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saerins · 1 year

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─── 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

+ itoshi rin x f!reader | wc 6k | content: mostly fluff, some angst, rin is so awkward, childhood friends to lovers

notes: my first time writing something for rin so i’m nervous but i hope you guys like it <3 pls i hope i didn’t butcher him >_< rbs & feedback appreciated muwah !

summary: rin thinks about you all the time, for better or for worse. problem is, he really shouldn’t be anymore. things never seem to work out for the both of you, will trying even make a difference this time?

rin knows you don’t like flowers. no wait, you like them, you just don’t like receiving them. you cried once, when the flower he plucked for you died within a few days in your makeshift vase.

rin also knows that while other girls dream of their dream wedding, you dream of a nice cosy house, a modern one with touches of japanese accents. he likes to hear you talk about it. he likes to hear you talk about anything at all, actually.

he’s known you ever since you were both little, since you were both five and just two kids in the playground playing hide and seek.

rin would always win, because you’re as clumsy as it gets and you’re not that observant. you could never find him, even if he’s right there. he likes it though; seeing you look for him, that little panicky look in your eyes when you think he’d ever actually abandon you and run off.

he played with you whenever he could—you were both neighbours after all. it was fun, being with you was fun.

you reminded him of new beginnings, like how it feels like jumping into a pool after a long hard day of training, or how the sun feels like hitting your skin on a cold winter day.

it was second nature for him—to seek you out whenever he had a hard time, to look for you when he needed a distraction, to search for you in the crowd to seek some familiarity.

but it’s easy for flimsy things to break. the both of you were just kids, and kids did childish things, like think only for the moment and not further into the future, did silly things like saying you’d marry one another with fake paper rings and forget it the very next day (rin remembers). kids also handle things in a bad way, in the way that leaves no room for the friend they pushed away.

if rin regrets anything from his past, it’s that he took sae’s departure out on you.

rin doesn’t know how to process things well. can’t decide why exactly he’s so pressed about sae’s choice of words. doesn’t know what to make of why he even plays soccer. is it just because of his brother?

he doesn’t fucking know.

rin’s sorry.

it isn’t your fault his brother found a different path. you had nothing to do with it. you and those brownies you cooked for him. he’s sorry that he let them fall to the ground and just stormed off.

that was what, three or four years ago? you’d moved out by then, and the both of you had never spoken since.

if he’s being honest, he misses your presence. maybe it’s the fact that you were his manifestation of a safety net, someone that he could fall back on, someone he could lean on.

maybe he’s just being an asshole.

now he’s seventeen and probably even more of an asshole. if anything, sae’s departure left a bitter taste in his mouth that he wasn’t able to cleanse.

but he’s lucky you’re you. you’re you and that means you don’t hold grudges and you’re still the kindest person he’s ever known.

“rin?”

he stops his hand in mid motion, the key between his fingers dropping onto the wooden floorboards below. rin can’t seem to function anymore—he knows that voice. all too well.

it’s the voice that made him excited as a kid, it’s the same voice that comforted him whenever he fell short of perfect, the same voice that haunts his dreams sometimes at night, even now.

rin turns around and sees you there, at his front porch, smiling all awkwardly and chuckling nervously, your hands in your pocket because you never know what to do with them when you’re uncomfortable.

“hi,” is all he manages to choke out because he’s still a little stunned and his key is long lost and forgotten on the ground.

“hey stranger,” you grin, and his heart beats faster and faster as you get closer and closer.

the both of you are no longer kids, and it’s so painfully obvious now in front of him. he can’t stop fucking staring even if his inner voice is screaming at him to.

“i thought you moved away,” rin manages to say, and because he’s really curious as to why you’re even here, in this place you’re not supposed to be, talking to someone you haven’t spoken to in years.

“i’m, uh, here just to visit my family,” you stutter out, and rin wants to call you out on it so bad, but he can’t do that without exposing himself.

how could he possibly tell you that he knows none of your family is left here in the neighbourhood because he’s asked everyone who used to be in contact with your family? how can he possibly say that without exposing himself for going through your social profiles just to find out that you’ve moved out to another city with your entire family?

so, what are you here for then?

“hey, you wanna, uh, go eat dinner together? or something? later?” you’re so awkward rin could die. rin’s so awkward he could just kill himself.

the silence is deafening and it’s not that he doesn’t want to have dinner with you, it’s just that he has soccer training in the evening and he’s still in shock from the fact that you’re here in the flesh and—

“it’s okay, forget i asked, i was just—”

“no, i mean,” rin trips over his own words and the two of you are just two stupid idiots standing on the itoshi family’s porch doing stupid idiot things. he takes a deep breath, “where should we eat?”

that smile you shoot him is deadly and he wants to keep it forever. if that’s even possible. but he’s really awkward with his feelings and he doesn’t even know what he feels for you. all he knows is that he wants you to stay here again, be within reach for him.

“pick me up at six on your bike?” you nod over to his bicycle, and he blushes so hard because despite getting countless valentines from other girls, none of them have the same effect on him as you do.

rin thinks he should shake his head and say no and pretend like you don’t exist again. he shouldn’t go on this pseudo date with you.

yet he does. he picks you up where you said you’d be, at a hotel near the heart of the city. he’s on his bicycle, just like you asked of him, and you definitely dressed for the ride, comfortable in shorts and a tank top. you’ve gotten from cute to so so pretty and rin finds it so damn difficult to tear his eyes away from you.

when you get on the back of his bicycle, you put your hands around his waist and he can actually feel how fast your heart is beating. rin’s is too, but he’s grateful you probably can’t tell.

also at your request, he takes you to a spot he chose—which is nothing extravagant because you’re both still broke students who haven’t earned your own money, but he thinks you’ll like it anyway.

after getting some cup noodles from a nearby convenience store, he pedals over to the playground the both of you used to spend ages at when you were kids. the place where you used to play hide and seek with each other.

it’s a place of significance. at least, to him. he wonders if you even remember this place.

“nice choice, itoshi rin,” you say, and rin has his answer. “i missed this place.”

and rin missed you, but he isn’t going to say that.

“i’m surprised you remember,” he tells you, choosing to sit down on the swings. you follow and sit on the only other one beside him, your cup noodle hot and ready in your hands. “how’s kyushu?”

you slurp up some of your noodles, and rin thinks you look beautiful just like this anyway. “it’s okay, made some friends so that makes it more tolerable.” you’re shrugging like it’s no big deal, but he can tell by the faraway look in your eyes that there’s more to it.

“tokyo’s better, huh?” he isn’t much for small talk, but he can’t help himself—it’s been far too long without you, and he wants to feel close to you again. it’s as though after everything that happened—sae moving abroad, you moving away, rin feeling lost—it’s like he doesn’t really know how to be your friend anymore.

nodding your head, you turn to him. “much better.”

and rin can’t help but think that there’s a deeper meaning to your answer. but he doesn’t press.

maybe he should’ve, because when you switch the topic, he finds he doesn’t like what he’s hearing.

“anyway, i’m only here for a day,” you tell him, going back to your noodles. “i fly back tomorrow.”

some part of him wants to ask you why you’re even here. he wants to know about the you now, about how much has changed in these few years, what you like now—do you still like hot chocolate in the winter, do you still get colds easily, do you still think about him after all this time?

“are you… going to come back for college?” because if you still wanted to go to university in tokyo, you’d have to move back here. rin thinks he’d like that.

you’re a little taken aback because from what you’d heard from your old friends, rin had become someone they barely recognised; cold, blunt, more like his brother than himself. but in front of you now, you feel like the rin you know is still in there.

but this is where it gets hard.

“actually…” you trail off because you don’t really know where to start. “i got into a university in america. my mother got a job there and she wants me to go with her.”

you don’t even want to look at him right now. you don’t really know what you want to see. some silly part of you wants to see that he minds, that he’ll make a big deal out of you going away somewhere even further than the other side of japan. but if he doesn’t, if he looks like it doesn’t affect him at all, then you don’t think you can handle that.

“oh.” ever the best at giving a non-response, you’re not surprised.

it’s silent for a while, and the two of you are just eating your noodles, and it’s so suffocating that you want to bolt and run but that means you probably won’t ever get to see rin again and you don’t want that.

your body is screaming at you to do something, to say anything, to savour whatever time you have left with rin now properly—but you can’t.

beside you, the gears are turning in his head. rin’s noodles are already gone and he isn’t even aware his chopsticks are grappling around for nothing but soup.

america? that’ll mean you’re at least twelve hours away and he can’t even imagine what that’ll mean for your friendship. or whatever the fuck this muddy waters is.

rin wants to say something, anything—but what? don’t go? when are you coming back? are we ever going to be at the same place at the same time again after tonight?

he’s conflicted between his possible feelings and his selfishness. so he resigns to not saying anything at all. all that’s left for the night is hearing the wind blowing past your faces and the creaking of the swings, very much like how he envisioned a bad goodbye to go.

that night he gives you a ride back to your hotel despite your insistence that it’s late. because who do you take him for? did it mean nothing to you that this might be the last time?

“so, uh, i’ll see you around, i guess,” you say as you step off of his bicycle, after a trip that seems way too fast. rin already misses the sensation of your arms around his waist.

he thinks it’s a stupid sentence. realistically, in every single way he can think it’ll play out, it ends with the both of you drifting apart anyway, and he finds himself wishing you never came back.

which is untrue. which is the furthest it could possibly be from the truth. but rin doesn’t want to think about that right now.

“okay then, goodbye,” rin decides, because he’s not about to get his own hopes up for nothing. if you’re about to vanish, then maybe it’s high time he gets it done.

rin steps on the pedal, but then you stop him, voice clear as the first day he met you. “rin, wait!”

you’re not sure why it slipped out, but it did.

“what is it?”

his eyes are cool, calm, a dead teal that stares right through you. you’re almost intimidated because you’re not sure just what he’s thinking of you right now. he must think you’re a freak, showing up like this and dropping a bomb that he may or may not care about.

“um, nothing, it’s just- is there anything else?”

some part of you wants him to ask you to stay in tokyo. maybe the both of you could find a university together and stay in close proximity, just like when you were kids, just like how you liked it.

just like everything you missed.

and now the two of you are staring at each other, knowing yet not knowing everything that’s going through one another’s mind. but it gets lost in translation because neither of you can find the words to say.

rin blinks at you, and you can’t even read him if you tried. “no, nothing. is there something you wanna say?”

you shake your head, smiling through it. “no, nothing. goodbye.”

you’re back through the hotel double doors before you know it, and rin’s left to watch your silhouette fade away.

for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s lost something precious that he’ll never find again.

life goes on.

rin graduates from high school and so do you. the texting stopped, and that much he expected. better to cut the cord sooner rather than later, even if rin wished for otherwise.

he rides on a full scholarship to university, and from the online grapevines, he hears that you’re doing the same. you’re smart, so he’s not surprised.

this is the right thing to do; both of you have your own lives to concentrate on. some stupid crush doesn’t matter. and yes, rin has already conceded to the feeling because he can’t explain this any other way.

his frustration that comes from your separation, his anger when it comes to being helpless, his endless regret from not saying anything that night—it’s only because he wants you.

“i hear y/n’s doing good at her new school,” rin hears his mom cooing from the kitchen. he sighs. of course she did, yours and his moms are both close. yet another channel through which he can get updates on you, warranted or not.

“yeah?” he pretends not to care much, but he’s hanging on her every word.

“yeah, it’s valentines’ day around the corner too, i hear she has lots of guys lining up.”

kill him. kill him right fucking now.

“good for her.” good for you he’s not there to stare daggers at all the guys ogling at you. good for you he’s not there to commit bloody murder.

“i think so too, ah she’s all grown up,” his mother chatters on, completely oblivious to the torment she’s subjecting her son to. “i hear she’s having her first date next week, i heard he’s a model too, did she talk to you about it?”

you must’ve played it off to your mother that you and rin are fine. rin sighs, tired of the thoughts running through his head. as if soccer wasn’t tiring enough already.

“don’t know, maybe.”

just like his feelings for you, and his willingness to act on it.

two years into university and it isn’t that hard for him anymore.

actual lectures and assignments take up half of his time, and the other half is reserved for soccer. with teammates like isagi yoichi and bachira meguru annoying him even outside of practice, rin doesn’t even have much time to think of you.

until he’s forced to.

“what about you, rin? is there anyone special in your life?”

bachira tuts, “isagi, he’s always buried in books and practicing soccer, it’s obviously a no.”

rin’s annoyed, half because what bachira said is true and half because isagi made him think of you. it’s been a while since he knew what was up with you. you’re probably doing well, probably thriving in that environment, probably all in love with your boyfriend—that stupid yukimiya kenyu that you accepted for valentine’s last year.

he carefully extracts himself from isagi and bachira’s bickering, feigning that he’s looking through the aisle for books except what he’s really doing is scrolling through his phone and hunting for your profile.

what other way is he supposed to get updates? definitely not from you, because you’ve been so fucking radio silent since that night.

all that rin sees that day is a story posted to your account. just a backdrop of the view in your city with the words some things just aren’t meant to be.

you’re right. some things aren’t. including the both of you. so rin tucks his phone away in his pocket and goes about his day, half happy that it sounds like you’re not with yukimiya anymore, half concerned that this is what the both of you became.

somehow he’s here. he’s right fucking here and it’s him this time that’s going to surprise you. unintentionally. or intentionally, if you argued that he agreed to come in the first place.

“isn’t this place so beautiful?” his mother’s words are lost on him. he’s too busy thinking of you.

his mother’s here to visit your mother and by extension he guesses you’ll be there. it’s supposedly the summer break anyway.

and you really are there, on your front porch this time, freezing up when you catch sight of rin walking up your driveway.

nothing can describe his relief when you actually walk up to him and talk to him, because a part of him was expecting you to slap him for some reason.

“still watching horror movies for fun?” you ask him when you’re finally alone together, away from the ruckus of both your moms.

you missed him, he and his teal eyes and his absurdly longer fringe and his awkward demeanour. he’s a long shot from the person you knew as a kid. he’s taller, more muscles, more stoic, handsome. you were too shy to look at him properly that night in tokyo, but you can now.

“i don’t really have time for fun.” rin turns away, a little horrified you remember as much about him as you do. you’d been asking him things you remember from back when you guys were five. “how’re things here?”

you hum in contemplation, like you’re considering your words, and rin looks at you this time, admiring the way you look in the sunlight, the smile stuck onto your face, the voice that he’d never get tired of.

“it’s fine, school’s great, boyfriend’s great, everything’s… great.”

boyfriend?

“that yukimiya guy?”

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. he didn’t mean to say that. fuck. you’re gonna know he stalked you. he doesn’t even fucking follow you, he has no good excuse for knowing that.

you blink once, twice, confused and then getting bashful from the realisation. “um, yeah. things were rocky at first and then it got better so…”

rin is internally strangling himself. he needs to stop having thoughts about a taken girl. he needs to stop wondering what you taste like, what you look like in the mornings when you just wake up, what you’d sound like when you’re sleepy.

