#but now he’s saying he’s not comfortable acting the same way we always have even though he’s the one who didn’t change anything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starillusion13 · 1 month

Note

Hi! can I request an ateez 9th member poly au but the scenario is they make her feel left out, being mean and entertains another girl from another grp and she was painted as the villain by that girl! so they gang up on her, she suddenly left the group and now they’re chasing her back!!

Missing Piece

Pairing: Ateez!ot8 x f!reader

Genre: Idol au, Angst, Mature

Warnings: ignorance, tired, mention of drugs( just a rumor), leaving the group, feeling left out, light arguments, anxiety, evil intentions(a pick me not y/n), a mess of emotions nothing more.

W.C: 6.9k

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate. After writing this fic, I realized that I don't know how to write 9th member fics😔. I hope this what you wanted anon<3.

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Now let’s take a moment to appreciate my dear friend @dreamsoffanfics Thanks for helping me out and being my proofreader. A dear friend indeed <3.

"Congratulations Ateez!"

Whenever this phrase echoed, you always felt proud and satisfied with yourself for coming a long way. It's obvious that your hard work and determination made it possible for you to stand strong and shine on this ground.

But, a wave of emotions was running inside you today because of the feelings that are itching your mind.

The scandals you are in lately.

The staff and other idols who are passing by while making your way towards the private room are constantly congratulating you and the members of your group. They all are having a wide smile across their faces but you just hesitantly smiled towards others. You know very well that everyone is aware of the scandal you are currently dealing with.

You excuse yourself from the washroom and Hongjoong notices you stepping away in another direction. He called out your name and asked where you were off to but you didn't reply or turned back.

All the members were gathered in front of their room to enter but when they saw their leader---the captain was standing in front of the door and looking in a particular direction. They all looked towards your fading figure into the hallway.

"Where is she going now?" San asked the captain but quickly noticed the anger on his face.

Hongjoong slammed open the door and others followed him inside the room, "I don't know. She didn't reply to me when I asked her. She is really becoming stubborn."

"What's her problem? Isn't she acting so childish all the time?" Mingi slumped down on a cushioned chair and closed his eyes when placing himself comfortably.

Jongho shook his head while removing the mic and earpiece from around his neck and placing it on the wide desk in front of the mirror. "What about the updates on her scandal? The way she is sneaking around here and there, I feel like believing those are not just scandals."

"No. I don't think that's possible. I don't see a sign from her taking any drugs." Seonghwa stated and looked at the leader who was leaning against the wall after removing all the unnecessary items from him. When he caught his eyes, the one standing sighed.

"But she didn't even deny it." Hongjoong said and raised a brow.

Yeosang nodded and spoke up, earning others attention to his words,"When the manager asked her to explain the matter she remained silent and was staring down as if she was high on drugs. Even when the company tried to answer the question about her on the internet, she refused to make a statement."

Some of them nodded and others had confusion visible on their faces.

Wooyoung pointed at your bag beside his and asked, "why did she bring this bag again?" He lifted the bag and found it to be the same bag which you're carrying everywhere, "it seems like she has a lot of stuff inside it."

"Open it." Hongjoong orders the younger one but he hesitated to the command. "I said open it. I am asking you for it and she has no say in this."

"But it's a girl's bag."

"Don't act like we don't stay together. Even if I ask her about bringing this bag, she won't reply. And if something inappropriate is there then we would apologize to her later."

The younger nodded but before he could open the bag. The manager entered. Hongjoong signaled to put the bag down.

It was always a bit challenging for you to be in a group where you are the only female member. All the fans accepted you very willingly and gave you lots of love on the day when it was announced you would be the last member of the debut line. Yeah, the competition had always included the five girls with the boys but you didn't expect back then to be in the lineup of the final showdown. As you were very sure of Minnie to be debuting with them. Her talents and looks are always remarkable and you admired her dance moves and vocals so much. And, you're sure others loved her more than you. They have a strong friendship with her even after her debuting in a different group 'Stray Kids'.

But your members never made you feel left out or different for being a girl. At first they were a bit hesitant to have you as the member but gradually you all became close and had so much fun together during the first MV shooting. Your debut was memorable with you all traveling to a different country and experiencing several new things.

Moreover, your members treated you like the baby of the group. They pampered you so much and of course, they won't leave a chance to annoy the shit out of you. You felt closer with Jongho because he was around your age so you were always paired up with him. And that's how the deep friendship started between you both.

Ateez are very close with Stray Kids and for that you all often meet them to dine out and hang out on off schedule days and after encore and promotion stages. You loved Minho's company a lot because you both clicked together perfectly. But there was something you noticed: San doesn't like you spending time with Stray Kids and sometimes, he and the others often drag you away with your members telling them that they need to hurry back to the dorm because something urgent came up. Only for you to get scolded later by Hongjoong that being so friendly with others would lead you to get into a lot of scandals.

What about them?

They often can be seen talking with Minnie after the performances or concerts and even two or three of them hanging out with her. Did you ever say anything? No. Then how come the dating rules only apply to you? You had enough one day and screamed at her and them, telling them that because of her Ateez would soon be under controversy but she quickly apologized to you and cried to them.

