finally manage to let go of him, thanking God the others weren’t near. You miss the warmth almost immediately, as much as you don’t want to admit it. “Shit, sorry, your bandages.”

“You need to stop doing that,” he quips.

“What?”

“Apologizing so much,” he reaches for your arm again before walking, and you thank him silently. You have to bite your tongue not to apologize again. “Let’s go get that cassette.”

When you both step into Nancy’s room, the silence is almost deafening.

“What happened?”

“The guns,” Nancy explains, her eyes focused on her nightstand, not looking up at either of you. “They aren’t here. But so many things that shouldn’t be are. Like— like my curtains, and these— these toys I gifted my cousin Joanna. They haven’t been here since 1983.”

“We’re stuck in time, dude,” Eddie finishes for her.

“Three years, to be exact.”

“What?” Steve asks, confused. “Three years into the past?”

“... From when Will disappeared, you mean?” You question.

Nancy nods. “Yeah, I… think so. But, (Y/N), If we’re three years in the past, it means The Breakfast Club isn’t out yet,” Nancy swallows, hard, then finally looks up to stare into your eyes.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, his chest rising erratically.

You bite your lip. “She means the song doesn’t exist, either.”

Nancy closes her eyes.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

“Fuck!” Steve yells, “fuck!”

He kicks one of Nancy’s nightstands with so much force he manages to force it into the ground, Nancy’s belongings following suit, scattering around the carpet, making Nancy flinch.

“Steve,” you whisper, trying to reach for him. “Stop.”

Steve sits on Nancy’s bed, hand covering his mouth. He lets you rest your hand on his arm, and he breathes out another curse. He almost looks frozen in place like this, and it reminds you that everything in here feels like it is— ghosts, so many ghosts. You feel like you’re stuck in hell.

“Maybe any song will work,” Robin offers a little desperately, going through Nancy’s drawers, pulling out different cassettes and soundtracks, Duran Duran, Madonna, Elton John. “C’mon guys, one has to work.”

Eddie scratches his neck. “Doesn’t it have to be her favorite song? Isn’t that what Henderon said?”

“Screw it,” Nancy shakes her head, taking in a shaky breath. “We have to try whatever we can. This is our only option.”

“Okay,” you nod, shakily, prying your hand off of Steve’s arm, reaching to cruch own next to Robin and look through the rest of Nancy’s cassettes. “Okay, let’s— let’s try it.”

Robin holds up Total Eclipse of the Heart. “You like Bonnie Tyler?”

“Seems as good as anything,” you nod, taking it from her hands. As the first notes of Total Eclipse start playing, you gulp nervously, praying this might work, that you have at least enough time to get out of here alive.

Steve still looks miserable, but seems a little calmer now. “We need to get out of here right now.”

“How?” Robin sighs. “How did Will ever manage to get out of this place?”

“There has to be a way,” Nancy figures, then something seems to dawn on her. “Will. Will used to talk to Joyce with the Christmas lights while he was stuck in the Upside Down.”

“The Christmas lights?” Eddie asks, incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

As she explains, you can’t help but think that Nancy Wheeler is absolutely brilliant. You can’t blame Steve for falling in love with her before. She’s interrupted by Robin rather quickly though, when she claims she can hear Dustin’s voice— soon enough, all of you start to hear him, distorted and distant, but it's there no less. Quickly Dustin communicates that he thinks there might be another portal in Eddie’s trailer and that seems to be your best shot at an escape.

Robin and Nancy leave to get some supplies for the trip— whatever they can find to use as a weapon, while Eddie wanders off behind them, with the excuse of rummaging through little Wheeler’s action figures. Steve stays with you, as you stare at Holly’s Lite Brite, unsure on what to do.

You trust Dustin and his plan, of course you do. Dustin’s done nothing but prove himself to you these past few days. Still, the thought that everything might go incredibly wrong is almost unshakable at this point. What was it Max said to you? Something about how Vecna’s curse made people feel hopeless and lonely.

“You okay, right?” Steve wonders aloud, searching your face. “You haven’t had any visions yet?”

You haven’t felt Vecna’s pull yet, but you don’t want to be overly optimistic just yet. “I’m okay, I think. Are you?”