“that’s… good.”

the two of you are awkward to bits and he wishes he was someone different right now.

the day ends with nothing substantial. rin couldn’t talk much after he hears you’re still with yukimiya. you couldn’t even stay much because you had plans with him anyway. who’s he to stand in your way? rin’s just an old friend from the past. that’s all. there’s nothing more.

that’s what he thinks. until that same night when he’s all packed and ready to go for the next afternoon’s flight. all because you called him out of the blue. he’s amazed you still have his number.

“hey, rin.”

from the first moment you opened your mouth, he can tell you’re crying. shit, why are you crying?

“are you okay?” because you’re probably the only person in the world who can tug on his heartstrings like this. for being the only person in this world he has feelings for.

you’re forcing a laugh, like you’re not sure what to say. rin doesn’t really know either.

“am i not worth anything?” your question takes him off guard.

doesn’t take a genius to know something probably happened between you and yukimiya. and it doesn’t take much for you to get rin bolting out the door.

“where are you?”

“home,” you sniffle, and you must hear him getting into a cab, “i’m fine, you don’t have to come—”

“i’m coming,” he tells you, firmly, and he can almost tell you’re smiling from the other side of the line.

rin’s heart is racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins. he’s not sure why, but he’s ached to get closer to you since forever, and he passed it up the last time, the previous time you met in tokyo.

his heart’s still racing when you let him into the house, when it’s all dark and unfamiliar and you’re so close to him he can smell the shampoo off your hair.

apparently yukimiya never got over his first love, and you’d caught him locked in a kiss with her right before your dinner.

he’s not good with these situations. at comforting people, at being so close to the girl he likes that he’s trying his very best not to fucking kiss her right now. how does he tell you that you’re good enough, right now, when you keep rambling on and on about how you think you’re not? he really wants to shut you up but he can only think of kissing you and maybe that’s not a can of worms you want to open right now.

besides, if he does that, you might look at him as something temporary, a crutch you need right now but not for the long run and call him crazy but if he’s going to try this much for you, he doesn’t want to be the rebound.

but god fucking damn it, he’ll kill himself if he chickens out now.

you fall asleep after crying your guts out, and rin’s barely said ten words to you all night. he carries you to your room, puts you down on your bed and he resists placing a kiss on your forehead even if you won’t know it.

there’s no time left here for him, he’ll have to go back home tomorrow afternoon and you’ll be worlds apart once again. tonight may have been just a fluke; you probably just needed someone and rin was a safe bet.

he writes something down on a rough paper sitting on your desk and leaves it there before he goes. it’s irritating, how much you’re making him think, how much you’re making him flip flop between various moods.

one moment he decides to leave you alone and the next moment he doesn’t want to leave your side. there’s just something about seeing you so heartbroken that he can’t forgive.

and how kind the world is, to serve the guy who broke your heart to rin in a silver platter. he’d recognise that hair and those glasses anywhere—yukimiya kenyu.

“who’re you?”

rin doesn’t respond, only pushes him away. “if you know what’s good for you, leave.”

“what are you talking about?”

“i know what you did to y/n.”

yukimiya sighs, “look that’s what i wanted to talk to y/n about. i wanted to do this properly, to talk it out with her properly but then my ex was the one who—”

“shut the fuck up, i don’t care.”

yukimiya looks like he wants to retaliate, like he wants to argue back, and it would’ve probably turned into an all-out brawl if your mother didn’t rush out of the house at just the right time.

rin doesn’t bother with anything else after that. he leaves even though your mother tells him he can stay. frankly, he’s not sure he can stand being in the same room as yukimiya without giving him a punch.

the next morning comes and you haven’t left any messages. rin’s already back in japan for a while when you decide you’re finally ready to call him. but he’s heartbroken from thinking he was stupid to leave you that note so he rarely pays attention to his phone.

you end up having to leave it on his voicemail instead.

you said to call you if i wanted to try and… i do.

whatever yukimiya had come to say to you that night, it probably didn’t work, because rin does hear your voicemail. he hears your voice saying that you want to try, with him, and he thinks he may have been dreaming for a while.

but then he plays it over and over and over again.

he’s a few years late, but better late than never, he thinks.

you have two more years before you get your degree, and rin’s not about to get in between that. what he does do is pay you a visit from time to time because he hates this goddamn physical distance between the both of you.

it starts with the both of you talking to each other over the phone, the painfully awkward conversations turning more and more bearable. after a while, you’re the one getting him out of his shell, purposely teasing him all the time, getting reactions out of him.

he stays over at your apartment near school whenever he visits. you share the same bed for the first time and somehow it’s not uncomfortable. he lays beside you like he’s meant to be there. and you fall asleep so fast whenever he’s there, like he’s your damn lullaby.

distance starts to feel like nothing for the both of you, because it never wanes your feelings. even when he’s in japan and you’re halfway across the world, it doesn’t feel like you’re very far.

besides, he likes how it is—you chase your dreams, he chases his. the future can wait. the uncertainties can come later.

they come faster than he bargained for.

you’re nearing graduation while he’s nearing the end of his current contract term with a japanese club, but you’ve scored a job with one of the hottest startups in america. which means you’re going to be there.

for a long while.

“take it,” rin tells you, because you’ve called him to tell him this because you don’t know if you want to. but he can tell, like he always can when it comes to you. you want to take it, and he’s the only factor that’s stopping you. because before now, you’ve been thinking of coming back to tokyo and working at one of the bigger firms here.

looks like that plan’s not going to pan out though, because rin will kill himself before he becomes the reason that you’re not being the best version of yourself.

“but that means…”

there you go, hesitating again.

“we’ll figure it out. we did it once before, we’ll do it again.”

you chuckle in relief because somehow, itoshi rin has become your rock. he went from being some stoic and inexpressive human to being your voice of reason.

“you’re right, you’re right,” you concede. because yes, he’s always right somehow.

so you accept the offer, signing yourself away for another five years.

“what does that mean for the both of you though?”

you sigh. you’re not sure. rin hasn’t said much beyond what he did during that phone call nearly a year back, and he hasn’t come to visit for a few months now so you can’t really tell what’s going on in his head.

long distance sucks.

“i don’t know, mom,” you confess, “i don’t want this to be the end. but i can’t see a future where the both of us are always in different countries.”

your mother doesn’t say anything much after that, it’s not like she has any personal experience on the matter.

you think about it all throughout your finals period, all throughout your graduation transition. you’re not sure that you and rin can just make it through this by just winging it like how you’d always been. and you think maybe rin is just full of it, maybe he’s just as much in denial about this as you are. he hasn’t even been texting you as much nowadays, not after the news.

your phone vibrates on your table as you’re idly staring out the window. it’s a week to graduation.

a text from rin.

meet me after your ceremony next week, we need to talk.

and the anxiety kicks in.

rin shows up at your graduation ceremony like he said he would. he dresses up nicely, white dress shirt and black pants—simple, classy, handsome. you can spot him even from where you are, up near the stage.

yeah, you’d been nervous ever since he sent you that text.

it didn’t help that he didn’t talk to you much up until today, when his flight landed and he’d told you about it even though he knows you have his flight details in your handy little app.

when you run over to him after the ceremony, you find quite a funny sight before your eyes. never in your life did you think you’d ever see rin looking sharp as ever in a white shirt and pants only to be carrying what looks like a bouquet of—not flowers but—nuggets on sticks and chocolate.

rin smiles sheepishly when you get to him. “you don’t want flowers right?”

yeah, you’re in love with him. dorky, stupid rin with his abstract ways of showing love. you love how he remembers details like this since way back when you were kids. you love his awkwardness and his acts of service. you love him and everything he has and all that he doesn’t.

“thanks, i love it,” you gush, taking the bouquet from him, accepting your parents’ offer to help take a picture of the both of you.

they take a ton of pictures.

in one of them, rin kisses your temple and you think you might melt. in another, you kiss his cheeks in return and he’s a deep shade of red. those are before the last picture where he turns you to face him and presses a kiss on your lips, earning a few whistles from the people around you.

you punch him playfully on the chest for that. you hear him chuckle and that might be your favorite sound ever.

rin surprises you too, because the next thing you know, he’s dragging you along with him, running to his car parked by the curb; you’re wondering how he even had the time to rent it.

“where are we going?”

your gown is long discarded into the back seats and rin only offers you a smirk in return. he’s not telling, and you roll your eyes and let it be.

whatever it is, you’re excited.

maybe it’s the fact that you had been thinking the worst up until this point. or maybe it’s the fact that he has his hand on your bare thigh. hell, it could even just be the fact that you’re sitting in a car with the prettiest guy you’ve ever met. but your heart is beating out of your chest and for the first time, you feel like this can be nothing but good news.

rin proves you right, because he takes you somewhere unfamiliar and then tells you why exactly he’s been distant the past week. he takes your hand and leads you through the front doors of what he now calls “our house”.

everything you’ve ever told him you wanted in your dream house; wooden overheads, small koi pond out back, a beautiful rooftop garden with a wooden porch swing.

everything.

he made it real. he made your dream house without you asking. he’s telling you he’ll move here if that’s what it takes to be with you. he tells you he loves you more than he can ever imagine loving anything else at all. he says that he’ll always be with you, and this time he doesn’t want to be apart to do it.

he asks you, “will you try to make it work with me?”

as if he even needs to.

if anyone asked you back then if you thought rin was capable of any of this, you’d say no. because the boy you knew at five is passive, quiet, not the kind to make declarations like these.

yet here he is, almost twenty years later, promising to put you first and make this last because he’s sure this is what he wants.

“itoshi rin,” you slowly call his name, roping your arms around his shoulder while the both of you look at each other and only each other as you stand on the staircase landing. “what would you have done if i said no?”

because this is all extravagant—rin put his everything into this. dug up all the memories of your dream house, ran himself haggard just to get all of this done on time, and who knows what else because he kept all of this from you?

rin has a straight face, beautiful teal eyes rolling to the side as he contemplates. “guess that was never an option in my head.”

“you’re so stupid,” you tease, pressing a kiss onto his soft lips and relishing in the fact that this is just the first kiss of many to come.

because he’s now here. here with you. and he’s here to stay.

“guess that’s why i need you around to take care of me,” rin teases back, biting his lower lip and smirking at you.

you jump up and he catches you, your legs crossed behind his back as he carries you to the kitchen, setting you down on the countertop.

“so, itoshi rin,” you say again, suppressing a grin. “does that mean you’re gonna make me your wife one day?”

rin sighs and rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “okay, trouble, dial back a bit now. one step at a time.”

he’s lying through his teeth, a ring passed down through his family for generations already nestled neatly in the hidden compartment of the nightstand in the bedroom. he’s lying—but you don’t need to know that. not yet.

you’re all trouble, and all beautiful and all his and rin is going to marry you someday.

because he may be dumb in a lot of ways, may be a little awkward and terrible in most situations and not the friendliest guy out there. but somehow you chose him and you always did and you always will so he’s not going to let you regret that decision.

so before you can make a comeback and expose him for really wanting to marry you, he kisses you to shut you up, and you know anyway.

because you’ve known rin since you were five, playing hide and seek in the playground. you never won because you could never find him. but you think now you have; you’ve found him and he’s not going anywhere. not anymore.

“i’m never gonna let you leave me, itoshi rin.”

he chuckles, “i’m all yours, trouble.”

#bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #blue lock x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x you #rin x you #rin x y/n #itoshi rin x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

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roturo · 1 year

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Chishiya x reader where y/n is younger than chishiya and he teases her about it and they eventually fuck sknejrmtkrnf

TELL ME

“It seems like a dream, you’re loving me.”

CHISHIYA X AFAB! READER

Chishiya is 25 / Reader 19

WARNINGS: SMUT. SEMI-PUBLIC SEX. (Kinda enemies to lovers ¿? And fluff at the end)

You’ve been knowing Chishiya for a while now, mostly because both of you were on the same group and most of the time coincide.

And it’s pretty obvious you have a crush on him.

But it’s not like you could go with him, ask him out, kiss him, and be boyfriend and girlfriend.

Why? Well, it’s simple: first, he’s like really distant with you. He barely talks! You tried to get closer to him, but it’s like he treats you like a little kid. You’re not a little kid! You’re now 19! And that’s already an adult.

The only small talks both of you have? it’s insulting eachother!

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You said to him. Do I have something on the face?! You touched your face concerned that you might have some food… that’s so embarrassing. What if he’s laughing about you? Oh nonono.

"Sorry, force of habit. Staring at your stupid face, that is." This son of a bitch! Who does he think he is?!

“Hey! Both of you. Stop fighting.” Kuina said, I don’t know how she’s been so patient to be spending time with both of you .

“He started it!” You exclaimed pointing at him.

“Has anyone ever mistaken you for being in middle school before?"

“What?” Kuina said,” “what does it have to do with-“

“Oh my god. I can’t stand you anymore Chishiya. Good bye.”

When you were leaving you just could hear him laughing and leaving a very confused Kuina. God… why his laugh is so pretty too?

But. As everything in excess becomes a bad thing, this teasing also become something bad.

Maybe it wasn’t teasing anymore? He might hate you. It’s like, he doesn’t even apologize and just ignores you!

So, you decided to ignore him for a day, maybe you could see if he really cares about you. It made you really sad that the person that you loved in this world treats you this way.

. -

“No, I don’t like her. She’s too loud and obnoxious and she’s still young to even understand what’s going on here. I don’t even know why did you accept her being in the group.”

Kuina was indeed schoked. She couldn’t believe Chishiya doesn’t like you. Like, yeah.. he’s not the best showing emotions but he’s not a bad person! Maybe he just needs a little push for him to start talking better to you.

“You’ve been an asshole to her. She’s done everything she can to like you! I don’t understand why you’re so mean to her.”

Am I too harsh? Shit. Maybe I should apologize..

“Whatever.”

. -

Now both of you were at the pool. You were having a nice day not until you saw him. He had his typical swim-trucks and his white jacket that showed just right his collar bone. Stop.

Both of you locked eyes, you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing. Even if you’re mad at him he still made you weak. He gave you a small sign of ‘come here’ by moving his head slightly to the left.

How could you say no to him? He had you wrapped around his finger.

He lead you to a place far away from the pool where both of you could have some privacy, he seemed different. Was he nervous? Why is he playing too much with his hands in his pockets?

“Look… I just wanted to say-“

Before he could even talk more, you asked him “Those things you said yesterday.. do you mean it?”

Okay. He couldn’t do this anymore.

“I didn’t mean it like that… I was trying to.. tease you.” Because I love you.

“No way in hell. Are you blushing right now?!” You couldn’t believe this, are you making him blush?!

“Stop it. I’m not blushing. You’re just making things up.” This is too good to be true. He’s really blushing!

“It’s okay Chishiya, some times we get too far away, and I know you don’t mean it, it’s just that we don’t measure what we say. I already talked it with Arisu about this and-“

“Arisu? What did he said to you?” he interrupted you before you could finish your sentence.

“Umm..”

. -

“No shit. It’s pretty obvious you have a crush on him..” He said looking at the map and the crossed the areas where you guys have played.