That was not the end. Because of her Hongjoong treated you really badly. He and other members used harsh words on you and others supported him on the fact that you had overreacted for no reason. They really started to go out alone without you - you were already used to it. But after the incident, they purposely made you feel left out. That didn't even stop them being friendly with her. They even did the new dance challenge with her and the way she was leaning on Seonghwa's arm made you glare at the video longer until the manager announced the practice time.

All these struggles really made you exhausted day by day and it's even showing in your performances and interaction with others. One afternoon, you were in the middle of the preparation for the comeback when you suddenly got to know about something trending under your name on all social media platforms.

'Is y/n really taking drugs?'

And the comments under the post - some supporting your side saying it's fake but you were shocked to see the amount of people believing the post and making strong comments that your recent appearances do look like you are under its effects. You ignored the news, you ignored everyone. You thought about the trainee days and then after debuting. You had lots of fun with Ateez. There are a lot of good memories and there are a lot more than just memories which couldn't be revealed everywhere. You tried to talk with others but never had the courage so you kept everything to yourself. Whenever you were asked to clarify on this matter, you remained silent.

One day, finally you had a talk session with your manager to discuss the ongoing situation. Many of your fans went against you and you accepted their opinions because you didn't make any strong denial statement on it so it's obvious for people to suspect you. You are being a bad influence on the industry.

"Are you sure about this?" the manager had concern and worry etched across her face but you just nodded and sighed when she kept staring at you.

"I don't want to change my mind. I have come up with this decision after thinking a lot."

She opened a file on her tablet before passing it to you to read, "read this. And, what about them? This is a big decision so please think carefully."

"I know."

"Will you be fine after this? People might blame you more."

"I don't have any other option. Even if I have, this is the only thing that seems right to me right now."

She just nodded in acceptance.

As the manager entered the room, she noticed Wooyoung placing your bag down to the side of the chair. Hongjoong stepped forward to greet her and she sent a quick smile to everyone present in the room, also noticing your absence there.

"You all don't have any more upcoming schedules this week so hurry up, we have to leave for the dorm. You guys look so tired. You all didn't got enough rest the last few days." She announced and stared at Hongjoong who seemed to want to ask her something.

"Do you want to say something?"

He nodded, "Y/n is not here since we came back from the stage. She went towards the stairs and I asked her but she seemed a bit lost. Where is she? Do you know about it?"

She sighed, "she is probably in the restroom, don't worry."

"Before the day of the comeback, she had a talk with you. What did she tell?" Seonghwa asked, who was now wearing a black t-shirt with just a washed face. He wasn't wearing his stage outfit anymore.

"You all will get to know about it tomorrow morning."

"What is it that you can't tell us now?" San asked her curiously.

She shook her head, "it's not like that. I can tell you but she doesn't want me to tell you. Don't get your hopes up. Just know it's nothing good." She handed over the food bag to them so that they could feed themselves inside the van while going back home. She asked the last two members to quickly change into a comfortable outfit and took your outfit to the restroom.

As soon as she handed you the outfit, you thanked her and asked her to wait outside. Changing into the comfortable soft fabrics made you sigh in relief. But you felt tears welling up in your eyes while staring down at the mic, earpiece and the stage outfit in your hand. A lot of emotions coursing through you but your mind was only focusing on the fact - this was your last stage performance.

You wiped your tears and put on a fake smile before exiting the door. the manager took the things from your hands but before you could step forward, she grabbed your wrist and looked at your face, scanning the smudged eyeshadow and liner. You were crying and she caressed your hand.

"Y/n, you are not okay with this. Please, I would suggest that you change your mind."

You shook your head before removing her hand. "Trust me. I will be okay without all of these problems." She watched your retreating figure until you took a sharp turn.

When you reached the door of the private room, it was expected to hear their loud laugh or them having weird singing competitions that could be heard from outside. But now, it's so quiet. Are they that tired? Or did they already leave for the dorm without you? That's not possible, the car was for you nine so it won't leave until nine of you have entered it.

You tightly held the handle before pushing the door open only to find them gathered around the couch but staring at you. You noticed Wooyoung holding a bag at the end of the couch.

A bag, wait, your bag. No!

You hurriedly went over to the couch to find it was your bag and the things were already scattered on it. You tried to pull the bag from his hold until Yeosang grabbed your wrist and turned you around.

"What is this?" he asked you in a demanding tone.

You licked your lips before prying his hand off from your wrist, "nothing. you don't have to know." You snatched the bag, "and why did you even touch my bag without my permission?"

"Since when are we asking each other to touch our things?" Yunho asked and got up from the chair to make his way towards you. You tried to pick up the things and place them inside the bag but Hongjoong blocked your hand and signaled Mingi to take the things away from you. The tall man finally stood in front of you, "and you better explain what all these boxes are for?"

"Nothing..."

Yunho exhaled sharply and grabbed your biceps tightly, "Y/n, what are you hiding from us? what is it that you can't tell us?"

Mingi was glancing between you and the things which he was putting inside the bag. Seonghwa stood beside the man holding you and stared at you sharply, "are these the drugs?"

"Please just shut up!" you screamed at them.