You glance down at his bandages, but he only nods. “Yeah, they don’t hurt anymore. I’m more worried about you.”

Warmth spreads all over your cheeks and inside your chest, but now’s really not the time for all of these feelings, and so you try to squeeze them out, to focus on something else.

“I just hope the plan works,” you mumble. “I want to get out of here.”

“You—” Steve shakes his head, looks at you with a look you can’t name. But he sounds frustrated, exhausted. “You just jumped in after me? You didn’t even think…” he trails off. “Eddie said you just jumped. Fucking jumped. You’re unbelievable, you know that, don’t you, Henderson? Absolutely fucking unbelievable.”

You look down at your hands.

“It was stupid, I know, I—”

“Thank you,” Steve murmurs, honesty bleeding into every word he speaks. You look up at him, surprised. “You saved my ass back there.”

The truth is you hadn’t doubted one second— you hadn’t even stopped to think about what might happen to you. Helping Steve was more important to you than anything in that moment, and you didn’t regret it, how could you regret that?

“You saved my ass first, back at the Wheeler’s,” you smile at him. “Even later, in the woods, and at Creel’s house. I don’t know if I could have kept going without you… so thank you.”

Steve stays silent for a few seconds, unsure of how to continue. You can practically feel him grow nervous now, when he clears his throat and begins speaking. “Listen, I know we are on the brink of life and death and maybe world threatening danger, but I kinda need some motivation to get out of here.”

“Yeah?”

“So, now that you know me and Nancy aren’t really a thing, and that me and Robin are platonic with a capital P…”

“Keep going.”

“And since you know, maybe is really cool,” you nod, trying to fight off a smile. “We should, maybe, go on a date together.”

“Hm…” you place a hand on your chin. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I can go out with someone who doesn’t like Pretty in Pink.”

“I’ve never said I didn’t,” he shrugs. “I just haven’t even seen it.”

“You haven’t seen Pretty in Pink, you monster?!”

“You know, I’m actively bleeding out here,” Steve gestures at your last minute bandages, his smile almost as handsome as him, even more so after tearing off a bat monster’s head off. Even more so now that it seems you finally have a plan to get out of this goddamn place. “You’re gonna make a dying man wait?”

“You’re not dying, Harrington.” You smack him gently across the shoulders. “I won’t let you.”

Steve chuckles, his hand finding its way to yours, almost nervous, scared of rejection.

“So? What do you say?”

“I say that if we get out of here alive, and it seems like kind of a longshot right now…” you acknowledge, holding onto his hand and squeezing. “I would really, really like that.”

“Yeah?”

You’re smiling. “Yeah.”

You both might be the people with the worst timing in the entire world— you’re cursed by a demon villain from another dimension, and Steve is bleeding out while you’re both trapped inside the Upside Down, with no clue if you’ll be able to actually escape. Not to mention this is all happening in his ex's house. And yet you can’t help but laugh when Steve tries to reach for the back of your neck and fails miserably.

“I really want to kiss you,” he says, “but my abdomen still really hurts.”

“I have to do everything,” you tease, before closing the distance between you, your lips pressing against his with a sigh.

Steve’s lips are chapped, bloody, raw, and yours must be equally as bad, salty, open and bleeding raw. But despite everything the kiss is perfect, as imperfect and uncoordinated as it is; the way your lips fit together, the way Steve cradles your cheek, and how you hold the back of his neck while Bonnie Tyler plays in the background of it all. Now, more than anything, you feel hope.

When you break off the kiss, Steve is smiling.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. And you just might.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harington fic #steve x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things scenario #steve harrington scenario #st4 #joe keery #female reader #dyfam #mine #stranger things

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stealth-liberal · 2 months

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Whew, I have a lot to say, and I know for a FACT that not a single non Jewish person on here will give a shit... but I have to vent.

Antisemitism in America is so bad that I honestly don't know if it's safe to send my daughter off to college in 2 years. She doesn't know either. Both of us have discussed her staying home and doing as much of her university education online, so as to keep her safe. She has sensory issues and an anxiety disorder... and already she has been rejected all over the place in her high school campus since 10/7.