“Then what should I do?”

“Fuck him?”

“Arisu!”

. -

“It doesn’t matter what he told me.. Just so you know i’m not mad at you, I preferred having some distance with you since it’s like pretty obvious I annoy you, so I didn’t wanted to be-“

He shut you down by kissing you and grabbing you by the hips, making your bodies get closer and hotter each second passing.

You spent so many nights trying to hide how you feel, now you’re in this fantasy that you thought could never be real.

And here you are, locking eyes, both with the same feeling and want.

“You don’t know how much i’ve been waiting to kiss you. Every time you taunt me it only makes me want you more.” He pulls you again closer to him, you could feel how hard he was getting through his shorts. Detaching himself from your lips, he places open mouth kisses and bites across your shoulders. He lingers over the space between your collarbones, breathing in the scent of your skin along with the perfume.

“Please fuck me ‘taro” This still seems like a dream, you’ve waiting for this moment too long now.

“You are incredibly beautiful.” He kisses down your neck while holding your arms. As he goes lower you kiss him back. He was so entranced by your everything, he didn’t even notice you pulling down his shorts. They pool at his ankles and he kicks them off, never separating from you. His hands drag down your backside to your thighs, motioning for you to turn around. Once you do, he kisses below your ear while taking off your bikini with his hands.

He spreads your legs with his feet, entering his fingers with no warning. As he pushes his fingers deep inside, you let out a yelp and look down.

“Chis… chishiya I need you inside me” You moaned when his fingers got that specific place that your small fingers couldn’t reach.

You were about to come, and he could feel that when you’re clenching too hard into his fingers, so in one swift motion he enters inside you and both of you moaned at the feeling. Chishiya snakes his hand over your neck, using his fingers to tilt your head back up.

The way his brows furrowed as he looked down to where he disappeared inside of you, the flex of his abdomen as he moved his hips, the sweat starting to surface all over his body, all of it made your body heat up.

A particularly rough stroke makes your knees buckle. Chishiya doesn’t let you fall. Instead, he uses his strength to keep you up. Both of you were not too far away from The Pool (but at a private space) but you couldn’t care less if they heard you moan.

Each thrust makes you take in a breath, your moans and requests come out in stutters. Despite your state, he doesn’t slow down, keeping his fast pace to bring you both to the edge.

As much as he wants you to come together, the way your walls keep squeezing him makes him want to release right then and there. He can feel your walls flutter, and the way your hips are lifting, trying to separate yourself from him; he knows you’re starting to come.

Both of you came at the same time with one specific thrust that made you see stars.

He pulls out and helps you getting dressed again and try to seem the most presentable both of you can. You turn around to look him at the eyes. He looks so beautiful right now. His eyes are full of love. He wished you could see yourself like how he sees you. Because you’re perfect for him.

“Chishiya… please tell me, do I like you?”

“You’re the one for me, now and always. I’ll do whatever I can to see you again in the real world. I don’t like you. I want you. I love you.”

. -

“So you indeed fucked!” Arisu said, Kuina bursting out laughing.

Thank god the three of you were at his room because if Chishiya could see how red you are right now, he wouldn’t stop teasing you about it.

#chishiya smut #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya fluff #aib arisu #aib season 2 #aib niragi #aib #kuina alice in borderland #chishiya alice in borderland #alice in borderland x reader #alice in boderland x reader #alice in borderland

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thursdayinspace · 8 days

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So much to say about the Duane Barry episodes and Scully's abduction, but mostly I find it amazing how much relationship development they managed to pack into a handful of episodes that Scully is barely in at all. It's already set up nicely: the hostage negotiation, Mulder being frustrated because first he's asked to help and then has to find out they're withholding information from him. Once again, he's not being taken seriously; he has to turn to Scully again even though they're not even partners anymore. He still relies on her, she's still the only one he can really trust. She comes all the way out there with the information she digs up when she can't reach him. She talks into his ear to help him resolve the situation. Afterwards, when they find that implant in Duane Barry, they try to figure that out together as well. As we've seen throughout all the episodes before, they fall back into their partnership easily, like it's the most natural thing in the world for them. And then she's abducted and everything falls apart. That's where it really picks up and it becomes clear that everything up to this point has been little more than a (very well done and important) prologue.

Mulder's silence at the beginning of "Ascension" is almost frightening. It's certainly intense. Somewhere between withdrawn and hyperfocused, with a good dose of fear mixed in. He tells Scully's mother that she's not in her apartment, and after that we don't hear him speak again until a good way into the conversation in Skinner's office the next morning, a good five minutes into the episode even though he's in every scene before then. And when he barely puts up a fight when Skinner tells him to go home, you know he's going rogue. He does not trust them to find Scully, and he certainly can't sit and wait while she's out there with Duane Barry.

He pushes himself beyond his limits, almost falling asleep at the wheel but refusing to let Krycek drive -- he doesn't give up the tiniest sliver of control. When the tram operator won't let them take the tram up the mountain, Mulder has no problem showing him his gun. He pushes the tram beyond safety limits. Does his acrobatics out in the open who knows how high up in the air -- risking his life -- after Krycek stops the tram.

And holy shit the way he loses it when he spots Scully's blood and hair on Duane Barry's hospital band is truly scary, I don't think we've ever seen him that angry before. But on second thought, maybe angry is the wrong word. He's acting out of fear and panic. I don't think even an angry Mulder would choke anyone. He isn't thinking straight anymore, his responses are almost primal at this point. He hasn't slept, he's running on adrenaline, he's no closer to finding Scully and now he knows she's injured.

Finding out about Krycek, Skinner reopening the x files . . . it all seems almost secondary. Not as important as his meeting with Scully's mother and her telling him to keep the cross necklace. He didn't have anyone this entire time to lean on or to talk to. And he still doesn't, but this is the closest he gets. He and Scully's mom are in similar places. For them, this is personal. I love that they're bonding over this, over their love for Scully and their worry about her. (Whatever meaning you want to read into the word "love" between Mulder and Scully at this point.)

The beginning of "One Breath" is so intense, Mulder running into that room in the hospital to find her lying there unconscious, hooked up to a respirator. Anger fueled by blind panic. "Who brought her here?" "How did she get here?" "Who did this to her?" "Listen, if you’re hiding anything, I swear, I will do anything, whatever it takes, I will find out what they did to her!" I love the scene and I absolutely love the way it's acted, big thumbs up to DD. Getting her back could have been the emotional release of that arc, but she comes back in a coma. It spikes the angst to a whole new level. Before, he didn't know whether she was okay or not, he could hold onto hope. Now he knows she's not okay. Getting her back does not let him finally sit down and take a deep breath and process any of it. Nothing is resolved, the fight is just taken elsewhere.

I just want to take a second to think about the fact that he sigend her living will as her witness. That is. A very intimate thing to do. And that moment needs to get the credit it deserves. Knowing that they have talked about the event of her being unable to decide for herself, knowing she let him in, let him sign it, and the fact that he did it? That is a huge HUGE thing.

What is really intriguing is that Mulder and Melissa clash in the way they do, because you'd expect them to get along. I wonder if they would have gotten along better had they met under different circumstances. But here, Mulder is in a very different place. He tends to go to extremes when the stakes are high, his single-minded focus in this moment doesn't allow for anything but action. He still believes he can do something. He doesn't even go in with them when they decide to pull the plug -- he refuses to accept a reality where she dies. We see that again in the cancer arc, where he tells her as much when she tells him her cancer is untreatable.

If anyone would go to the trouble of putting together a list of the top ten most heartbreaking moments from the entire show, Mulder's visit to CSM and the way his voice breaks when he asks "Why her?" would have to be on it. "Why her and not me?" It's the way he says it, but it's also what's in that question that makes it so heartbreaking. Because that's what it all boils down to. He feels guilty. He asked in the hospital "Who did this to her?" And throughout these episodes, in his head, he has always considered that person to be himself. He did this to her. Something we get to hear again and again all the way into the revival when he tells her he wishes she'd left that basement earlier so she'd have been spared from all the things that happened to her. He feels responsible.

(Just a short digression: He is not responsible. I feel like that's a very important thing to remember. Something her brother should have been told in the cancer arc too. Holding Mulder responsible robs Scully of all agency and makes her nothing more than a loyal puppy. But unpacking Bill Jr.'s implicit misogyny, and why the way Mulder feels responisble for everything is not the same thing, that is for another post. If anyone has thoughts on that though, I'd love to hear them.)

A real Mulder moment is him choosing not to take revenge on the men responsible for Scully's abduction, after X pretty much hand-delivers them to him on a silver tray, but rather to go to the hospital after Melissa tells him it might be his last chance, that Scully is dying. He will choose Scully over everything every time. Sitting at her bedside, taking her hand, the way he speaks to her -- it becomes clear how deep the feelings go but also how fragile and undefined it all is between them. They're friends, they're partners, they've flirted, they've told each other some of their deepest secrets, and he has no idea how to be around her now. "I don’t know if my being here . . . will help bring you back. But I’m here." His pause there before "will help bring you back" kills me. He honestly has no idea. He can hope, but he just doesn't know if he'd be a contributing factor in her decision to come back or move on, if she even hears him, if it's even in her control. (I've always wondered when he says in the revival that he invented wishing someone back to life when she was in the hospital, whether he was talking about her cancer or about this moment, or maybe both.)

He gets his breakdown once he comes back home to his destroyed apartment. Sliding down the wall crying -- such a moment. There's no anger in that anymore. No action. He expects to be losing her at that point and all the fight has left him. Until he gets the phone call that she's okay.

Could the episode have benefited from a slightly longer scene at the end? Maybe. It seems a bit anticlimactic, after all he's been through, that he walks into her room, gives her that silly tape (such a Mulder thing to do), hands her the cross necklace back, and that's pretty much it. On the other hand, considering the scene by her bedside before, maybe it fits. He doesn't know where he stands with her, and she's with her family.

I do think the ending is a bit abrupt, but that can easily be forgiven with all that those episodes provided before that. If anyone can see more in that ending than I do, I'd love to hear it because I really don't quite know what to make of it. But they seriously sent Mulder on a journey there, and it worked. And it sets so many things in motion, for the plot and for their relationship.

#txf #the x files #x files #fox mulder #x files meta #thursday's x-files rewatch #I think I have to rewatch them again

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 7 days

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Emily Prentiss x Reader Headcanons

Mostly SFW, but a few lil spicy ones throughout (below the line).

Chews on pens/pencils when she's anxious or deep in thought and it's inexplicably hot.

Has a glass of very nice, very expensive red wine every night.

Fluent in Arabic, French, Spanish, and Italian. Passable in Russian.

Seems quiet and mysterious at first but is actually just a huge dork.

Breaks down crying every time before starting her period and will say, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm so emotional today," and you're like... "Babe, don't you start tomorrow?"

Usually a no-strings-attached-sex kind of person, mostly because relationships are hard with her job. You're the exception.

Will fold like a wet napkin for nice chocolate.

Notorious for ghosting lol. Sometimes even used a fake name. A bad habit from her undercover days.

Not subtle at all when coming on to you. Pretty much asked you for a date out of the blue.

Loves that you can talk about the deep, dark stuff, but can also make her laugh like no one else.

If for any reason you wake up in the night–stomachache, nightmare, scary storm–she is up with you. She'll claim she can't sleep either, but really she just wants to hold you and make sure you get back to sleep okay.

Watches you breathe at night. She finds it deeply comforting.

Takes you once a year to her grandfather’s cottage in the French Alps, where she spent a lot of time growing up.

Grew up Catholic. She’s not religious anymore, but sometimes she still likes to listen to old hymns and chants, like they had at the mass she and her mom attended in Italy.

Opens every door for you always. In fact, she’ll be hurt if you don’t let her open the door.

An incredibly good listener. She loves hearing about your day, no matter how mundane it was, because her days are usually filled with the darkest, most horrific things.

Has two tattoos. (1) On her ankle. A word from the Qur’an (لِّتَسۡكُنُوۡۤ) that roughly translates to “that you may find tranquility.” She got it in Italy when she started to realize she liked girls, because girls were the only people in whom she ever found tranquility. (2) On her hip. A small asterisk a la Kurt Vonnegut.

Insanely protective. She will not let anyone touch you, say anything to you, even look at you with nefarious intentions.

Has a little note on her phone where she writes down your favorite things–takeout, flowers, ice cream flavors, the brand of tampons you use–so she'll always remember.

“Call me when you get there.” Has to know where you are at all times. You gave up arguing and just constantly have your phone location shared with her. It’d be suffocating except that, given her job, it makes sense.

Loves that you are so independent. She’s watched too many BAU relationships fall apart because their partner was frustrated with the demanding BAU work schedule. You don’t really mind. Of course, you miss her, but you also really like your alone time, so things balance out nicely.

Puzzle fiend. There’s almost always a puzzle going on the coffee table.

Queen of leaving people on read. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that texts usually fall by the wayside when she’s in the field.

Secretly loves it so much when you brag about her. She’ll act all embarrassed about it, but it means a lot that you’re proud of her.

A hipster in the sense that if something is popular, she automatically decides she doesn’t like it. You make fun of her a lot for this.

Falls in love with you every time she notices one of your little gestures–having a second go-bag packed and ready at all times, doing the laundry, packing little granola bars in her purse because you know she forgets to stop for lunch, returning books to the library for her, etc.

Incredibly stubborn. Thankfully, you are, too, so you’re well-matched. On the downside, sometimes it takes forever to make a decision because neither of you are willing to back down.

Swears like a sailor when she’s not at work.

Kind of quiet with other people, but will talk with you late into the night, until you fall asleep. You love that you get to fall asleep to her voice.

Touches you like you’re made of gold, like you were made to be cherished and held on to.

Cheek/nose/forehead kisses. all. the. time.

Kisses you good morning and good night, every time, no matter when she gets home or when she leaves.

You would never guess it, but she lives for gossip. She doesn’t want to be part of the drama, but she sure as hell wants to know about it.

Drives her wild (in bed and out) that you are 100% hers. It is not in your nature to cheat, you are wholly devoted to your person, and she is over the moon that she’s that person.

Acts like a top, is a top.

Can drink coffee at midnight and be conked out twenty minutes later.

After a particularly hard case, she’ll come home and want to just hold you really tight against her chest, sometimes for an hour or more. You always let her.

Big spoon, always. She likes to feel like she’s keeping you safe.

Favorite food is the sweet potato burrito from Muchas Gracias, but they only have them at lunch and she is never in DC at lunchtime, so sometimes you go buy her one and pack it for her for lunch the next day. It makes her day every time.

Honestly it’s a struggle when you have to get up before her because she has you in a ninja death grip that is almost impossible to get out of.

Her feet are always cold, so she has a huge collection of fuzzy socks.

Movie buff. Has a giant checklist of all the Oscar noms during awards season, and you watch one almost every night she’s home.

Loves to shower with you. You will get clean, but you’ll get fucked first.

A wizard with a wand (iykwim).