They slightly flinched at your sudden outburst but it was not noticeable by you as your teary eyes blurred your view. You put your palm over your ears and closed your eyes tightly.

"Please shut up. I can't hear any more of this. I know you don't trust me like before but please don't blame me every time. Because of me, this group is already under so much controversy and I'm really sorry for that."

You were going through a lot and having them all cornering you in the room, confined to a little space was too much.

San pushed Yunho so that he could hug your crying form, "It's okay, y/n. No one is blaming you. But why are there so many boxes containing various pills in your bag? You can tell me if those are distractions." he continuously rubbed your back.

You were crying in his hold, clutching his white t-shirt tightly. He didn't care that his fresh t-shirt was getting wet because of your tears when you were crying helplessly. It was breaking their heart to see you like this but what could they do. If you are doing something wrong then they must solve it and for that they need to talk to you but here you are not telling anything and always ignoring them since the incident happened between you and Minnie.

Realizing you were holding San tightly, you quickly removed his arms from around you and glared at him. Everyone observed your sudden change in mood and Hongjoong held your biceps to turn you towards him. At the tight hold you said harshly "let go of me."

"Y/n, enough. What's wrong with you suddenly?" His demanding tone was obvious and your glaring eyes didn't faze his expression. "Don't show me that look."

"Then leave me."

"Joong, leave her hand. We are all tired and we need to go to the dorm. We can ask her about this there." Seonghwa said calmly and placed his palm on the younger's shoulder. the latter sighed and you snatched your hand from him.

Everyone's eyes followed how disheveled you were looking while picking up your things and no one tried to stop you as you were all going to the same place after all. When you pulled the zip of your bag, Wooyoung stepped forward to offer you the food but you rejected it and went outside the room, slamming the door. They flinched at the loud noise but no one noticed your tears and emotions while exiting the private room backstage for the last time.

"I will be good without all of them." You have repeated this line to yourself a lot of times but still you felt the emotions to return back all over again.

Wiping your eyes, you raised your head only to find Minnie standing in front of you with folded hands and innocent eyes, the way she always looks at others. She was still wearing a faerie stage outfit and smiling at you. Ignoring her presence, you tried to turn around but her voice made you halt.

"Are you carrying those drugs in the bag again? So should I post it clearly that you are being spotted taking drugs?" she was smirking when you turned around.

"What are you saying?" You gripped the bag tightly when she glanced at it and chuckled. Stepping forward to you, her smirk grew wider, "it was me who posted that about you. and even if you say this to anyone, no one is going to believe you."

"It was...you." you watched her in disbelief when she lightly laughed and twirled a strand of hair between her delicate thin fingers. She pouted and blinked at you, "you shouted at me in front of them so I had to take my revenge."

"And it's just-"

"It hurts my pride." She made a disgusted face at you and bumped against your shoulder, "well, thank me for not doing something else but....I just ruined your career. Goodbye!"

You saw her walking like on a cat walk towards the corridor and smiling innocently to everyone in her way. She turned a little and smirked at you before taking a turn leaving you there in shock.

"Y/n...you're still here." You heard Jongho's voice and then saw others exiting the room but before they could ask you something, you ran towards the elevator and fortunately it just opened for the staff members queuing in front of it and you got inside with them. They were all glancing at you because of your weird behavior and you being alone with a sad look.

As soon as the ding sound indicated the arrival to the ground floor, you wasted no time and speedily walked towards the car. You got inside and sat in the far back, waiting for others to come.

After they got into the car, they found you sleeping peacefully at the back. "She is sleeping." Yunho told others and placed your head on his shoulder while adjusting in the seat beside you.

"Let her sleep. She is extremely tired." Hongjoong said and scolded Wooyoung who was about to say something loudly.

Seonghwa shook his head, "but she has to eat."

"I will feed her after we reach home. Leave her for a while. Let's not ask her anything more today." Yeosang started and closed his eyes while leaning back.

Yunho kept stroking your head so that you don't wake up and he felt you nuzzling into him and he smiled while looking down at you.

>>>><<<<

You stretched your arms, you heard their voices coming from a distance. You groaned and rubbed your eyes. Your body was aching so bad that you felt like going back to sleep again. But then you remembered your plans for this night.

You got up and stepped outside the room, their voices were coming from the living room and when some of them caught your sleepy figure entering the room they sent a smile towards you.

"Y/n come eat with me. Others have already had their dinner and I will accompany you while the rest keep doing whatever they do at the moment." Yeosang called you from the table and patted the chair beside him. You were hungry but you didn't feel like eating anything because of all the emotions you had inside.

Is my decision okay?

You shook off the feeling and walked towards the table. Some returned back to discuss the topic they were busy with and the youngest of the two joined you both at the table.

"So, as we don't have a schedule this week. How about we go on a trip somewhere?" Wooyoung suggested and Yeosang nodded before urging to start eating.

Your heart ached when you heard the joy in his voice and how they were planning for the week.

"But can we not spend time inside the dorm? I don't feel like going out." Jongho whined.

"What do you say, y/n?" Yeosang asked and you glanced at him to your side but remained silent.

He shared a glance with Wooyoung before the younger one spoke up: "Hey! Do you want to stay inside or go out? We will decide after what you say."