The Women's Empowerment Club? The club leader has made it so that no female Jewish student feels safe there, and all of them quit. The little leftist neo nazi in charge of it probably cheered as they left and patted herself on the back for her "praxis". Maybe she can start goose stepping and yelling "Heil Hitler!" while she's at it. But she's not unique. Feminist organizations the world over deny mass rape of Jewish women. Why? Because it's Me Too Unless You're a Jew. They want us all raped and in the grave. Period.

The Pride Club? Forget it. All queer Jewish kids are persona non grata there. Apparently it's cool if Jewish queers are the subject of violence... and I can't say more or I'll start wanting to kill people. I am bisexual, my husband is bisexual, our daughter is lesbian. I have been part of this community since I was 12 as an ally and since I was 15 as a bisexual (took me some time to figure out what I was). My daughter came out in 4th grade for G-d's sake. We've been there, fighting the fight and now... queer organizations all over the world are abandoning us. They honestly hope we will all die, the more violently the better.

I was a proud intersectional feminist and a proud queer woman my whole life. Or at least ever since I could make decisions about that sort of stuff and what I believed. And I have been abandoned, my daughter has been abandoned, for blood sport. Her friends are pulling away from her and we all know why... because she committed the unpardonable sin of being Jewish.

Funny part? The Muslim Student Union has done nothing to her or the other Jewish kids on campus. Ponder that thought leftists if you will.

My son is in 8th grade and for the entirety of his 6th and 7th school years he was relentlessly bullied for being Jewish. We live in a red town and it was right wing antisemitism. It was so bad that I had to remove him for his safety from the school for a while. Now? It's left wing as well, he's catching it from both sides and I don't know how to protect him.

No one cares. Frankly, if my 13 year old son committed suicide to get away from it all... they would throw a party. Another dirty Jew/Zionist down... am I right? None of you give a fuck.

I marched, I protested, I voted, I phone banked. I lived my beliefs in action, and the left betrayed me. They fantasize about me and my children being raped and murdered. The more graphically it could happen, the better for them. Frankly, I think they get off to the videos Hamas released in the privacy of their rooms at night.

There's nowhere to run. Israel isn't an option. I know everyone thinks Jews are dripping in wealth... but I frankly do not have enough money to move my family to the other side of the planet. My husband is in IATSE, the stage hand local. There are no jobs waiting for him there. There are no jobs waiting for me there. I have no family there. Neither does he.

Actually, my husband isn't Jewish. I am, our children are, but he is not. He supports us in our Jewishness 100%, but he is not a Jew and he never wanted to convert. Which is fine with me... but how the hell does that work in a country where there is no civil marriage?

I'm not Orthodox, I don't want to be Orthodox. I want full egalitarianism, so I go to Reform, Renewal, or Conservative synagogues, depending on what is closer to wherever I live. Israel is a VERY Orthodox country, and the options are Orthodox or completely secular. This is a criticism I've been laying at Israel's feet for DECADES.

And Jew Haters better not use this as a way to say how awful Israel is. Not when the countries surrounding Israel are either dictatorships or absolute power, divine right monarchies who kill dissenters constantly.

So... there's really nowhere for my family to go. So I guess I'll stay where I am being a liberal Jew and waiting for the sick marriage of MAGA and Leftists to come to my door and kill me and my family.

None of you care. All of you would cheer. I'll never trust any of you again for the rest of my life. Till the day I die... I'll never trust any of you in any part of my life (online or offline) again.

1 in 5 members of Gen Z think the Holocaust didn't happen. 2/3rds of Gen Z think stories of the Holocaust are exaggerated and that Jews were somewhat complicit in what happened to us. Blame the victim...amirite? The rates amongst Millennials are not as horrific... but they're still bad. You all are going to commit a 2nd Holocaust and pat yourself on the backs. And when history remembers you all as the Nazis part 2... you will babble in your nursing homes that you were "Just trying to save the world from the Zionist/Jewish scourge."

When that happens, I hope you die in a puddle of your own shit.