She still gets butterflies when you hold hands.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss hcs #emily prentiss headcanons #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds hcs

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7-wonders · 2 months

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In Waking Hours

Roommate!Calliope & GN!Reader (platonic)

Summary: Calliope's planning to enjoy a nice, quiet evening sitting outside under the moon and enjoying her relative freedom when she sees you still haunted by a particularly brutal nightmare. Plans change, because she's not about to let you face the worst parts of her former husband's realm alone, obviously.

Word count: 3.6k

A note from the author: (You don't have to, but you'll have a lot more backstory if you read To the world we dream about first)

Shitty summary but you have a nightmare and Calliope's like "well this is my emotional support human so I can't not help!" WOW this is the first time I've felt truly inspired when writing in months. S/o Calliope girl hope I'm doing you proud by giving you the stories and love you deserve.

So, I know that this isn't going to get a lot of love since there's no actual Morpheus in this, just mentions which means my normal tags can’t be used, but I love this little fic-verse I've created so much that I have to write it. (All this is to say please show this fic some love if you enjoyed!!!) This isn't romantic, but there are definitely romantic fics in the pipeline. The nice thing about a loose fic-verse is that there are plenty of fics for you to read if you don't want an eventual throuple :)

(But hopefully there will be plenty of fics for you to read if you do want an eventual throuple)

I would be remiss to not shout out the reason this fic-verse exists in the first place and the person that I can talk about any and every random fic idea with, the lovely @ivandra-winters! Thank you, thank you, thank you for everything.

Calliope doesn’t really sleep well anymore.

Not that she needs sleep in general. She’s a goddess, after all, and divine beings such as herself only sleep because they want to, because they feel like indulging in all the wonders available to them upon closing their eyes. Few things truly and regularly excite beings of myth, but the Dreaming is one of those few things. Only very rarely, such as in cases of extreme injury, do they need to sleep. Mostly, sleeping is a comfort, a way to pass the time.

In the early days of her imprisonment, after Erasmus Fry first captured her, Calliope thought that she would use sleep for both. Though her relationship with her husband had ended about as terribly as a relationship can end, the Dreamlord had never reneged on his promise to always give Calliope the sweetest of dreams. She would rest, then, and find a distraction and comfort in the Dreaming until someone, be it her sisters or her mothers or somebody seeking her favor, would save her.

Then, she found out all the terrible things one person can do to another while they’re unconscious.

Even though she’s now safe, the once-familiar action no longer comes easy to her. Almost every time she’s tried—and those have been few and far between—she wakes up in a panic before she can fall asleep enough to even make it to the Dreaming. When she closes her eyes, she sees them once more. Both of them, Fry and Madoc, taking what was never theirs in the first place. She feels their cruel, rough hands on her body, hears their voices demanding that she give them inspiration for their works.

(Works that she wishes would be little more than drivel. But no, nothing inspired—forcefully or not—by her could ever be drivel. They’re wild successes every time, and so the men just continue to take take take until Calliope thinks that she has nothing left to give. But she does, because she is the Muse of Epic Poetry, and for as long as people still believe in her, she shall be a source of inspiration. And so she continues to be drained like a tree of its sap, an essence so integral to her being that she knows not who she is without it. Until one day, when Madoc returns to his home ranting and raving—and there is a knock at the door.)

Calliope’s been doing some reading on the device that you gave her, the one that’s like a digital library, and she believes she might have what today’s humans call Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The inability to sleep, the flashbacks, the ever-present hum of vigilance that still thrums under her skin and warns her that the threat might be just around the corner—it’s all there, and it’s all her. It’s humiliating to think about it as a possibility, and more humiliating still to see herself in the words written.

Goddesses shouldn’t have trauma! They shouldn’t even be in a position where trauma could be inflicted on them! She misses the age when she was at her strongest, the age when people worshipped the very ground she walked on, dropping to their knees in reverence and begging for her gifts.

But that world is long gone, and Calliope has landed in a new one that is entirely foreign to her. Slowly, though, she likes to think that she’s adjusting. Since the night is long and sleeping is not an option for her at present, she finds other ways to pass the hours when the rest of the world rests. The 21st century is new and exciting, and there is much to catch up on.

Not only is she learning more about this new world, but she’s also learning herself all over. There are hobbies that she gets to discover once more, enjoyments that she forgot were hers. She listens to music (music now is…very different from even a hundred years ago, but there have been some works that she enjoys) and reads—not just the books that tell her things about herself that she does not wish to hear, but she reads epics! And poetry! How she missed poetry; that special language so near and dear to her, the words of her most favorite patrons. She reads all that she can get her hands on, good and bad, for the simple pleasure of being able to read once more.

Oftentimes, she simply enjoys the quiet at night. She basks in the knowledge that she can do what she wants, when she wants, with nobody lording over her or imposing their will. Yes, she is still technically bound to a human, but that is a non-issue. Calliope knows with absolute certainty that you have no idea of who she is or what Richard Madoc had done when he declared that she was your problem now.

She likes living with you, though it has been an adjustment being what you call a ‘roommate’ instead of a captive. Whereas the two men (if such brutes can be referred to as men) had been the worst of humanity, she finds humanity endearing when she sees it through your lens. How can she not develop a fondness for you, with how earnestly you try to include her in your life and make her feel like she belongs?

There is also some level of comfort to be gained from the blissful ignorance you live in, the way that you believe your world to be black-and-white with no potential of the things you were taught to be nothing more than myths and stories. To you, such tales don’t exist—Calliope, the Muse, doesn’t exist—and Calliope, the woman, feels that she is able to let her guard down for the first time in a long, long time.

At times, she can feel your desperation for some sort of inspiration, lost as you attempt to complete your studies. It is comforting to know that you have no idea the being that you now share a home with. It is even more comforting to know that she has the choice of whether to grant you some inspiration or not.

Tonight, Calliope decides for herself once more, and thinks that she would rather like to sit outside on the patio and enjoy the late night. With her mind made up, she sneaks out of her bedroom with a blanket in one hand and a book in the other.

“Oh!” Calliope gasps in surprise, startled upon seeing a figure sitting on the couch.

Moonlight shines through the curtains that were most definitely closed a few short hours ago and illuminates your face staring out at the dark. She relaxes, but her fear immediately shifts to concern upon seeing what look to be tear tracks drying on your face.

“Hey. I’m sorry.” Just as she suspected, your voice is thick with tears. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Do not apologize,” she lightly chastises you. “Are you alright?”

You nod and use your sleeve to wipe under your eyes. “Yeah.”

It’s obvious that you’re planning on leaving it at that, which simply won’t do. Calliope levels you with a stare (a ‘mom stare,’ you teasingly referred to it as the first time she used it, without knowing how true your words were. One day, she thinks, she’ll tell you about Orpheus. Once the pain of losing him stops hurting so much) that you try your hardest to act unaffected by. You sigh after a moment, knowing that the fight is lost.

“I had a nightmare,” you admit. “And like, I’m not a little kid anymore. So why did this nightmare scare me so badly that I literally woke up and jumped out of bed in fear?”

Well, that explains why she heard a noise of surprise from your room, followed by a loud thump. She assumed that you hadn’t yet gone to bed, that you were up late finishing a project or just plain procrastinating your sleep. Why your late night required what sounded like the moving of furniture was beyond her. But no, instead, you’ve found yourself at the whims of a nightmare.

Nightmares are not something that Calliope has a lot of experience with. She’s met nightmares, of course. With how much time she spent in the Dreaming, it was a foregone conclusion that she met a nightmare or two. And when they weren’t performing their duties, a lot of them were really quite nice!

(The only nightmare she truly could not stand was her former husband’s most beloved creation—The Corinthian. He…creeped her out, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t just the ocular mouths, though those were also chill-inducing. Rather, it was his entire demeanor. Like he was simply playing nice, biding his time before he could go in for the kill. She was glad to have never seen him again after the end of her marriage.)

But has Calliope ever actually dealt with a nightmare? The lives of immortals are long (obviously), and while she may have once had nightmares when she was very young, it was so long ago now that she can’t remember any particulars. Even when her own son was young, nightmares were not truly a concern. Though she and Morpheus had mutually agreed that he needed to sleep like a normal child at least sometimes in order to aid in his development, the very first time his little brow creased and frightened whimpers began to well in his throat, that decision was quickly forgotten in favor of comforting the boy and assuring him that nightmares would harm him no longer.

So, while it’s true that she does not have much experience with nightmares, what little experience she has had helps her to know just how frightening they can be—and how frightened it’s made you.

“Would talking about it make you feel better?” Calliope asks.

You shake your head resolutely, determined to keep your fears to your chest. “I don’t remember it anymore.”

For many mortals, dreams and nightmares do not follow them out of the Dreaming. They may remember snippets of it, or certain emotions, but often, they fade away in the few hazy moments after waking. It’s pretty obvious that this isn’t the case for you, however. You continue to hold yourself tense, as though whatever had troubled you while you slept would reappear at any moment. Calliope has also seen you deep in thought a couple of times now, and the way you were looking outside when she first stepped out of her room was the same way she had seen you look when trying to complete schoolwork or focus on making something complicated.

Up until now, you’ve tried so hard to always be positive and to make your home and yourself as comforting as possible so that Calliope may have the best possible environment to heal. She appreciates it—this new life she’s found herself in has truly been conducive to recovery—but now, she struggles to watch you try to keep up this facade so as not to lay your upsets upon her. She wishes that you would, though; that you would feel like you can confide in her the same way that you have made her feel towards you. After all that you’ve done for her, you deserve to feel like you have gained a friendship.

Calliope will let you keep your secrets, then, even though this means that particular avenue of help is closed—she will not force you to do anything that you do not want to do. She moves on to Plan B, into the kitchen where she fumbles around until finding the kettle. Filling it with water, she places it on a burner and turns the stove on. Though she’s still not very confident around newer inventions like kitchen appliances, she’s proud of the fact that she’s slowly learning.

At the sounds, you peek up from the couch. “What are you doing?”

“What you’ve done for me when I find myself particularly upset,” she says, fetching two mugs from the cupboard.

“You’re making me tea?” Your voice sounds strangled, as though you can’t imagine why she would be providing you this small comfort.

You first started making tea for Calliope on the night that she technically became ‘yours.’ After locking herself in the bathroom and scrubbing her skin raw under the stream of hot water until she was sure that every inch of her body was clean from the DNA of another, she spent an interminable amount of time just enjoying the knowledge that she was now safe. While it was true that you were still practically a stranger, she had lived for long enough now and had honed her gifts well enough to be able to get a good read of a person’s intentions.

From the moment that she met you, you held none of the same ill will as the others. No, your immediate concern had been making sure that she was warm. When was the last time somebody cared for how she felt? She watched intently as you grabbed a coat from your vehicle, sure that, at any moment, your intentions toward her would change. Though she didn’t believe that she had the power (both strength and will) to fight you off, she would not be caught off-guard if it came to that.

But it never did. You simply wanted to make sure that she was out of harm’s way. You concluded on your own that whatever had happened to her in that house, at the hands of the man you called your professor, was horrific. To you, Calliope was a woman, battered and scared, with nothing to her name and nowhere to go. It was the obvious option to offer her food and shelter, to ensure her safety, simply because it was the right thing to do.

Still, even after your show of immense kindness, she did not want to face you, for some part of her was waiting for the inevitable. When you would demand the use of her gifts, wanting inspiration and fame and power and riches. She was dreading the potential that you were simply another human wanting to take take take. So she waited until the water ran cold and she was shivering. Even then, it took until she physically could stand the water no longer for her to finally make slow moves to get ready to leave the bathroom. Toweling herself off and putting on the borrowed clothes (clothes that actually covered her skin, so much more than the satin slips that she had been granted by her former captors) could only take so long, so with a heavy sigh, she steeled herself and opened the door.

There was no sign of you, however, and a quick glance at the light from under the closed door of one bedroom indicated that you were inside. The only sign of life that proved that you were once in this space was a plate and a mug sitting on the counter. When Calliope cautiously got closer, she saw a note next to them.

“Made you some dinner and tea. I’ve always been told that tea (or your preferred hot beverage of choice) can do wonders for making you feel better, and I’ve found that to be true a few times now. Sweet dreams!”

Your name was signed at the end, along with what looked like a drawing of a smile.

Aware of the very real possibility that this could be a trap—Fry, after all, had first tried to woo her before taking what he believed to be his by force—she hastily grabbed the ceramicware and made off to the room that you had called hers. She had no real need for food, of course, nor for bathing. But they were those same creature comforts that not even the gods were above, and beyond sporadic, cold baths, they were creature comforts she had been denied for over sixty years. Calliope would take any that she could get, especially when they were (seemingly) freely given. Unfortunately, she was not in a position to spurn such gifts right now.

These gifts kept coming, without an expectation of anything in return from her. She was free to take whatever she wanted, go anywhere she liked, do anything she wished. And you were always there to cheer her on and encourage her, with a smile on your face and (when she wanted it) tea in hand.

“‘Make’ should perhaps be used loosely.” She smiles sheepishly, back in the present as the kettle begins to warm. “Depending on how much of your help I shall need after the water boils.”

You wrap a blanket around yourself and make your way to Calliope. “Then we’ll make it together.”

After the tea has been successfully prepared and you’re both settled back on the couch with a large blanket shared between you, Calliope asks, “Do you have nightmares often?”

“Not like when I was little. I was one of those kids that had night terrors, y’know?” She doesn’t know, because she has never heard of them more beyond being mentioned in passing when she was still wife to Dream of the Endless, but she nods regardless. “Apparently, I would just scream and shake until I ran out of breath and woke myself up.”

“I am so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. Like most kids with night terrors, I never remembered them.” You take another sip from your mug. “This is good tea, by the way.”

“You are the one that determined when the tea was done steeping.”

“Yeah, but you boiled the water, which is an integral part of tea-making.” You smile at her, the first smile she’s seen from you tonight, and it makes her feel a little better, like she’s doing something right. “So well done.”

You fall quiet, having said what you wanted to say regarding your nightmare and choosing instead to enjoy your tea. Though you’re content with companionable silence, Calliope is not. She feels like she should be doing more to help you, to comfort you. Caring for another, helping someone to feel better, does not come easily to her like it once did. She has been burned for too long now, that caring nature snuffed out early on in her imprisonment. But slowly, like the first blades of grass pushing back through the soil of a blackened landscape after a wildfire, new life has started to grow in the middle of this scorched area of her heart. She wants to help you, to care for you.

She wants to make you feel better.

“My younger sister, Thalia, is far better at this than I,” Calliope admits with a sigh.

“Better at what?”

“At cheering people up.”

Indeed, Thalia did not preside over comedy for no reason. Many times over the years that she’s been unwillingly away from her family, Calliope found herself wishing that Thalia would be right next to her. She loves all of her sisters equally, but Thalia would have effortlessly known what to say or told an anecdote that would have made her imprisonment easier. Perhaps it would have even given her the extra strength needed to truly fight and find a way out.

You bump Calliope’s shoulder with your own. “You’ve done a really good job of that yourself, Cal.”