"I......whatever you all will agree on." You mumbled softly.

"But-"

"I said whatever you guys will agree on! It doesn't matter what I say. You all will be off on your own." You stood up from the table and took deep breaths, "have fun without me. Whatever you guys do, enjoy yourself and live a happy life."

"Y/n...if-"

"Yeo I don't want to hear anything. I'm going to sleep. Goodnight."

The moment you had to pass the couch where others were sitting but their attention was on you after you shouted at the table, Mingi grabbed your hand, "Are you okay?"

You glanced at the grip and to the others.

"You all are always meant for each other. The eight of you are soulmates and I'm just an extra character who acted as a villain in the group and destroyed your success with my scandal."

Hongjoong stood up, "Don't think like that. We can sort this out together."

"No. People already hate me for this and even if I try to claim myself innocent then all the fame I have already lost is never coming back. I'll still receive more hate. It wouldn't have happened if you guys really cared for me." You whispered the last line.

San scratched his neck and spoke up, "But you have us. Even if they hate you, we will show them that you are the best."

"But you don't have me. I can't do anything in return so it's better for me to move away from the scene so that you don't have a problem on your way to success. There's still a long way to go and I can't stop you all from that."

Seonghwa shook his head, "You are not stopping us. You keep us motivated, Y/n. You'll always be with us like the final missing piece of the puzzle."

"Sometimes there's an extra piece to distract you and confuse you and I'm that extra piece. You are already complete without me."

"Why are you thinking like this?" Mingi asked you softly.

"Because you all made me feel like this." You sighed and turned back but before stepping forward, you said loudly, "Just remember that even if I'm not with you all in this journey you all will move forward and achieve everything. You deserve a lot and on top of that, be happy. Don't let yourself fall apart because of a missing piece."

Your quick steps led you to your room and you fell on your bed. Cries getting muffled by the sheet and you pushed your face into it more. When you were saying those words earlier, you stood strong but deep down, your heart was heavy.

Time passed and you didn't realize when you fell asleep. A figure stepped inside your room, he smiled at your sleeping figure, his dimples peeking out even in the dark and his sharp eyes staring at you softly. He adjusted your body to a comfortable position and pulled you closer to him, lulling you to sleep. You mumbled something in your sleep and he smiled and patted your head. Soon, he fell asleep with you in his arms.

Now, this is the secret that nobody knows yet. You're dating all of them. Since the day of the debut you all found comfort in each other's arms. This can't be mentioned in the public media and nothing can be obvious if you are really dating one of them - let alone all of them. They're always so protective and showered you with love, making your heart warm and a wide smile visible on your face.

In many shows and interviews, you've referred to them as your strongest pillars of life and that you would be always thankful to them for being with you.

But lately it turned into a disaster after you all met her again after a year at the show when Minnie introduced herself to them and they became friends quickly. You didn't mind the friendship at first but when they started to blame you on whatever she tells them, they started pointing out her right proving you wrong in every aspect.

She really had to destroy your career---even your relationship with them.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

"You are here?" Yunho yawned while nodding his head and rubbed his eyes while making his way towards the table after greeting the leader. "I thought you're the one sleeping with her."

Yunho shook his head before gulping down the water, "No. San told me that he wanted to sleep with her." Hongjoong nodded and turned his attention back to the food on the table.

The rest of them soon started to gather around in the living room. Wooyoung saw San coming last into the wide space but all alone. He creased his brows and asked him, "Isn't she coming for breakfast?" He put down the plate on the table.

"It'll soon be lunch time." Jongho said and laughed. Yeah, it's true that they woke up so late that they have passed the morning and it's already noon but they're still preparing breakfast.

San, who was still rubbing his eyes, looked at him and then around the room, "She isn't here?"

"No..."

"When I woke up, she was not in the bed."

Hongjoong stood up and took the phone in his hand before watching everyone in confusion,

"Did she tell any of you where she is going today? Does she have something to do?"

He dialed your number but the line was dead.

Mingi skipped to your room to see if you had left any sticky note but nothing was there. Wait. Not even your things were there. Only a few items were there but the photo frames with a few boxes were missing too. He went back into the living room to inform the others about it. They were so lost and confused about the situation when suddenly the doorbell rang.

Jongho quickly opened it to be greeted by their manager whose appearance was more serious than usual. She walked inside and looked at everyone before sighing and sitting on the chair near her, "Have you checked your phones?"

When they shook their heads and told her that they had just woken up. She turned her phone screen around to take a look at it.

'Y/n, the member of Ateez is leaving the group...'

San snatched the phone from her hand and scrolled down the whole post only to find out the news was announced by their own company and there was also an apology letter from your side posted. So many things happened just in the morning.

"What is this? Where is she?" Hongjoong demanded a clarification of this situation from her but she only shook her head before brushing some strands of hair back.

"She has already left the place. These past few days, you were busy and didn't notice her preparing for this day so I was there to help her collect everything. I tried to change her decision, make her understand but she had already lost hope in this. She was so disturbed with the whole scandal and all."

"Can't we contact her?" Wooyoung asked her while tears were threatening to fall from his eyes.