#sl speaks #jumblr #jewish #antisemitism #jew hatred #jew haters #me too unless you're a jew #holocaust denial #holocaust inversion #leftist antisemitism #right wing antisemitism #they're all the same #horseshoe theory

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minkdelovely · 1 month

Text

love and power

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chapter four

“take what you want.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: blood, flies, poisoning, mentions of nausea, descriptions of: violence ; cannibalism. ; suffocation ; and murder, kinda angsty?, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 3.4k

author’s note: just a quick little note here for something i felt the need to clarify. there’s a moment that would have been perfect for alastor’s microphone but i am working under the fact that it’s still broken, which (to me) carries too much significance for his character and i don’t know how to magically fix it for him 🥲 i just realized i haven’t explicitly addressed why it hasn’t been mentioned at all and wanted to explain myself lol

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight

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Seeing the distress on your face, Angel put a hand on your shoulder and tried to do damage control. “Whoa, babe, it’s okay! It’s probably just a coincidence — forget I said anything, all right? It was a gag!”

You had been doing so well at keeping Donny from your mind today, but you could feel the panic welling up again. As the blood drained from your face, your mind raced with questions. How did Angel know it was Donny that you had attacked yesterday? How did they know each other — through work? Was someone looking for whoever had been responsible for it? What would happen if they found out it was you?

He peered over you and gave Alastor a nervous look. If you were shrinking against the static you felt building behind you, you didn’t even want to know what his face was looking like right now. But the thought of Angel being in Alastor’s line of fire was worse.

“But that was his name,” you said, giving them each a quick look. “Or at least that’s what I heard his friend call him.”

“Perhaps the elevator isn’t the best place for this,” Alastor said cooly, stepping forward to push the button that re-started your descent. He pivoted to face you and Angel and you felt admonished under his gaze. “Sylvie and I are on our way out, but if you’re free this evening Angel, we can discuss this more in private. I have some questions of my own.”

“It’s a date, Smiles,” Angel cooed, happy to diffuse the tension, and you felt yourself relax when he gave your shoulder a little squeeze. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d invite me up to your room.”

Alastor’s smile strained as his gaze wandered from Angel to you, leering. “Who said anything about my room?”

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The walk into the city had been quiet, the tension from the elevator ride not yet fully gone. You knew Alastor’s good mood from yesterday wouldn’t last forever, but nothing could have prepared you for Angel’s ambush. How were you just supposed to sit with this until tonight? Your mind was still going in circles with questions, but what you really couldn’t let go of was how upset you had gotten at the sound of Donny’s name. Last night you thought you had made some kind of peace with your actions, but apparently you weren’t quite there yet.

It wasn’t so much the murder that bothered you, since you knew he’d eventually recover. Besides, it’s not like it was something you technically hadn’t done before. Though what happened with your grandmother was different; you’d poisoned her for starters. The rest was damage control and you died in the process so… karma.

It was the rage you displayed that was chilling. You had never lost control like that before, no matter how upset you had been. And even though you had thrown up, you never thought — no. It was still too much to think about and your stomach turned in response, threatening to evacuate what little was in there.

You were so lost in thought it wasn’t until you were nearly standing in it that you realized Alastor had brought you to the alley. He really was such a menace. Donny was nowhere to be seen but the large pool of blood left behind had baked into the concrete. The bag with the liver was there as well, rotting in the afternoon sun.

“Is this the bag you were muttering about earlier?” Alastor asked, leaning over it with his arms crossed behind his back. You had forgotten about letting that slip while you were cleaning, your headache getting the best of you in a moment of weakness. Alastor hadn’t been moved.

He seemed unbothered by the putrid smell that you were actively trying not to gag on. Flies escaped the bag as he inspected it with the tip of his shoe and you grit your teeth in disgust at the sight. Alastor looked over at you when you didn’t respond right away, his neck bent at an unnatural angle to make eye contact. You managed a nod in confirmation, too nauseous to dare open your mouth to answer. Had he really brought you here just to see if you had been lying about it? Or did he just want to see you squirm? Probably both.

You nearly fainted when he reached inside the bag, sending more flies on their way, and held the soggy, rancid parcel in his hand. Enjoying your repulsion, he made a show of inspecting it. The glittering smile on his face one of the more genuine displays you’d witnessed.