She feels her chest warm, both at the compliment and the term of endearment. Somewhere along the way, you (and your friends, who are just as kind and welcoming to her as you have been) adopted a nickname for her. This is new for her—prior to her imprisonment, she was Calliope, eldest of the Muses Nine, Beautiful-Voiced, Chief of All Muses. She has always been Calliope. But now, sometimes she is Callie, or Cal. Those who call her this do not know that they are in the presence of a goddess, that she should be commanding the respect that she deserves from mortals who believe her one of them.

Instead, she finds that she loves having a nickname.

“You have…eight sisters, right?” you ask.

“Yes. Thalia is the second youngest.” Calliope has only spoken about her sisters in the most vague of ways, hesitant to reveal too much. Telling you the names of a sister or two certainly won’t hurt.

“It must be so much fun when you’re all together.”

Calliope smiles wistfully, feeling that familiar pang of homesickness. “It is. There are lots of laughs shared, and we all leave with enough stories to last until we see one another again.”

It hits her almost as soon as the words leave her mouth: There is something that she can do to help. She can do what she does best, that which is her chief function. She can tell you a story. Already the words come to her, the tale writing itself within her, nestled right at the hollow of her throat, and just waiting for her to speak it aloud. Her inspiration, her gift, is used on herself for the first time in a long time, and as her mind goes to work, she remembers why it is that she is so coveted. It feels intoxicating to think up a story once more, to be inspired to create. It’s an old feeling, one that was once so familiar to her, that it feels quite like a homecoming for her to be experiencing it once more.

“Have I ever told you of the wager that Thalia and our sister Mel once had?” she asks, baiting you.

You look at her curiously and take said bait. “No.”

Calliope smiles, feeling her power hum within her as, for the first time in a long, long time, she prepares an epic of her own. “Well, it started one summer…”

•••

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boo8008 · 7 months

Text

Three Months - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader Chapter 02: Mince

Prologue | Chapter 01: Quadriller | Chapter 02: Mince

Series Summery: Its been one year since The Bear's soft open, and with everything running smoothly, Carmen's lost in his thoughts, until the final table of the night is seated.

Chapter Summery: After the minor introduction of you and Carmy, your about to prepare the first dinner post Covid and before Stevie and Michelle leave, one Carmen is also coming to. Only cooking dinner is not going as smoothly as you'd hoped.

Mince (v.) - to finely divide food into uniform pieces smaller than diced or chopped foods, prepared using a chef's knife or food processor

Word Count: ~3,865

My Notes bb: Hey….. How yall doin? Sorry this took so long to get out, work and life suddenly got busy and I didn't have time to write. I hurt my back though so it kinda forced me to write and crank this out. Hopefully its not as bad I as I still feel like it is but yea. Again sorry this took so long to get out. Hope you enjoy! (ps my therapist thinks this is a decent outlet though lol thanks Sandra)

2021 (December)

Carmen hardly ever came to dinner after those first few weeks, and Michelle said something about him working at Eleven Madison Park. While you were happy he head ended up at the high end restaurant, you knew he was working under one hell of an asshole. He seemed to be doing fine enough though. Granted, you would only catch small glimpses of him on nights when you stayed later than intended and he walked only into his room to sleep, with just a small mumbled ‘hi’ thrown your way. Eventually he managed to move out on his own and only came to dinner about once every two months when Michelle would insist on it.

Once covid hit though, you'd basically lost contact with him. Michelle even rarely managed to drag him into group facetime calls with you. They were mainly her or Stevie recounting their last two weeks of quarantine in a dramatic fashion and you and Carmen would be listening half heartedly. If Carmen was there, he seemed to just sit out on a fire escape in his building and smoke, thinking about other things. Everytime you picked up though, missing being around the two people you actually liked. You would use it as a little reprieve from writing yet another ‘easy recipes for quarantine’ article, or to have company while you organized and re-organised random spots throughout your apartment.

Mostly though you would use it to get away from the depressive thoughts of ‘what am I doing with my life?’ or ‘if something happened to me, only Michelle and Stevie would really know.’ you didn't realize how much you missed being around people until you couldn't anymore, just stuck with yourself and your cat in your apartment. You missed the mindless chatter from coworkers at your office and in person interviews with cranky chefs because they gave you more to think about than yourself. All you began to think about was how bad the piece you were working on was, even if your editor said it was great. You felt tired and tired of being tired. All you wanted was to have a nice dinner with Stevie and Michelle, and fuck even hearing from Carmen would be amazing even if it was another awkward conversation with someone you just barely knew.

In short covid sucked ass and made your already anxious brain even worse. Not to mentioned your sense of time became fucked and all of your normally scheduled daily things also hard to keep track of. While quarantine had somewhat ended, you all found yourselves too busy trying to get back into the groove of ‘normalcy’ and offices to have dinner again, canceling for meetings or being too tired. Leading to today, when after months of planning and rescheduling you had completely forgotten that dinner was not only being held at you place, but you were also cooking because Michelle and Stevie had nothing in their kitchen because they were leaving two weeks early to isolate before Christmas in Chicago, and to top it all off, Carmen was (for once) coming to dinner. You remembered only when Stevie sent you a text asking what time worked best to come over, and not wanting to cancel for the tenth time, you told them 7:00. So you left work early to run for the subway, then run to the grocers to get real food, and then ran home to start cooking.

Only cooking was not going as planned.

It was 6:30 and dinner was nowhere near done. It was like you had forgotten everything you knew about actually cooking, and you’re a food journalist for Christ's sake! This should have been something you could do fairly easy! You write about things like this all the time! Yet here you are, chicken suddenly burning in the oven from when you stepped away to check your recipe to make sure everything was going okay and you that were good to start the pasta. You quickly removed the now pucks from the oven and turned it off. You resolved to just sitting on the floor across from your oven and crying, thinking about where it all went wrong-not the dinner but everything. Quiet sobs racked your body as you sad down on your kitchen floor, forgetting about your phone and the fact your last text said “doors unlocked when you get here”.

Carmen didn’t want to go to dinner but knew he wouldn't hear the end of it from Michelle if he didn’t show up. And to be frank he wanted her to stop calling him a hermit too. So he grabbed his jacket after lunch service and headed home to shower and change, doing his best to not think of his shitty boss saying he was worthless for taking one evening off. He hadn't done that even during covid, constantly asking what the plan was or if the kitchen was open. He decided to head out early to your place sending a quick text and leaving. As he approached your door he could definitely smell burning, very unlike the pre-covid dinners you made. While not Michelin level, what you made were perfect home cooked and leftover meals to him. A nice change from his go to PB&Js with Doritos and a Coke. He checked his phone again making sure the apartment number was right and reread your last text again. He still knocked on the door before he opened it, out of habit.

“Yo its me,” Carmen called out, peeling off his jacket as he looked around the entryway of your small apartment. You jumped at the knock and stood up as the door opened, and as Carmen called out, you turned to face the sink in your kitchen.

“In here!” your voice was wobbly but you preyed he wouldn't notice. Carmen followed the sound and walked into the kitchen, seeing the blackened chicken on the stove and the mess of the rest of the kitchen.

“Jesus, the fuck did you try to cook?” he said it without thinking, and immediately you broke again. Crumbling in on yourself and to tired to try and hide it. Tears raining down your face and carmen short circuited, watching as you again sunk to the floor in a puddle.

“Shit fuck I-I’m sorry. Fuck! Wh-what can I do? What do you want me to do? Fuck sorry I-I’m bad at this.” he panics as he looks down at you crying. “Wh-want me to go? I-I can go- I should go. Shit, Sorry again.”

“S-s-stay?”

“What?” Carmen's pretty sure he heard wrong, after all he just caused you to meltdown from his social awkwardness.

“S-stay?” you say more clearly. You don't know why you ask it, let alone how it crawls out of your crying, shaking self. Its been so long sense you've been near someone else even a little close to you so maybe that's it. He stops for a minute looking down at you as you look up at him still crying. “Please?”

“... O-okay.”

He isn't sure why he stays, or why he sits down next to you while you cry, but he does. The apartment is quiet outside of you sniffles and the occasional sob but carmen stays put. Neither of you realize how much you've started leaning towards each other until your head is lightly lying on his shoulder. You’ve mostly stopped crying now but your face is still wet and your eyes are puffy.

He isn't sure what to say, with his mom asking if you were okay was off limits. It made everything worse. It lead to screaming and yelling and throwing things. He thinks about what someone normal, someone like Stevie, or Pete, or Natalie, what they would ask someone they hardly know if they saw them having a panic attack and decides to just do it, praying you’d be somewhat normal compared to his mother.

“You-you okay?” you'd almost forgot he was there, even if you were leaning on him, and sat up straighter, wiping your face.

“Yea, I’m-I’m sorry dinners ruined and for getting like that,” you say. Tears of embarrassment springing up at knowing that this (basically) stranger saw you cry.

“No no your fine-your cool,” he can feel panic rising again at making you cry again. “No no no offense but I-I was kinda in the mood for pizza anyways.” He's only partly lying, he wanted a home cooked meal but the pizza place he passed on his way here smelled greasy and amazing on his empty stomach.

“Are you sure? I still have the kitchen to clean and I just don't want you all to think that I don't care o-or anything that i-its our last dinner before you guys go back to Chicago for Christmas and I just-”

“Yea, your fine , its fine if we have pizza, I’ll text Michelle to grab it on their way over, they wont mind.”

“Okay…” you mumble, caving in on the choice of pizza and leaning your head back on the cabinet behind you. Carmens already pulling his phone out of his pocket when he spots the new texts from Stevie and Michelle on his lock screen.

Stevie: ‘Sorry gang, we dont think we can make it tonight, we still have a lot to pack 😕’

Michelle: ‘Yea I’m sorry i know its so close to dinner but maybe you two can get along without us????’

Michelle: ‘Sorry again lovelies xoxo 😘’

Michelle: ‘Dont be a dick carm 💛😘’

“Well fuck,” Carmen mumbled. He was now on his own to make conversation. “Looks like its just us for dinner. ‘Said they still have packing to do.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say. Of course the universe would have the only two people you could actually converse with busy on the one night you were meant to see them.

“Yea…” Carmen wasn't sure how to proceed. Does he leave cause the only bridge between you both isn't showing? Does he stay because he already committed to dinner? God he feels so awkward.

“Well we could still get pizza?” you ask. “I mean you came all this way so it kinda feels like a waste.”

“You sure?”

“Yea, I mean I still gotta clean the kitchen but theres a place around the corner thats amazing after crying,” you say with a bit of a laugh to help bring up the awkward mood.

“Let me help you and we can go?” he suggests, already rising to his feet and offering you a hand.

“Are you sure? I mean the chicken I think is welded on there at this point,” you say. As your taking his hand and he pulls you to stand from your floor, you see his forearms flex and your mind short circuits as you look probably a second longer than you need to at the muscles and veins there. Luckily he doesn't notice because he's already turning and grabbing the now cool baking sheet with the chicken on it.

“Yea it’ll go faster, I think I can get this off too,” Carmen quickly took charge of washing the bowls, cutting boards, and other kitchen utensils you had pulled out in your frenzy to cook dinner on time.

In nearly no time at all the kitchen was clean and the two of you had left for the pizza parlor a block away. While yes the cleaning was a little awkward, the noise of the city on the walk made making any conversation difficult, meaning neither of you had to talk or struggle to make conversation.

“Pepperoni good?” Carmen asked as the two of you stood awkwardly next to each other, both of your jackets zipped all the way up thanks to the near unbearable cold outside.

“Y-yea, they make bomb garlic knots too if you want some,” you responded, skimming over the menu even though you already knew what the plan was.

“C-cool, um,” Carmen looked around the small shop, there was just the counter and a cooler for drinks, no seating. The place reminded him of the beef, dingy, and not that healthy, but god damn was this about to be the best food he could ever get. “Did you want to go back to your place? Cause… cause there's no tables and stuff…” Carmen cringed at the awkward way the words came out.

“Yea if that's good with you?” you said taking a step forward, the two of you would look at each other before looking away, as if the tiled flooring was so interesting. You decided to take a page out of Stevie’s book, he was better with people than you were so you prayed the attempted joke would land. “I mean we could eat out in the cold if your more comfortable?” A smile pressed its way onto Carmen’s face and you considered that a victory.

“Yea no, I love eating outside when its about to snow,” he snickered. “Reminds me of home.” You both shifted closer as the people in front of you pushed pass you both to leave with their pizzas. As you both stepped up to the counter Carmen was faster than you in not only placing the order, a large peperoni with a side of garlic knots, but also whipping out his wallet and paying, you on the other hand had barely stumbled out a hello and barely started shifting your bag to get out your own wallet by the time he was done.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you mumbled as you both stepped off to the side to wait.

“Yea well, its cool I got the money,” Carmen added. You only partly doubted it, he worked at the highest rated restaurant in the world but also lived in New York so it kinda balanced out. You both distracted yourselves for a few minuets looking at your phones, you taking to a word search game and Carmen playing the fun game of ‘who is this and why do I have their number?’ with his contacts. It felt a little more relaxing compared to earlier, more like the same air you both got when Stevie and Michelle would leave the room at your normal dinners, not pressured to talk but liking the fact another person was next to you.

“Order 447!” you and carmen both jumped as the number was yelled through the small shop. Carmen stepped forward and took the box and bag from the worker, turning to you, where you grabbed the bag and began to head out before he got up the words to protest that he's got it.

Luckily the only awkward part of the walk back to your apartment was the elevator ride up. As you both stepped into your apartment you were both greeted by the loud yelling of your cat as she rounded the corner to yell at you for leaving for a whole 30 minuets.

“Yea yea your fine baby,” you told her as you took the pizza from Carmen. “You good with just sitting on the couch? I don't want to do anymore kitchen cleaning.”

“Heard,” Carmen carmen said as he took off his jacket. He was looking down at the feline weaving between his legs and bent down to let her sniff him so he could pet her, instead she smelt him and abruptly ran back deeper in the apartment and he smiled a little at the cat, following it with his eyes to you coming out of the kitchen with two cans of coke, paper plates, and paper towels. Something in him stirred at the mundane and domestic sight but he waved it off as more anxiety.

“Wait-shit-your not allergic to cats are you?” you asked panicked.

“N-no,” Carmen's voice broke a little as he said it and he cleared his throat. “No… My, um, my mom never let us have one when I was a kid, something about the furniture. I always wanted one though.” Why’d his voice break like that? Why’d he bring up his mom? Fuck now he's gonna have to explain everything.

“Cool-cool,” you were turning to head deeper into the apartment again and Carmen followed, getting a better look at the place now that he wasn't rushing to the kitchen. “That's Mince, cause when I got her she was tiny and I wasn't thinking ahead.” He took in the living room, a nice, small sectional couch with a blanket over the back was against one wall, and a tv with bookcases full of nick-nacks and heavy looking books with holiday lights around it. The center of the room had a buttery carpet and the coffee table with the pizza and garlic knots on it.