"No. Your company has banned you from having any contact with a former member. I don't think it's good for your image."

"I don't care about my image. I want her back. How can she leave the group? And she didn't tell us anything about this the whole time..."

Seonghwa looked at the leader and sighed, "That's why she was saying things like that last night."

And now, they realized how they have ignored you all these past months just to believe that girl whom they had befriended and trusted so much that they doubted you on taking drugs and being jealous of others too much.

But their career can't be stopped here. They need to move forward on this journey - even if that means with a missing piece in their group.

>>>><<<<

[2 years later]

"8 makes 1 team...Hello we are Ateez."

The whole audience in the arena cheered. Ateez with wide smiles and sparkling eyes were watching their fans from overseas greeting them by shouting out their names. They felt so loved at that moment that they forgot the pain inside their heart, not getting to be loved by you anymore.

They love their fans a lot but your love was the precious one and when Yeosang realized that you were not there beside him in the choreography, tears fell from his eyes. It's already been 2 years but still everytime he cries during this step where you are no longer smiling while spinning with him in the center.

The concert went for two hours and they quickly changed into some casual wear afterwards and decided on takeout for the day.

The next day, at night they planned to stroll around the city and take in the view of the new place overseas and enjoy the place. They were not given any schedules for the vlog so they were free to roam around.

"I have seen this place just across the street that has a good variety of foods. Let's try it out." Yunho stated his search for this place and others agreed quickly.

All of them entered the big glass door of the restaurant and eyes roaming around in appreciation of the new place. The things decorating the tables, shelves and each corner with the soft melody of the overflowing music with the right amount of warmth and light were a perfect setting. Many customers turned towards them, a table with four girls recognized them but the rest just watched them curiously as they were standing awkwardly until a waiter offered them a helping hand.

They opted for a table at the very end as it was a bit away from the other tables and a bit hidden by a wooden rack.

They all settled down and the waiter waited for them to order. After a lot of complaints, whines, bickers and scolding, they had decided on the menu to be ordered finally.

For the time being, they were waiting for the food to arrive. They gossiped on a lot of stuff, few scrolling through Instagram and taking aesthetic pictures of the place but they don't forget to see any update from your private account. nothing. Jongho sighed and switched off his phone.

"Here is the food!" A cheerful voice made them look up at the person with two others trailing behind her. The girl didn't look at their faces but the eight boys from around the table were staring at her. she was joking with the girl beside her while placing all the bowls down the table. the other two left her when she turned around, "is there some-"

her voice got lost in her throat when she finally locked eyes with the ones watching her intently.

"y/n. you are here."

oh. they're having tours in this country. you're so busy these past few days that you didn't notice that they have announced the tour dates. yeah, even if you have left the group and moved away to a different country, you keep yourself updated with them.

you just can't get over them and this kills you inside.

"uh...um...congratulations on the comeback."

"Why did you leave the group? You don't even contact any of us." Hongjoong asked you from just the opposite direction from where you were standing.

"Isn't it obvious that I left the group not to keep in touch with you all?"

"But why?"

"Now your group is free from scandals and under no controversy. You all are having comebacks and your fans even forgot about me and giving you all the love you guys deserve. So what's the point of me being there." You chuckled in an unamused way.

Wooyoung stood up and suddenly hugged you catching you off guard, "you don't know how much we missed you. Everyday we thought that you'll call one of us or will show up to the front door. But you totally disappeared."

"It hurt us, baby. It hurts to not wake up to your side. It hurts not to see your smiling face and you walking around the dorm. Heck! I watched all the videos of you to hear your voice." San bit his lip to prevent himself from crying.

It hurts me too...

You just curled your fingers, wanting them to stop or you might break down in front of them. You thought after joining at your friend's restaurant that you won't ever come across your past life but who knew after two years here, you would be facing them again.

Licking your lips, you pushed Wooyoung off from you and eyed him before turning to them, "but you all became used to ignoring me then why suddenly you all are acting like this."

"No it's not like that."

"Really Mingi? Are you sure you're not the person who blamed me that for me all your hard work will be gone."

The chatters around the place increased with the entry of some more customers. Little did you know, your friend noticed the current situation you were in and she told other workers to take your place and not mind anything at the end table.

Jongho glared at Mingi but still he also knew that the news got them all shattered because it was their first accusation after the debut and they knew very well the cause of any controversy regarding a group. They all feared for their dreams to be crashing down.

But they were also worried for you. They all asked you about it but you're not the outspoken type and you remained silent and refused to talk to anyone. You distanced yourself from them when they hinted their anger towards you and it really scared you.

and that girl Minnie really played her wicked games with them at their weakest moment. "I'm sorry. Please forgive us for not being there for you. We-"

"Jongho, there's nothing to forgive or forget. I had some great memories with you all and I loved every moment but for me I don't want someone's dreams to end."

You weakly smiled at them.

"But what about you? How are you?" Seonghwa asked you while he approached you and held your hands in his, he caressed the soft skin and stared down.

"Honestly, I don't even know about myself. I'm totally living a different life. People don't recognize me after dying my hair and not wearing makeup and I don't come out often to serve the customers but unfortunately today I did and...."

"And what about the......drugs?"