“Such a shame. This would have made a great surprise,” he said as his hand turned over, the liver falling to the ground in a resounding, wet slap.

Almost instinctually, your hand went to your mouth, drawing out a lighthearted chuckle from Alastor. He wiped off his hand and made his way back to you then, and you trailed slightly behind him down the street. Neither of you noticed the drone.

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Alastor was beginning to feel… impatient.

Considering the ordeal yesterday, he hadn’t expected you to be in the best of moods but you had started the morning off with some promise until Angel Dust appeared in the elevator. His lip twitched at the thought. What a fucking disaster that had turned out to be! The gray cloud hanging over you since then had only seemed to build, despite his effort to snap you out of it by popping into the alley.

Of course that had been mostly, if not solely, for his own pleasure. It was disappointing but not surprising that your victim Donny had been retrieved. Alastor had recognized the name of course, recalling how Valentino was shouting at his phone as he left the dry cleaners. It just had to be one of his little toys that you messed with, didn’t it? Not that you had known, but it was only a matter of time before that garish buffoon would find out about you. And despite it all, the dried blood that nearly reached from wall-to-wall was such a marvelous sight — what a mess you had made! A job well-done indeed, though it had put him in a bind.

He knew you weren’t going to have the same appreciation for it that he did, and your disgust at his performance with the spoiled liver had been fun enough. He hadn’t been lying when he said it would have made a great surprise. But none of that had done anything to cheer you, and now you weren’t even keeping pace, walking behind him like a kicked dog. Hell, you certainly looked like one, the sullenness on your face threatening to break his own composure by the second. This wouldn’t do, not for the last free afternoon that he had you at his disposal.

Alastor paused, ignoring how you ran into him and cursed, his attention on a cafe across the street he was fairly certain he had visited before. Perhaps sitting down to chat would help. It was lunchtime, anyway.

“Let’s stop in there,” he said, looking down at you, taking care to point out the cafe. Lord knows your poor soul needed all the direction it could get right now.

“I thought you wanted something from the butcher?” you questioned, eyeing him and the cafe with suspicion.

The Radio Demon narrowed his eyes, smile tight, his shadow pulling free of him for a moment. If he wasn’t on the verge of being pissed off your question would’ve been funny; a feeble attempt at seeming to know his mind. And as of now, he was not in a laughing mood. Were you really so self-absorbed that you couldn’t tell you were on thin ice? A reset was definitely in order.

“Can’t a fellow change his mind? That rigidity of yours puts such a sour mood on everything! You seem to be full of nasty little habits,” Alastor sneered, pleased to have gotten under your skin as you scowled at him.

He didn’t wait for you as he made his way across the street, knowing you’d follow whether you wanted to or not.

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Being treated to lunch wasn’t something you had ever expected from Alastor. Impossible didn’t even begin to describe this scenario. It was just so… cordial. He always took his meals alone at the hotel, making Rosie the only person you knew he would willingly dine with. And there was no way sitting down to a table with you would equate to that. Rosie was a peer — a friend! You were not and never would be.

That much was evident when he had held the door open for you, clearly forcing his hand. Outwardly, it would have appeared a genteel act but you knew better, even without the self-righteousness on his face as you quietly entered the cafe. What else could you have done but obey? It’s not like you could run away, having already felt the ominous tug on your neck as he walked across the street.

He had left you at the table to order at the counter, and you watched as the cashier struggled to maintain his composure in Alastor’s presence, seemingly scared to death. It was the first time you had ever seen someone outside of the hotel interact with him, you realized. Alastor was being polite enough, though nothing seemed to reign in his air of superiority. The look in his red eyes told you all you needed to know: he loved having power over others. Whether it came from a place of fear or respect didn’t matter as long as he had the upper hand. This was the demon you belonged to.

When he joined you at the table, you could tell he was in a bit of a better mood. Despite the means to get here, you silently thanked the cashier for cowering. Hopefully he had softened whatever blow Alastor had in store for you. Though the placid look Alastor was giving you made you fidgety. Could be the calm before the storm…

“You’ve been testing my patience,” he finally said, waiting for the boy from the register to leave the table after dropping off two coffees. “But luckily for you, there are more important things I’d like to discuss. I’ve had quite a busy morning, not that you bothered to ask.”