“Make yourself at home,” you added. You’d never felt more aware of your actions than now, as Carmen looked at more of your space with posters and pictures around it and you were just trying to tell yourself to act normal. He took in the dining table with four perfectly mismatched chairs that was tucked into a corner on the other side of the wall from the kitchen. Mince catches his attention from the couch, batting at his hand from her spot on the arm rest. He again goes to pet her only for her to skip off and run to the opposite end where you are. Carmen finally takes a seat on the couch, the two of you as far as you could be. You both dig into the pizza and Carmen can’t help but think about how good it is.

“Fuck,” he groaned. It definitely compensates for the shitty morning he had and the rollercoaster of emotions he felt around you.

“Right?” you said through a smile. You were turning on the tv and poking around for something to watch.

“‘S so fucking good,” he said through another bite. “Chicago is still better though.” he mumbled.

“Fuck off,” you finally settled on Bobs Burgers that you left off on. You both ate in a mostly comfortable silence, focusing on the show and avoiding looking at each other. Once you felt you were full you settled back into the couch, and glanced at carmen sitting in your space, he had made himself more comfortable, and he looked nice there, leaned up against the arm of the couch with one arm draped over the back of the couch fiddling with a part of the blanket and his legs spread wide. You shifted your focus back to the television not wanting to make it more weird.

“So… did you finish packing already?” you settled on conversation to distract you from the thought of crawling into his lap. “For Chicago I mean.”

“Oh um,” Carmen was a little startled by the sudden conversation, but fuck it you already cried in front of him today, it was his turn to share. “N-no I’m just staying here, rather not watch my mom drive the car through a wall and my brother fight my uncle again.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry,” Steve had told you some of what happened that Christmas, mainly summarized as a big blowout of a fight between Michelle’s cousin Mikey and her kinda-uncle Lee, and her aunt Donna driving her car through the living room. God why'd you bring this up? He probably didn't want to talk about it. “Did you have any plans then?” Please let this be a decent change of topic you think.

“Just work, go home, smoke and eat, sleep, just like the last two years,” he says with a sigh. “Wh-What about you?”

“No, I was just gonna stay in and watch some movies.” Carmen answers with an affirming ‘hm’, not wanting to overstep and ask more questions. Even with the both of you wanting to talk more, neither of you know how to go from here. You turn you attention back to the television as Carmen turns his head a little to quietly observe you.

Curled up in the corner of the couch in a cozy, old, and ratty sweatshirt with some leggings and fuzzy holiday grippy socks, hair down, and face still a little puffy from the winter air and your tears, but still beautiful in the darkening light of your apartment, mundanely so. Not a supermodel ripped from the cover of vogue, or an unobtainable influencer with hair and makeup perfectly placed for pictures. You look like you belong there. You look real. Cozy and warm on your couch with the lights from the streets down below hitting you just so. Home he thinks, before quickly turning his attention back to the tv. Its not like he’d ever have a shot with you anyways, he’s always too busy, or too angry, or too much of an asshole in general. Where’d all of those thoughts even come from? He hardly ever felt at home with anyone, especially outside of the kitchen.

As the show plays on the two of you get lost in it and enjoying the act of being alone together, occasionally steeling glances at each other. You find yourself kind of liking being with him, not necessarily talking or interacting but the feeling of another person in the same room as you feels nice. Carmen won't say it but he's enjoying himself too. The show and coziness of your apartment make him feel relaxed more than his barren dingy apartment ever could, and the abundance of stuff artfully placed helps give him something to look at and think on rather than get lost in his anxiety and self doubt. Why does she have a Halloween decoration out its December…right? He thinks. Your both trying to think on how to ask for what you want but you beat him too it. Probably because you grew up with Steve and his weird ball of encouragement always on your side.

“Did you want to hang out? On Christmas I mean,” you finally get the courage to ask. Phew, not that bad.

“I mean I-I don't want to intrude,” Carmen starts. “Plus I have work the next day.”

“You could sleepover? If-if you want,” you prepose. “We can still smoke, eat, and sleep if you want. All the traditions you enjoy, a-and I don’t think I’m far from the line you need?”

You definitely aren't. In fact your apartment is somehow on a faster route to work than his own. The only reason you know is because of the Bake It Nice pop up bakery Eleven Madison Park does once a month that you always try to make time for. Carmen thinks on it for a second, and your sure he's looking for a way to let you down nicely.

“You sure your okay with me leaving at 5:00 in the morning?” he asks.

“Absolutely,” you say with a smile, and something in Carmen stirs. “Plus I can pass the fuck out again when you leave anyways.” he smiles at that, still unsure what feeling he's having right now, but he likes it.

“Okay,” he says and you both return you attention back to the show smiling like children. Your legs a little more outstretched towards carmen and his body begging to sink further into your couch. Relaxing to the feeling of you.

#carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fic #the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader #jeremy allen white

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oatmilk-vampire · 5 months

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Off My Mind || Eddie Munson x Reader

Eddie Munson x gn!ex!Reader

(Read part 2 here)

Summary: Eddie and his ex agree to meet up to talk over their relationship, but instead of getting back together as they originally intended, things get worse. Mostly Eddie POV.

Inspired by one of my favorite songs Off My Mind by Joe P. Give it a listen!

Word count: 1.2k of angst. Just angst.

TW: suicidal thoughts/ideation. Please DO NOT READ if this could be triggering for you.

A/n at end.

~~~

You and Eddie “went on a break” six months ago.

It was just supposed to be a few days, but soon one weekend turned into a week, and that week into a month, and now here you both are. You had finally reached out, asked him to meet you at the Hideaway to discuss your relationship.

This was meant to happen months ago, but it hadn’t and Eddie knew why. He knew you were going to end things for good instead of keeping him in relationship limbo. Not dating, not yet broken up. But he knew better. He knew it was over the day you walked out. You were just coming to clear your conscience, to smash his already broken heart.

You were just as gorgeous as the day you left. He used to call you his Angel, but now he knew better. Still, you were no devil; but he now had confirmation as to what you really were: an angel of death.

You had been there long before him if the empty glass on the table was any indication.

Instinctively he almost ran to you, wrapping you up in his arms, but then he remembered the nature of this visit and kept his hands to himself sitting across from you when in the past he had only ever sat on the same side.

“Eddie,” your voice wobbles but is still sweet as honey. “Thank you for meeting me. How are you?”

How is he? How is he, really? Well let’s start. He never went back to Hawkins after he recovered and you left. What was the point? If his lack of a high school diploma was really holding him back that much he would just get a GED, but he hadn’t done that yet and he knows he never will.

You fiddle with your damp napkin, ripping the corner off before setting it down.

“I’m going to go get another drink. You want anything?”

You didn’t even wait for his response to your first question, why would he think you’d bother waiting to hear his response to your second one?

But to his surprise you did. You stood there, staring at him, small smile on your lips only to be kind.

“Vodka soda.”

“Okay, be right back.”

While you go get another drink he thinks of ways to tell you he’s fine.

He would never tell you, but he pregamed before coming here. That’s why he’s so late. He drank more than he should have considering he drove himself. What’s one more vodka soda? Maybe then you’ll never even know that he’s lying.

He’s thinking about how you never said goodbye. You hadn’t, neither of you did. Goodbye meant you weren’t seeing each other again.

“Sorry about the wait.”

“‘T’s fine.” You don’t miss the way he slurs before he’s even taken a sip of the drink you’ve just bought him.

“How are you, Eddie? I’ve missed talking to you.”

“Got myself another lover.” He blurts out without considering how it’ll hurt you, or maybe he does. It's a lie anyway. He hadn't even wanted to touch his own body after you left, why would he let some random person?

“Oh. You do? That’s nice, I’m happy for you.” You on the other hand are not lying. You are happy for him. But that doesn’t stop your heart only being held together by a small thing called hope just irreplaceably shattered.

“God, I love her, I’ll never stop.”

“I’m happy for you.” You repeat, a tight smile on your face as you blink back the tears.

“Take her out and drive around and show her all of our favorite spots.”

“Eddie,” you begin but he cuts you off.

“I used to sit and cry. I felt like I could die.” His voice is so cold it sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t want your drink anymore, even if it was just a coke.

His eyes find yours over the rim of his glass just before he gulps it down.

“But now you’re off my mind.”

You left him pretty soon after that and despite his slowed movements and long-gone inhibitions he realized he fucked up. He just let you walk away from him for the second time.

You were supposed to be better by the summer, at least. You began having your problems in spring. The two of you chalked it up to the horrible strain fighting Vecna put on you, but you had every intention to have your relationship repaired by summertime. But summertime came and you were long gone.

Eddie doesn’t even blame you anymore, not that he ever really did before. He knows you deserve better. After all, you’re an angel and angels need to spread their wings.

Despite the hole he found himself growing darker the longer you two were apart, tonight’s the first time he’s actually considered it. It seems like a cliche, an outdated option, and yet he has every intention of drawing himself a bath when he gets home and making toast in the tub while still wearing all of his clothes. It’ll be the last outfit you ever see him in. Unless you come to his funeral, but he’s pretty sure Uncle Wayne will put him in some stupid suit, or have a closed casket depending on how fried out his hair looks. He doubts you’ll even come.

But the thought of tears pricking your eyes as you sob over his coffin makes him second think his plan. Despite his swirling mix of emotions he has never wanted to hurt you, he still doesn’t.

He drives home, knowing Uncle Wayne isn’t home tonight. Eddie had told him he planned on meeting with you so he cleared out, fully anticipating you’d be joining Eddie back home. Eddie didn’t have the heart to tell his uncle he hadn’t worked out that way, that he really lost you for good now and it was all his fault. Uncle Wayne would learn soon enough when he found his remains the next day, though.

He doesn’t even remember making it into the Munson trailer, let alone remembering if he had locked it back up after he’d entered. He wasn’t worried about it, though. What would anyone steal? Everything of any value was already gone.

He makes his bath, trying to decide if he deserves to burn in as much scorching water as the shitty plumbing allows or if he should freeze. In the end he decided on the cold side of the faucet, it would take less time.

The small tub is just about filled by the time he returns with their toaster. He only feels guilty when he realizes Uncle Wayne won’t be able to make toast in the morning anymore.

He plugs it in, thankful their bathroom is so small that the outlet really is placed haphazardly close to the tub. There wouldn’t be any issue with him reaching over and knocking it in.

He settles into the freezing tub, his wet clothes clinging to his body make him feel so much colder and weighed down. He watches as water sloshes over the side thanks to his bodyweight.

Usually he’d consider smoking before to take the edge off but he was already feeling much more relaxed.

Because now you’re off his mind.

~~~

Author note: I had a different, slightly less angsty more whump/happier ending in mind and luckily it'll still work if you guys want this to become a two-shot? (:

This isn't much but it was on my mind (ha) and I needed to get it out in order to focus on my other WIPs. I wrote this in one sitting.

I have never written a Y/N or Reader fic before, but currently have 4 more gender-neutral ones in the works with much happier endings.

Thank you for reading <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst

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karamazovposting · 2 months

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On Ivan and bipolar disorder (part two)

Before continuing from where I left off in part one I have to say something: I go over some heavier stuff in here. Nothing that isn't already present in the book and that I haven't seen mentioned in other people's metas, but I still want to give you a heads up: the main focus of part two is suicide/suicidal ideation and childhood trauma. I mean, this is a The Brothers Karamazov meta about a bipolar coded character so I think you all already knew these things were going to be in here, but I think that if you have bipolar disorder or are close to someone who has it some things could be upsetting or remind you of some unpleasant (to put it mildly) experiences. Writing certain things hits me at least (though not in a triggering way), but I think it's important to touch certain topics as they are core topics when it comes to bipolar disorder and it's impossible to talk about it without going over the ugly stuff. I've also been on meds and in therapy for years and I'm doing fairly well in life now so that's all in the past. Anyway don't worry, this is the only part of this essay that includes these topics.

This said, here's what I'll go over in this post: mostly what Ivan says in The brothers get acquainted, Rebellion, and The Grand Inquisitor, focusing more on the former two than the latter, as I personally find a particular passage of The brothers get acquainted to be one of the most beautiful and bipolar things I've ever read and we need to talk about Rebellion to further understand Ivan's inner world. The Grand Inquisitor isn't really that useful in this case but there's one thing that caught my attention.

As I already said in part one, The brothers get acquainted is the chapter that made me decide that Ivan is bipolar coded. I've even written a specific part of it down and read it to my therapist because I am, in fact, clinically insane. At this point I don't think I can hide how biased I am anymore, not that I ever really tried anyway, so I'll start by saying that this is my favorite part of the whole book. It may seem strange because it seems like such a small and simple chapter: it's not The Grand Inquisitor, it doesn't have the dreamlike atmosphere of Cana of Galilee or the chaotic passion of Delirium; it's not the courtroom scene or the epilogue. No one's getting murdered or hallucinating the devil or getting falsely accused, just Ivan talking about himself and letting us see his humanity like we had never before. We get to know him in the same way and at the same time his own brother does.

Why is this, in my opinion, the most crucial passage? What does it tell us? This is the first window on Ivan's inner world we get and the first thing it tells us, through Alyosha, is that there's a significant gap between how other people see Ivan and how he actually is. I mean, we already had a glimpse of that in the previous chapters through Miusov, Dmitri and even Fyodor, but Ivan was never there. The difference here is not only that Ivan is present, but also that Alyosha managed to see right through him in a way the others didn't, and it's telling that Alyosha asks Ivan if he'll get angry and feel insulted after hearing what he picked up on, considering that it's just that Ivan is after all a regular twenty-three year old. Alyosha even tells him he's nice! The thing is that Alyosha thinks that to Ivan the offense wouldn't be in what he managed to see in him, but in the fact that he managed to see it in the first place. I think I'll go over this and the other characters' perception of Ivan in part three because it doesn't really fit with this part's themes and also I have a feeling this post will get long even without it (sorry!).

Ivan is not angry at all though, he's amused and he takes this opportunity to open up; after all he did say he wanted Alyosha to get to know him (and viceversa!). I think it's important to note that he ends up pretty much monologuing for three chapters straight, almost as if he's used to bottling up his feelings and keeping his thoughts to himself (I'm pretty sure it's actually stated somewhere that he does, I had some little notes I wrote in my phone mentioning something like that but my notes app crashed before I could save them and I can't for the life of me find it in the book, but I swear it's there).