"Joong-"

"It's okay Hwa. He is just obeying his rules being a leader." You bit your lip when retreating the hand from the hold, "those boxes in my bag were not drugs. Those were my anxiety pills. I used label-less boxes so that people won't know about my problems but that only led to some bigger problems."

Yunho stepped forward, "you had anxiety?" You nodded.

"What caused you this? I swear y/n tell me what happened to have this happen?" He was furious and you watched his impatient hand brushed his hair back.

"Yunho.....it's you guys. You all did this to me." After voicing out the words, you stared at them blankly.

"Us?" Yeosang asked you but also to himself.

"The ignorance. The blames and accusations adding up to the online comments on my posts were stressing me out and I had a consultation with my family psychiatrist." You sighed at the end of the sentence.

San suddenly asked you, "what about your dreams, y/n? You shared so many things with me with us. You planned a whole future with us. What about that?"

"I really wanted to spend my whole life with you all. To create so many memories together but I think those will just remain as dreams because of the rumors. Even if I want to get back. I won't because it would hamper your future and dream."

"But who spread the rumors on drugs?" Hongjoong sat down and held his head.

"It's-... it's..." you bit your lips and proceeded, "it's nothing. You don't have to worry about it now. I'm out of this whole thing and you are all free from all controversial posts."

You tried to smile but the tears falling from your eyes betrayed you.

"You are not coming back to us?" Yunho held your hand, he held it so dearly as if you were a delicate person. He didn't want to let it go but still somewhere in your eyes he saw the distance between you both.

There was no sign of love from you.

"No."

Jongho came in front of your view, "but please we need you. It's no more the same feelings without you. There's really a missing piece in our life." He gulped the lump of sadness and continued, "and, It's you, y/n."

"No you are a perfect team even without me. Eight makes a perfect team like you." You looked over all of them.

"And nine makes the perfect family." Seonghwa said in a hushed voice.

You shook your head, "then work on your teamwork and make it a family. I hope you will find a better girl for yourselves."

Wooyoung pushed aside Seonghwa and cupped your cheek and Hongjoong just stood behind him, watching you keenly.

"Please, y/n don't do this to me. I got to see you after two years and...and just for you to say leave me again?"

"Woo, people might be watching."

"I don't care."

"But I care. I have to work unlike you who will go back to your country after the tour ends. I have to stay back here and face these customers again and if somehow this scene got to the media then it'll be a new situation to handle. Please, I beg you. I don't want to be in a similar situation again."

You inhaled and continued, "and this time it won't be because of me but because of you. So stop before anything happens again."

" but you can stay with us. We can move out from the dorm and stay somewhere else. Also, you don't have to be with us for the sake of being a group member but as our girlfriend." Hongjoong said the words very precisely but you just laughed at him.

"You have lost the right to call me that way before. Don't say that word again. I hate it. I don't want to stay with any of you."

"But-"

"The food is getting cold. They worked hard in preparing this."

San held your hand when you stepped back, "At Least eat with us. Last time, you didn't even eat properly with us."

"Y/n, I miss you a lot." Yeosang looked at you with a longing feeling but you just ignored it.

I miss you all too...

And I know I shouldn't...

You took deep breaths, "I'm telling this to all of you. And it's my final wish to you so please kindly keep it. Just forget about me. You all have a long way to go to achieve success. Don't get stuck in the past. Pretend I never met you all. I was never a part of your life."

San gripped your wrist tighter.

Hongjoong said in a low voice, "this is impossible for us to do. How can we forget you? How can we forget all the memories of us?"

You stared at the grip and glanced at his face. He had changed a lot in these two years and the maturity in his voice and demeanor was visible.

He stared at you helplessly and waited for your response. You removed the grip and turned around.

"Enjoy the meal!"

How can they just eat now? They all have lost their appetite after this and the way you didn't even turn back to them for the last time left them staring at your direction until you disappeared behind the door beside the desk.

You entered the door and tears slid down your cheek and whispered to yourself, "pretend I was just a missing piece of your dream."

[I just realized that I don't know how to write 9th member aus like what did I write here. It could have been better but still I tried so appreciate me🥹]

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @meowmeeps @vtyb23 @haechansbbg

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yuri-is-online · 3 months

Note

"The moon is beautiful tonight" bro if someone said that to me I'd choke 💀. So here's a request ig. Octavinnle and scarabia saying this phrase in casual conversation causes like. it doesn't mean anything in twst, but yuu doesnt know that. So yuu just looks at them like

And suddenly they're being a hell of a lot more affectionate towards them specifically, which is really starting to fuck with their emotion at this point. Cause like. "I've thought of what we'd act like as a married couple a million times and you are acting exactly like that"

So now like, idk, 2 months later or something, the boys basically do a "reject me so I can move on. Or not, please not, actually"

And yuus like? We've been together for 2 months now? I thought we were taking it slow but not this slow??

He doesn't even fully remember what he said, or the context that brought it up. If someone were to offer him all the world's wealth and power he wouldn't be able to tell them what brought about this change.

If he did he might find it ironic that in your world there was a place and time where "I love you" could be translated into "the moon looks beautiful tonight." For what else could he have been trying to say?