It took all you had not to roll your eyes but you managed to keep a straight face, feeling his temper writhing just under the surface of his calm facade. But you had been with him nearly all morning. Or did his suite magically clean itself? What could possibly have happened in between those few gaps? Especially something you’d want or even know to ask about. And if I’d asked, you wouldn’t have told me, you thought indignantly.

“I’m sorry… the whole thing with Angel just really threw me off,” you said as sincerely as you could. It wasn’t a lie, after all. “And I don’t think going to the alley helped, either,” you added, eyes flitting from him to your coffee. Bold, but also not a lie.

He chuckled into his cup. “I’ll concede to that. I thought it would be funny, but I shouldn’t expect you to share my taste in humor. You’re still so new, and all that. But I worry if you don’t shake that mortal way of thinking you’ll wither, my dear, and that would be a shame. If you’ll allow me, I’d take great pleasure in helping you fix that.”

You were unsure of how to react. Technically, he didn’t need to ask your permission for anything, so was this just the illusion of giving you a choice only to end up as a trap? It felt as if there was always something just out of reach whenever he spoke to you like this, like the fine print in a contract. He was only direct when he was upset, which you’d prefer if you were being honest. Anger you could take — understand, even. But this? You were just spinning your wheels.

“So, what, I’m not doing the afterlife right, or something?” It had been somewhat of a joke, but the look he gave you was smug.

“That’s precisely what I’m saying. You’ve been dead a few months now, yes? But the moral compass you’re adhering to won’t benefit you here. Take Donny for instance,” he said, eyes brightening as you flinched at the name. “What’s bothering you so much about it? He provoked you, didn’t he? Regale me with your account!”

He made a show of settling in his chair, adjusting his coat and crossing his legs, apparently content to sit for hours if that’s what it took for you to open up. You remembered him asking you to tell him what Donny had done when you were walking back to the hotel yesterday, but wasn’t that just teasing? The expectant look on Alastor’s face begged to differ.

So you told him.

To your surprise, he sat there and listened as the words spilled from your mouth. Your intent hadn’t been to ramble, but he didn’t seem bothered by it as you took him through the events of yesterday morning. Eventually getting to how you had been so close to making it back in time, only to be cornered and harassed; a sick twist of fate just for wanting to be prepared. He was calm as you told him how Donny had grabbed you and licked the tears off your face, but you could’ve sworn you saw his eye twitch.

“And then I just… lost it, I don’t know,” you sighed, hiding your face in your hands. “I was just so mad! Like who the fuck did he think he was, touching me like that? And my body just reacted before my mind could catch up. But then when it was all over, I…,” you paused and let out a breath, fighting against the turmoil in your stomach from what you were preparing to say next. “I can still feel how my teeth punctured his skin. I can hear the sound it made, even more than the screaming. I didn’t even know I was swallowing it all until…”

You stopped then, the tingling in your throat painful, your coffee long forgotten and cold. He had been there for the rest of it, what more was there to say? Did he really want to know how every sip of liquid or bite of food since then had been nearly-impossible tasks? How you had sobbed in the shower as you watched the blood stream down your legs and into the drain? Or how you barely managed to look yourself in the mirror because it felt like someone else was looking back? Those didn’t seem like details he’d be interested in.

In fact, weren’t they the very things he was inferring your morality had burdened you with? You’d only be making his point for him, and somewhere in your mind you concurred. You didn’t want to be saddled with this misery forever, but the person you always thought you were was slipping away, and you just wanted to cling to whatever pieces you had left. Horror was a welcome pill to swallow. It meant that you hadn’t completely enjoyed what you had done.

Because part of you had enjoyed it.

You thought of your grandmother again. In life, there had been countless times you made yourself small for the sake of accommodation. No telling how many words had died in your throat because it was easier not to say them. So as you watched her fall out of that godforsaken chair she loved so much, gasping for air that wouldn’t come as she crawled on her hands and knees, you relished it. She had pushed you to your limit and was finally paying the price. Appalling as it was, for the first time in your life you had felt strong.