Here we get to see Ivan's rather unusual attitude towards life: he's not actively suicidal in that moment, but he doesn't exclude the possibility of suicide later in life, and not only this is a very bipolar feeling on its own, but the origin of this feeling and the way he explains his reasons also are. Ivan is very tired, both physically and mentally, it's stated multiple times through the novel, but he doesn't necessarily hate life even though he has mixed feelings towards it; on one hand he says there is no kind of misery, no matter how deep, capable of making him want to stop living (after all, bipolar disorder is all about bouncing back up no matter what), but on the other hand he's repulsed by life and that's why he describes his lust for it as inconvenient and against logic. He wants to live but he hates that he wants to live and he knows he'll eventually get tired of it and just quit, and it's something he feels very strongly, all of it. The thing that really sticks out to me and that struck me is that his passive suicidal ideation is very thought out (unlike Dmitri's which feels more impulsive to me but that's another story for another post), like he's gone through miserable periods of his life several times (I mean, the narrator does also say it) and he came to the conclusion that yes, this is bearable, but only for a limited number of years. He says he asked himself a thousand times if it's worth it and after a thousand times he gave himself the illusion of choice: I will kill myself but I won't succumb to my misery, I'll just be too tired to keep living, it will be my choice. With Ivan (just like with bipolar disorder in general) it's all about control and it's something that hits very close to home to me to the point I had to stop reading to stare at the wall and go he gets it. He really does, this is a very common sentiment and experience among people with bipolar disorder and that's why it's sadly one of the mental disorders with the highest suicide rate (and most historical figures with bipolar disorder I know about actually did die by suicide). The constant up and down is exhausting and that's exactly the feeling Ivan's words gave me, he describes the bipolar experience so well I was genuinely impressed considering The Brothers Karamazov was written and is set in the second half of the 1800s, when psychiatry and psychology were just starting to be born. I think it's also important to mention that he doesn't really give himself much time either: he's only twenty-three and he set his own life to end at thirty. It's only seven years, but seven years can seem like an infinite amount of time when you have to deal with what we have to, especially if we consider my interpretation of Ivan and his childhood. What do I mean by that? I mean that this is about to get interesting (and kind of personal).

Now, in the past almost two-hundred years, no one has still figured out the exact cause of bipolar disorder as the exact mechanism behind it is still unclear (to the point we don't even know why the meds used to treat it work, we just know that for some reason they do) but it mostly comes down to two factors: genetic and environmental. It's usually a mix of the two and it's most likely that once again it varies between individuals, but a very common bipolar experience is the one of a traumatic and overwhelming childhood: many of us had to deal with a mentally ill parent growing up due to the genetic factor and many of us went through so much stress and trauma that the end result could be nothing but bipolar disorder. And this is where Ivan's character stumbles in: I think his protectiveness towards children and his impossibility to accept their suffering stem from his impossibility to accept his own traumatic childhood. Let's be clear, all four brothers had a traumatic childhood, but Ivan seems to be the one who's most impacted by it. Dmitri was abandoned by his mother at the age of three and his father forgot about him (just like he forgot about Ivan and Ivan also seems deeply affected by that considering how he reacts when Fyodor doesn't remember Aleksej's mother was also his own), Pavel never got to know his due to her death in childbirth, and Aleksej's only memories of his mother are fuzzy and dreamlike, which leaves Ivan as the only one who actually has clear memories of his mother: an ill woman who probably couldn't take care of him and his little brother properly because of that and who died young (very traumatic for a child); he probably still remembers her screams. There's a very well written post about how each brother was affected by their respective missing mother figure so I won't go into that because there's no need and it doesn't really fit in here, but I think this is a very important part of Ivan's life that also obviously reflects in his adulthood (again, I'll talk about it in the future), and that we have to take into consideration as an example of what kind of pain a child has to go through to turn out a certain way.

But why am I saying this? I'll be honest with you: mere projection. Ivan's words on the injustice of children's suffering resonated with me so much, especially in relation to his refusal to accept God's existence in a world that allows such things to happen. As you probably figured, I'm an atheist myself and I am for the same reasons he is. There's a quote by Sylvia Plath, who also had bipolar disorder: I talk to God but the sky is empty. I won't elaborate because I don't feel like this is the place, but I relate to it a lot and I think it's applicable to Ivan as well. Mind you that I'm not here to talk about religion, I mean no disrespect and I wouldn't have mentioned my atheism if it hadn't been relevant, so please don't say anything unnecessary about that.

My projection went even further when I realised that Ivan is young (we're the same age actually!), what business does he have to be talking like that? Why does he talk like that but his brothers don't? But I also talk like that so here's that and here's connecting the dots, as I started doing a couple paragraphs ago.

Symptoms of bipolar disorder on average start manifesting during early adulthood, which checks out because Ivan is twenty-three. But he already seems to have a lot of experience "on the field" and it's unusual for someone that age, so it got me thinking a lot, mostly about my own experience. I was "lucky" enough (I still haven't figured out if I'm being sarcastic or not, as it can be both a blessing and a curse, how ironic) to develop symptoms way earlier than the usual onset age of twenty-five, which led me to being diagnosed and starting treatment as a teenager (blessing, the earlier you start treatment the more effective it is on the long run), but which also means I was a terrified child fighting for my life on a daily basis (curse, for obvious reasons) and I thought that maybe Ivan's background could be similar to mine considering what I said earlier about his very strong feelings towards the suffering of children; it's still projection but at least it makes sense. I genuinely don't know how common this experience is, apparently cases like mine are quite rare (I've had this disorder for most of my life), so I guess I also take some sort of comfort in Ivan's character due to this.

And with that, we're done with both The brothers get acquainted and Rebellion, so where does this leave The Grand Inquisitor? As I said earlier, there isn't much to say about it in my opinion when it comes to the point I'm trying to make, but there is one particular thing that I noticed: Ivan thanks Alyosha for listening to him, he thanks him for caring. I found it very sweet but also quite sad and I think it's useful insight about how Ivan lives his life and his relationships with other people. If everything goes as planned, part three should be mostly focused on that and Ivan's particular (and partially self-inflicted) loneliness (which is also tied to how other people perceive him, I already mentioned that, I know) so I won't talk about it now. I also want to highlight that Ivan makes a joke! It's not the usual kind of joke he makes though, as we previously see that Ivan's humor consists mostly of taking the piss out of people he doesn't particularly like or agree with, this time he makes a lighthearted joke about his poem that isn't at the expense of anyone ("that's plagiarism") and he's even described as being delighted in that moment. I personally found that cute and I think we don't talk about this side of Ivan enough.

I'll stop here because I think I covered everything I wanted to regarding these particular parts of the book. I'm not completely satisfied with this, but I got stuck for days because it was a little hard for me to write this part, I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible because I had to treat matters I'm sensitive about (hence the slight change of tone between this and my other posts, I noticed and I hope it wasn't too depressing, I tried throwing in some humor here and there), so I wrote in as little sittings as possible and I barely gave this a couple rereads, sorry. It feels more emotional than part one, which is something I am not a fan of but I'm not surprised and there isn't much I can do about it (other than fix my own discomfort with human emotions I guess but I'm working on it). I wanted to write this but at the same time I didn't but there was no way for me to completely exclude my personal experience as it's the main reason why I saw what I saw in Ivan and I'm writing this essay in the first place, but please don't dwell too much on it. I managed to edit most of it out anyway but still.

I wanted to go over Ivan's implied problem with alcohol as well and also the comparison with Dmitri (I mentioned him at the beginning for this reason) because I see the two of them as being two sides of the same coin, but I didn't really know how to include them (I think I'll briefly talk about the former in one of the next parts but I'm not sure how or when) and then I realised these topics can be treated together (as I think they're related) in a separate and more elaborate post that is not part of this essay, so look forward to that (and the rest of this long ass thing).

#writing this was a pain in the ass because I had to Expose Myself to a certain degree and I hate doing that #but now that I'm done I can finally move on to the other parts of the essay that don't make me think about my own life #the brothers karamazov #ivan karamazov #bipolar ivan karamazov agenda #thoughts #mine

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beanghostprincess · 3 months

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Sanuso (Usopp is transmasc btw. Important thing here) would have two twin daughters accidentally because they make love right after they see each other in Sabaody and they don't really have the time to think about protection or, you know, have common sense. Then, everything happens without the knowledge of Usopp being pregnant until the Dressrosa group arrives at Zou and Usopp starts feeling sick.

Btw, ignore all the common sense for pregnancy. I will do research but not much because the timeline in OP is so short and everything happens so fast and I want the angst to fit in here. So just assume everything I say is medically accurate.

Law instantly notices something's off and tells both Chopper and Usopp (when they reunite with the others) to join him in a more private place. Honestly, the only reason he's doing this is because he refuses to let one of these idiots get in the way of his mission and alliance, he doesn't want to know anything about romantic dramas or anything. Anyway, he has a talk with a very confused Usopp and asks questions that instantly make Chopper realize what's going on. Law ends up doing a quick check-up and... This is way worse than what he was expecting because he could kind of deal with a pregnant pirate, but a pirate pregnant with twins? No. This is a nightmare. Usopp is still confused and Law wants to get over with this already, so he's like: "Long story short, bad news. For me, mostly. And for you too, depending on how fond you are of kids and how much of a jerk is the person you slept with." And basically, Usopp panics. Sanji is loyal to him and they love each other. They even talked about how much they both wanted kids (they're not at that point yet and they didn't even say anything about having them together. They just said they wanted kids at some point) but he's still extremely worried about what Sanji might say. The thought of not having their kids doesn't even cross his mind until Law says: "I mean... I could just help you get rid of them. Poof! Bye babies. Hi pirating again. Hi Wano. And no words to daddy. Or mommy. Or whatever. How does that sound so we don't have to deal wit-" and Usopp instantly goes defensive about it, realizing that he wants to have them. Or at least talk to Sanji about it first.

Chopper hears everything and is there the whole time and... He doesn't have good news, of course, but he waits until all of them are together to tell them what happened with Sanji. This is the reason why Usopp refuses to go to Whole Cake Island and prefers to join the Wano group instead, knowing that the rescue adventure will be more dangerous and refusing to acknowledge that his boyfriend might get married to somebody else. He just tells Luffy to bring back Sanji for him. Almost begs him. And Luffy, carelessly as ever, accepts in the most optimistic of ways.

Usopp doesn't tell anybody about it and everyone thinks he's just sick. The only one who notices him being weird is Zoro, but when he asks what's wrong, Usopp refuses to tell him the truth and quite obviously lies about what's going on. Zoro just tells him to come to him if he ever needs anyone to talk to, and honestly? Who is he going to talk to? Franky? Robin could be a nice option, actually, but he doesn't really know how to approach the topic and he already knows that her calm, reassuring words won't be enough to calm him down. He needs honesty. Harsh reality. And he knows the answer is Zoro. Plus, they're closer. And Zoro obviously notices something. So Usopp can't keep the secret anymore because he's literally dying of stress as he thinks about Sanji and what's going on in WCI. He ends up telling Zoro and he's like:

Zoro: So what are you going to tell curly? Usopp: I'll just- I don't know. Zoro: Do you want the kids? Usopp: If he- Zoro: But do you? Usopp: I think so. Yes. Even if it looks harder to achieve my dream this way. Lots of pirates have had kids! Zoro: Then that's it. Solved. You're welcome. Usopp: Okay, haha, no. Nope. I'm not having these kids without him. Thank you. Zoro: Your body, your choice, your kids. If he doesn't want them and you do, he'll still have to deal with them. We're on the same crew. Usopp: So that's why I can't have them if he doesn't want them. I can't just-- Burden him with- Zoro: Well, the first mistake here was his. I even know about condoms. Usopp: You're not being very supportive right now, you know? Zoro: Well, you wanted the truth. This is the truth. You can do whatever the fuck you want. And what makes you think he won't want them, again? Usopp: Mm. I dunno. I just have the feeling something bad is going to happen soon. Zoro: He's a pussy and a women-obsessed weirdo but- He loves you. Or at least he looks like he loves you. And he's always annoying the shit out of me saying that once he has kids they're going to be better than mine, so he does want to have them. Even if it's only to piss me off. Usopp: I just- I think I just need to wait until he comes back. He will come back and we will talk about this. Zoro: You don't sound so sure. Usopp: No, I have never been more scared. I am not sure. But- Zoro: But when you're scared, the only thing left for you to do is to trust in Luffy. Usopp: Yeah. Trust in Luffy. If he doesn't come back with my boyfriend I am going to murder him. Zoro: Careful, you're starting to sound like you doubt our captain. Usopp: No. I trust Luffy to do everything he can. But Sanji's stubbornness is just... Too much sometimes.

But Sanji comes back to him. Obviously. And Usopp knows that, despite the bad feeling he's having about all of this, they will be alright. And I don't talk more about this because I have 0 energy right now to continue writing about this now. Maybe another day. I just wanted to post this right now because it's been on my drafts for AGES. So here it is. I will keep talking about this someday I promise.

Also, I made a post about the kids too a while back.

#yes i am writing a fic #no it will not be posted soon #because it's probably gonna be long af and i do not have the time #yes the twin girls are banchina and sora my beautiful ocs #my cute little girls that also have a brother years later #zoro my beloved he's protective and he loves usopp a lot okay #also sanji misses usopp like fucking crazy please #chopper can't keep a secret so sanji knows something's going on with usopp. he just doesn't know why and he NEEDS to get to wano right now #also bold of you to assume they have time to talk hahaha NO! the convo they have is post wano and there's angst with a happy ending #anyway i just love these two being parents leave me alone #one piece #black leg sanji #usopp #sanuso #sanuso parents au

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mistirimoose · 1 year

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▓ Yandere Sakura Haruno HCS ▓

warnings!: yandere themes, stalking, etc (you know the drill)

⍋ Really possessive. Doesn't show it that much though.

⍋ Got plans with anyone? not anymore.

⍋ In missions with her, she'll never take her eyes off of you.

⍋ Some people think you two are really close, very close best-friends, when really, she's just attached to you. In an unhealthy way.

⍋ You're her main focus in life. Sometimes she can't think of anything else except you and she doesn't know why

⍋ Is always really touchy, like, she can never keep her hands to herself whenever with you. But she acts like it's a normal thing, making you shrug it off.

⍋ Makes sure no-one comes near you. If anyone ever flirts with you, you'll never hear from them or see them again the second they turn their backs. You dont know why, even you find it suspicious, did you scare them away? Or Did they just lose interest in talking to you? Only one person knew why and you might find out who eventually...

⍋ Very jealous whenever someone flirts with you or whenever you give someone more attention than you give to her. She would interrupt you two and then insist to hang out with you until you eventually leave that person in the middle of hanging out with them cause she's very insistent with it, she drags you away innocently, smiling and talking with an unnoticeable hint of glint in her eyes and makes sure you give her a lot more attention than you gave that person. Afterwards she'll 'deal' with that person she stole you away from. No-one will get in between you two under her watch.

⍋ For some reason, she's always the one who heals your injuries, it's never anyone else, it's always her, for some reason...

⍋ Stalking you is her favourite thing to do, it's her favourite hobby besides talking to you, thinking about you, touching you, hugging you... And many others.

⍋ Analyzes the people you talk to, makes sure you're talking to the right people and not someone who would steal you away from her.

⍋ The more you avoid her the more she thinks about you. If you start to avoid her a little more, she'll stalk you to see why, maybe someone new is taking you from her? Or maybe you're just sick?

⍋ When missions are completed, she would high-five you or mostly hug you just to touch you, smell your nice scent and feel your body in her grasp.