I LOVE THIS TROPE I LOVE IT SO SO MUCH. UNREQUITED REQUITED ACCIDENTAL LOVE CONFESSION MY BELOVED. Anyway yeah sure I can do this easy. Also can someone tell me what "ig" means I am an elderly woman ☆ヽ(o_ _)o notes: they/them used for Yuu, angst with the intent of comfort, not all of them follow the flow of the prompt exactly sorry, idk if I like this one? I'm so sorry it took so long I loved this prompt but for some reason when I sat down to write it my brain fried. More fic can be found on my masterlist here.

Azul

What He Says:

You can't actually see the moon from Octavinelle, so how the conversation topic got around to it is quite lost on you. "You just don't really seem like an astrology h- person to me?" It is all you can do to bite back a different description as you try to pretend your focus is on the silverware you are rolling and not the ever so slightly disheveled octomer across the office. You treasure these times, though you have to wonder just how intentional they are. Azul always has an aura of manufactured perfection around him, so to see him with ink stained hands and a crooked tie... you wish you were quick enough to get a picture with something other than your mind's eye.

"I could say the same about you," he smiles as he speaks in a way you want to believe is affectionate "though I suppose it shouldn't, every planet large enough to host life will have a moon." Your fingers fidget with the napkins as you wonder where to take this talk, talking with Azul is a lot like a dance at a masquerade you haven't been invited to. One small slip and he has you at his mercy.

"I was surprised your moon looks so similar to mine." You try. "It was very comforting to know it still represents my deepest, truest self."

"Then it must look beautiful tonight." Azul says softly, as if he is more testing the words in his mind than he is saying them. But still you startle and drop the silverware and make him jump.

"I'm sorry?" You stumble over yourself to pick it up and see a worried Azul standing in front of you.

"I said the moon must look beautiful tonight." He says as he bends to help, so casually that he has to call out to you again to make you realize this isn't a dream.

"It is." You pull yourself up and stand closer to him than you have ever previously dared.

When He Breaks (Two Months Later):

Ramshackle Prefect: Morning Azul ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Azul stares at his phone as if he is unused to the words on his screen. His thumb hovers over the heart as if he could reach out and touch what sits on the other side and know.

You: Morning, a bit early for you isn't it?

Not that he is upset exactly, this is a lovely thing to wake up to. But it's torture, pure torture to lack the context for any of this. When you started messaging him in the morning he had been too pleased to think critically. His mind conjures up images of how sweet you could sound when half asleep, what it would be like to hear that wish from you every morning out loud instead of on a screen. He shakes his head trying to blink back the tears as he rises, these thoughts are like one of those mirages he'd heard Jamil describe before. If he looked too hard it would disappear and leave him with nothing but sand, and there is nothing a merfolk fears more than the absence of water.

Ramshackle Prefect: (｡•̀ᴗ-) Ramshackle Prefect: hehe im goin back to sleep now. Ramshackle Prefect: dont overwork urself. it's supposed to be the weekend!!!

"Supposed to be the weekend" he wants to die. His heart hammers away at his chest as reads and re-reads his messages searching for a sign of how or why he is getting these messages. It's a thankless task, he's done this every day for... it feels like years but he knows from his carefully kept notes it's only been two months one week and three days. And he does mean notes, so what if he's taken to keeping Yuu's file in his night stand it's still kept in a file which means it isn't a diary. Not that it would be a problem if he did-

Ramshackle Prefect: oh before I forget is it ok if I stop by the lounge later? I tried making a pudding and want to know if it tastes good Ramshackle Prefect: y'know to people who don't eat literal dirt