Killing Donny hadn’t left you with the same feeling of victory as killing your grandmother had, though. What his intentions for you had been, you’d probably never know, but they definitely weren’t anything good. In that sense you were very glad to have gotten to him first and, to a certain extent, would do it all over again if need be. But none of this was information you felt like confessing to Alastor.

“And here I was, hoping that the cannibals had rubbed off on you,” Alastor mourned, resting his chin in his hand. “So eating him is what’s upset you, not the murder?” You couldn’t ignore the glimmer in his eye or the insinuation behind it.

“You’re generalizing,” you chided, sighing as you crossed your arms. You were feeling very tired now. “But yes, if that answers your question. He’ll heal eventually and he would have hurt me if I hadn’t done what I did.”

“That’s true enough,” he agreed, pushing back from the table to stand. He offered you a hand and you took it, feeling slightly stiff from sitting so long. “I suppose you’re not as hopeless as I thought, but my offer still stands. I think under the right circumstance, you could learn to enjoy it.”

You scoffed a laugh. Was he serious? “Was that really what you wanted to talk to me about? I’m not trying to eat people for fun.”

Alastor didn’t answer, but his smile was wicked as he took your arm in his as you left the cafe. You did your best not to imagine what thoughts could be passing in his mind, but felt relief all the same seeing him in a better mood again.

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The two of you had barely entered the lobby when Angel sprang off the couch in the parlor, looking irritated and worn out. “Fucking finally! We need to—”

Alastor couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only creature in this realm that understood the art of subtlety. Hadn’t the debacle in the elevator been enough for one day? Was he doomed forever to salvage any bit of decorum that he could come across? It was truly lamentable.

“Sylvie, why don’t you go prepare my room for the evening? I’d prefer to speak with Angel alone,” Alastor said, removing your arm from his as he turned to face Angel Dust. He could feel his shadow threatening to separate from him, but scaring the boy would be counterproductive. “Shall we head to yours?”

He ignored your huff of frustration at being dismissed, but was grateful you didn’t fight him on it. It’s not a battle you would have won anyway. As soon as he saw that you were in the elevator, Alastor’s shadow enveloped the two of them, re-materializing in Angel’s room.

“Remind me to never let you do that again,” Angel grimaced, rubbing his arms squeamishly. “I feel dirty, and that’s sayin’ a lot.”

Alastor’s patience was threatening to snap, and he didn’t succeed in maintaining a pleasant tone when he spoke. “Why don’t we discuss whatever it was you were about to shout in the lobby? Or was the urgency just an act?”

Angel scoffed. “Hey, fuck you, all right? I was just tryin’ to help, and now I’ve been roped into your bullshit! Val’s been blowin’ up my fuckin’ phone all afternoon — he said a drone caught you and Sylvie in an alley or some shit?”

Alastor’s eyes went black, his pupils switched to dials. Fuck. This was all happening much sooner than Alastor had planned for. He had originally planned to ask Angel what Valentino had known in regard to Donny, hoping to have the upper hand and confront the cretin on his own terms. But now the ball was in Valentino’s court… and he had brought it upon himself. He just had to go back to that fucking alley earlier, didn’t he? Alastor could feel the rage threatening to consume him, but that would have to wait until he had a moment to himself.

“What does he want?” he managed to ask without venom, antlers growing despite himself.

“I don’t know, but he won’t quit houndin’ me,” Angel huffed, sitting on the edge of his bed. “He wasn’t even pissed off about Donny, he thought it was funny! That piece of shit barely gets work anyway. But now he knows you’re involved and said he wants to meet up you know where. Whatever the fuck that means…”

Alastor sighed, eyes returning to red, and wiped off his monocle if only to keep his hands busy. He’d hate to strangle Angel Dust by mistake. It would be difficult to explain, and besides, he wasn’t one to shoot the messenger.

“Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. I’ll do what I can to ensure he keeps you out of it going forward,” Alastor said in a clipped voice, blood dripping down the corner of his mouth. He disappeared from the room before Angel could respond.

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tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #slow burn #hazbin hotel slow burn #alastor slow burn #song fic #if i can't have love i want power #love and power #x reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon

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