⍋ Whenever you're in a vulnerable state, she would take advantage of this to get closer to you, like when you're sick in bed she'd use it to take care of you, 'be there for you', watch over you, visit you inside your home and possibly going into your room, longing to see you, saying she's here to check up on you, and as you're laying down in bed she'd take advantage of this whole 'you being sick' situation by sitting besides you on your bed, putting her hands on your forehead, 'checking your temperature'. But another reason why she does this is also because she genuinely cares, you're a friend of hers. Even though she really wishes you were more.

⍋ She loves long missions with you, missions that require you guys to end up staying in some place for the night. Not only does she get to spend some alone time with you for a couple of days without anyone from the village like Naruto interrupting it, she also gets to watch you sleep. She would always make sure you sleep first before her so that she could admire your sleeping figure. She loves your sleeping face, she thinks its so adorable.

⍋ She imagines her future with you. You're gonna marry her in one way or another, she wont let anyone else take her spot as your wife. She's longing for a future with you, living in a peaceful home, away from everyone else. She loves imagining fake scenarios of being your housewife, cooking while waiting for you to come back home, giving you welcome-home kisses every day whenever you come back from work, and taking care and raising your future child with her.

(I was supposed to post this tomorrow, but I got too impatient)

-Dayum this is my first time writing something yandere-material, never thought I would write something like this.-

#yandere naruto #yandere #sakura x reader #sakura headcanons #sakura haruno #haruno sakura #sakura #sakura chiyo #naruto headcanons #sakura haruno x reader #naruto shippuden #naruto

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hideousvoid · 1 year

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Hiii, I'm in a severe octavinelle brainrot, and I wanted to request hcs for Azul with a fem!reader that falls at first sight for him in the third book (when he scams all the students and give his speech) and from then on is very vocal about it, I'm picturing this dialogue:

Reader: I still don't get what he did wrong, he's great, I like him

Ace: Great?! This guy's the reason why we all have anemones on our heads and have to work for free!

Reader: Nope, the reason why of all that it's that you're lazy and dumb and made a contract with the shadiest person on campus

Deuce: ...I thought you liked him?

Reader: the shadiness is part of his charm ~ ♡

And then maybe the twins tell him, or he was listening all along. It can be yandere or not, whatever you're in the mood for, sorry if it's too specific !!! Don't feel obligated to write it, thank you for reading this

Trapped at first sight

reader: gender neutral

warnings: stalking mentions, possessive behaviour, obsession, delusional yandere and etc.

author note: I don't do fem!readers so i changed it to gn, hopefully you aren't annoyed for it. Since the thirst for Octavinille I can recommend you to check my masterlist and read my works, have a nice day <3

・゜゜・┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

The first time you two made eye contact he felt a shiver run along his spine, but would you ever go on a date with him? The man that was once only a pathetic octopus? Same one that is tricking every student to make a contract only to his own good? Don't get him wrong, Azul loves his work but it's not morally correct and it's illegal in school. You two never talked before, the octoman is always busy and plus very shy when it's not about his work or school.

He became red when the eels revealed about your chats and "jokes" with your friends, so you were thinking of him and unfortunately knew of his contracts. Well it may slipped out of his mouth the words "let me know more about them", don't get too scared when you hear a little laugh or a pair of eyes on you. The dorm leader needs and must know your intentions, having you use or manipulate him is the last thing that will happen.

Hearing your soft words even though his actions warmed a place in his heart, just a little hug was enough for him but acting impulsively isn't wise so he just waited. Ace and Deuce weren't happy at all, why having a crush on someone like him? Many students could be better but you chose the only one that was giving problems. Still the worst was ahead of you and your friends, so much more to discover about the Octavinille's dorm leader.

So much shame filled him during his overblot, did anyone else than the twins see his merform? Did you lay your gaze on his octoform? His past, thoughts and more flying in the water, making Azul regret everything even the littlest thing. What were your thoughts on him now? After seeing his "disgusting" self and secrets, only a little hope that you wouldn't leave him was still present in his heart.

Once you went to visit him at the mostro lounge he almost had an heart attack, knowing that you forgave him and still needed his presence. Being straight forward and confessing how much you liked his personality, intelligence, hobbies but mostly his original form.. The second-year was going insane, how desperate were you for him? Or he was the worst one between the two? It wasn't important, he had enough courage to grab your arm and pull you to his favourite spot only to wrap his body around yours, feeling your warmth and hot breath on his skin. Finally he wasn't alone anymore, no more waiting and he could have been himself with someone who isn't the twins. Azul is going to be clingy as the octopus he is, so good luck and don't take any wrong steps or a punishment is ahead.

#twst #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #twst writing #gn reader #gender neutral mc #gender neutral reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #twst hcs #azul ashengrotto headcanons #yandere twisted wonderland #tw stalking mention #tw possessiveness #tw obsessive thoughts

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ellieslittlebitch69 · 1 year

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Home Is Where the Heart Is

Summary: first person pov-- after escaping David's cult, you come to find jackson all on your own. your family is dead. but, you have to find something to keep fighting for.

Hello y'all! This is my first tlou fic! It takes place in first person pov, without the use of y/n bc idk why but it always feels out of place to me, and interupts the flow. This is reader x Ellie and this is set right after the ending of tlou 1. I plan for this to be long with frequent updates, hope you guys enjoy!! This is more of a prologue than a chapter one, since it's so short, mostly provides background info.

----

At this point, I was beyond ready to fucking die.

I had been walking aimlessly in the woods alone for two weeks now, constantly shivering. My toes lost feeling ages ago, everywhere else I was feeling too much. All of my wounds from head to toe had been sticky, especially my ankle, with snow and drying blood. My stomach never stopped growling, the last thing I ate was the remaining mint leaves from my pack, washing it down with handfuls of snow.

It was better than before, anyways.

Father and I escaped from David's group in mid December. Between the low rations of food, the disappearance of Mother and little sister Bonnie’s corpses, and the beatings David’s men loved to give if you even coughed during bible study, we decided to take our chances deep in the trees. Besides, I had grown up in the woods. It would be like going home.

Instead, these woods were nothing of my own. The trees hold tons of pillowed ice, plopping onto your head any moment they so choose. Game was sparse, Father was lucky to return with an arrow in between a singular rabbit’s head. Worst of all, the fear of leaving a trail for David’s men to come collect us, or our bodies. I didn’t know which sounded worse.

We both quickly lost any sense of body fat to keep us warm, and we both knew the dangers of lighting a fire in the open. It was hard to keep going, when I was praying to die from starvation already. We had somewhere to go. Somewhere we could finally be safe.

We had heard whispers of the town of Jackson a couple of years ago, right before we made the decision to follow David along to Silver Lake. A town of communism, shared items, a community as a whole. It sounded too good to be true, and there was no proof of it ever existing. Mother had just given birth, and knew deep within her heart that she could never make the travel if there wouldn’t be immediate care. And then his men found us in the woods.

As we traveled, father never stopped trying to keep a smile on my face. He would make silly faces as we walked along the trail, continuing long after I’d give in with a contagious giggle escaping my lips. On quiet nights, he would tell stories of the war, with booming side effects and glowing facial expressions. It was nice to hear the sounds of our laughter, at least more than the sounds of our hunger.

He never made it to Jackson. Just as we were within a day of travel, we were met with a lone clicker, aimlessly wandering the woods. The snow made it impossible to run, and only had a handful of arrows left. I didn’t even get to say a word before father charged it, shoving me down a valley before doing so. When I did turn my head, I could hear the crack of his neck.

When I finally approached the end of a steep hill, numb and weak, the first sight I had was a gun barrel pointing to my lips. Horses surrounded me, along with several other barrels loaded and pointing straight ahead. I held my breath, finally waiting for the sweet release of a bullet. My whole family was gone, my skin was beaten and covered in blood, and I could see my bones through it all. There was no point anymore. I was finally finished.

As I closed my eyes, waiting for the final noise of the raiders finishing me off, I hear a dry, low voice, “Have you been near Infected?”

I look up to the man, deep blue eyes and furrowed eyebrows, the rest of his face covered by a silk handkerchief. His eyes were pained, looking down to see my coat soaked with blood and snow.

“Not within the last two weeks,” I husk. I can feel my throat crack, and ringing begin to play in my hears like a drum.

The man looks beside him, and my eyes follow to see a thick, large dog with growling teeth, his neck and chin dribbling with saliva. I wonder the last time they’d given it a meal.

Maybe I was the meal. Dogs do like bones, after all.

Whatever way it goes, I know that it will end with my final breath. I feel a lump form in my throat, “If you’re going to kill me, please do it already.”

The words barely leave my mouth in time for the dog to come crashing to the snow, hurdling towards me. I don’t even have the energy to flinch, instead my legs give out just as I feel myself turning away. The snow covers my limbs as I close my eyes, waiting for the first blow.

Instead, I’m met with the dog licking my face, warming my nose. Just as a smile comes to my lips, everything fades to black.

—

My eyes flutter open to see two of the cowboys from yesterday, a man and a woman, standing over me with gentle faces. The air is warm, like springtime in the woods at home. Everything feels like a dream. As I look down, I see a plethora of thick, wool blankets piled onto my frail body. The air smells of clementines and vanilla, which automatically makes my mouth water.

And then I realize. The cowboys, with guns, are standing over my weak body.

My body moves before I can think, as I shoot out of the bed and run for the door, the cool tile hitting my pads of my feet before I immediately collapse onto the floor with a thud. My breath quickens as I begin to crawl slowly, ignoring the shaking in my hands.

The man sighs, and leans over to pick me up, which results in me screaming and spitting in his face. If they’ve kept me alive, that means they want something from me. Life isn’t free, and after my horrors in David’s cult, I couldn’t bare anymore.

The man sighs, “Easy, young lady. We’re here to help you.”

“Help me?” I shriek, my voice catching in my throat. “Is that why you pointed a dozen guns at me?”

‘Well, we can’t just let anyone in you know.” I begin to notice his features as he comes into focus. Long, black hair just past his ears that almost curl at the ends, deep big brown eyes, and a bushy mustache that covers his upper lip as he attempts a smile. It’s almost comforting.

Almost.

We stare in silence at each other for a moment, as I gather the energy to bring my knees to my chest. My breathing slows as I look over to the woman, who stands over the man’s shoulder. She smiles at me, a warm genuine smile, that is reflected in her honey eyes. It reminds me of Mama.

“We are not going to hurt you,” she begins slowly. “You’re in our hospital, where we’ve been treating your wounds. Hypothermia, several open wounds, bruised ribs, and clearly starvation.”

I nod to her slowly, not releasing the grip on my knees. As I look around, I realize she’s telling the truth. Monitors color the walls next to the bed, along with a tray of food in the woman’s hands. As my eyes graze the window, I notice green blades of grass blowing in the breeze.

“Now, can Tommy help you back to bed so we can chat?”

I allow Tommy to pick me up slowly, wincing as I realize how stiff my entire body feels. As I lay back into the blankets, I immediately burrow into them as the woman places the tray in front of me slowly. Piles of roasted potatoes, seared chunks of meat, and what looks like miniature cabbages. I can’t stop myself from digging in with my hands.

Tommy chuckles, “Easy now, little one. Don’t wanna over do it. We have plenty of food to go around.”

I ignore him as I devour my plate. Where are they getting all of this? I hadn’t eaten a potato in years, and this meat was deprived of the usual freezer burn of David’s. It was tender, juicy, flavorful. All delicacies that I’d been deprived of since I was a little girl. It was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

The woman smiles, “My name is Maria. Now, Before we can help you, I need you to answer a few of my questions. Can you do that for me, honey?”

I can feel myself soften at her words, my mouth coated in the juices of the meat. Before I can even ask, Tommy slides over a tall glass of cool water. It runs down my throat, and for the first time in a while I don’t feel it hit the pit of my stomach.

“Did you travel here alone?”

I shake my head, “No, ma’am. My father started to travel with me but um… he didn’t make it.”

Maria sighs, “I am so sorry for your loss. I only ask to make sure no one will come looking for you, we try to keep a low profile.”

“We?” I ask, looking around. “What even is this place?”

The two look at each other knowingly with a smile, before their gaze returns to me. Tommy looks as if he recognizes me from somewhere, but I can’t quite place his face.

“Welcome to Jackson,” Tommy says. “Were you looking to travel somewhere else?”

My smile erupts with delight. I had made it! I don’t know how, but by the grace of god I made it alive. “This… this is Jackson? I made it?”

“Yes, yes you did,” her voice replies sweetly. “And you are more than welcome to stay, if you choose.”

“Well fuck yeah I want to stay,” I giggle, taking a mouthful of potato. “Wait, that’s it? You’re just… letting me stay? There’s gotta be a catch.”

She nods, “Well, for a few months you’ll be in recovery. You should be cleared for release soon, we’ll assign you somewhere to live in the town. Normally we would put you with another family, but we got some town homes hooked up with power, so if you want a place to yourself it’s yours.”

I continue to listen to her, nodding as I continue to eat myself sick.

“Once you’re all healed up, you’ll need to help out in the community. Pick a job, so to speak. You’ll also be included in patrols once you turn sixteen. Help keep everyone safe and whatnot.”

I wait for her to continue on with the terms, but there’s nothing more. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she smiles. “Is there anything you’re interested in doing? Agriculture, community work, hunting?”

Tommy clears his throat, “You did bring one hell of a bow with you.”

“Had to feed my family somehow,” I say, wiping my mouth with a sleeve. “My father taught my archery, and I’m pretty average at foraging.”

“Excellent. We’ll have you placed with our hunting team. While we do keep and butcher, it’s always better to have more than none.”

An awkward silence fills the room as I take my last bite of the meal, holding myself back from licking the plate clean. That was the biggest plate I’d ever been given. That entire plate could have fed my entire family. Then I remember, that none of them are left.

Maria claps her hands together, “Great! Well, the townhomes are located near town square, near Joel’s. Tommy will walk you over to get settled, and I’ll come by later with prescriptions and whatnot. Does that sound okay?’

Nodding, I begin to stand as Tommy shakes his head, “None of that, peach. You may be discharged but you still need to heal if you wanna walk normal any time soon. I’ll go grab you a wheelchair.”

As Tommy rolls me along the street, I take in the sights of Jackson. Large, lit up buildings with smoke exiting the tops. Shops, pens for animals, even a movie theater. The sun kissed my skin gently, a warm breeze passing through my curly hair, filled with matts. I didn’t even care, because for the first time in my life I felt free.

As we turn a few corners, we approach a medium sized building with a staircase on the side, four large doors separating the space. The paint, deep blue, was slightly chipping at the ends. It wasn’t much, but I guess now it’ll be home.

As Tommy fumbles with the keys, I hear him sigh, “I’m sorry you’re here all alone, little one. Young girl like you deserves a family.”

I can’t bring myself to say anything as the lump in my throat swells. I hadn’t really ever taken the time up until this point to realize, my family was gone. Truly gone, and I’d never be able to see them again. I can hear the sound of father’s laughter in my mind, frowning at the thought that one day I may forget it. It leaves a pang in my chest.

“But I hope that one day,” Tommy continues, “Maybe Jackson can be your family.”

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