-so no he wasn't keeping a diary but maybe Jade is on to something and he should really start because he hears those are good for managing stress.

~~~~

"Not that I am unimpressed with your efforts," is what Azul says out loud with a great deal of effort "but is it just me or have you been trying to cook a lot more lately?" It had started with little sandwiches and maybe a salad on days he was still at work late into the night, dropped off with the claim that Yuu was worried he wasn't taking care of himself but they never actually stayed to watch him eat it. This was new, as if they were testing the waters of something from their position on his couch, face still puffy with sleep as they settle themselves deep into its puffy cushions and watch him at his desk. Maybe they were concerned he would not want a desert and intended to stay and make sure he didn't throw it out. That had to be it, but then why visit dressed so casually? He can count on one hand the times he has seen Yuu out of an NRC uniform, and none of those allowed him a glimpse of their actual preferences in clothing.

It's like they've forgotten who they are dealing with.

"Well yeah, it's a good skill to have." Yuu looks at him with a genuine unguarded smile. "Besides it's fun to get your opinions on my food, I don't always understand how you come up with them but I feel like it helps."

"My I didn't realize you held my advice in such high esteem." He feels much more like himself now with this information. Of course Yuu has been messaging him more, they need him for something. It might sting, but it's safe. Logical. Something he can work with. "Maybe I'll just have to start charging you, can't have you taking my secrets and stealing away my customers, can I."

But for some reason this just makes you laugh. "No need to worry about that, I only really cook for you. And Grim I guess but like I said, he literally eats dirt. I mean just the other day-

"What did you say?" Azul's voice sounds strained.

"About Grim eating dirt?" You say, and Azul finally for someone so smart and so proud on his ability to read people thinks that he might have made a mistake. "He says he's making a tier list."

"Why are you so painfully human?" His smile is strange, you can't say you have ever seen him like this before, it's a strange mix of happiness and resignation. "Your heart is so- prefect do you trust me?"

"Yes." You answer, seemingly confused as if your answer to that question shouldn't have been something he doubted.

"Would you trust me with your life? Your secrets?" He makes his way out from behind his desk to stand above you, to look down at you and confirm that for some damnable reason you are still calm. "Would you trust me with your life?"

"...only if you wanted it." Finally he sees a trace of fluster in you, finally you feel as nervous around him as he does around you constantly. He places a finger under your chin and forces you to look at him.

"Then tell me how you feel about me truthfully. Because everything you have said and done up to this point has been driving me crazy into thinking I have a chance." You blink. Once. Twice. And then a look of pure confusion distorts your perfect face.

"You- you don't know? But I thought- I mean you said-" And then suddenly Yuu has managed to jump out from the couch and the intensity of the moment stutters closer to comedy as Azul watches you curl under his desk like it's an octopot. "You said the moon was beautiful."

It's Azul's turn to blink. Once. Twice. He feels like he should be holding back tears, or disappointed in some way but- "I did say that... but what does that have to do with, anything?" You don't move and Azul considers his options, and decides to walk slowly to his desk and pick up the pudding before settling himself just out of sight from where you are hiding. And he waits, he waits for you to speak like his hands aren't clammy and he is not worried at all about what you might have to say.

"In my world when you say that it means something." You sound so small and alone, but still he waits. "I was really happy to hear you say it, but I didn't think... no I just didn't think. I'm so so so sorry."

"What did you think I said?" His mind is racing with the possibilities, but he has an idea because really what else could he have said that would explain all of this behavior?

"I don't wanna say it. It's embarrassing." You sound close to tears and Azul can't have that now can he? He crouches down to look at you curled under his desk and thinks that Floyd must have been wrong when he called you a shrimp, how could you be anything other than another octopus, waiting for someone who understood them too?

"As embarrassing as saying it again?" He doesn't wait for you to reply. "The moon looks beautiful tonight." He watches your breath hitch in delight as he fully invades your space and whispers what it looks like he should have just said all along. "I love you."

And gets to hear the one thing he has wanted most. "I love you too."

Jade

What He Says:

"And that is the Hero constellation." Jade makes sure to keep his hand as close to you as plausible, resting the back of it against yours as he uses his pencil to point at the star chart you are examining to avoid having to move it away from your addictive warmth. He delights in the way you try to suppress your shudders yet make no move to shake him off, what a dangerous game it is you have decided to play tonight. "Named after the Hero who dove into the underworld to fetch back his beloved from death itself."

"It looks familiar." You swallow and try to focus on the stars, Jade had been kind enough to offer you some "opinions" (because help would cost you and he has no intention to charge yet) when he saw you struggling to read your astrology homework. "But I don't think it was as important to astrology back in my world..."

"Oya? Your world also values the guidance of the stars?" Jade is always hard to read, but even more so in the dark. Something to do with his natural habitat you suppose, not that you are excited about the potential he sees you as some sort of prey. Not that you couldn't be if you knew just what sort.

"Well yeah sometimes. But I think it has more to do with the zodiac constellations and the position of the planets." You smile and hope this little bit of information is enough for Jade to take as payment instead of a favor but he simply hums.

"Yes I do seem to recall you saying something like that." He says with a smile and you desperately wrack your brain for how he could know that when you know damn well it wasn't to him.

You were only sort of right, he had been there, just out of sight listening intently as you described the differences in the mythological origins of the various signs and their importance in match making.

"Only in some cultures Ace!"

But you had made no mention of whether or not that culture was yours, which was all Jade really cared about. Not that he placed much interest or faith in the stars but if you did that was important data. But no matter how carefully he tried to poke the only thing you ever seemed to really like talking about was the moon. "The moon looks beautiful tonight." Jade says, bitterly, head full with ideas that he wants to give but cannot without overplaying his hand. And yet-

"Do you mean that?" He turns his head abruptly, blinking in confusion down at your flustered self. Jade knows right away that he has said something without meaning to, your reaction screams it but just this once- no he is always selfish when it comes to you. So in keeping with his habits, he drops the pencil and folds his hand around yours properly.

"Every word." It is all he can do to keep his teeth from showing as he watches you fold into him. Normally when Jade offers to walk you home you make up an excuse or outright decline, but when he offers tonight you are happy to accept. You even let him help you pick up your things and when he decides to push his luck and ask for your hand-

You let him take it. His brain is fried, the only thing he can think of and feel is the texture of your skin and the weight of your fingers intertwined with his. Neither of you speak on the way back to Ramshackle, Jade barely hears himself whispering you a goodnight as he swears you stare at his lips in the same way he always dreams of yours.

His mind works overtime as he walks back to his dorm, thinking and re-thinking his words and wondering if he has reached the right conclusion. Data, he needs more data on this change. You have let him get close to what he wants in moments of weakness before, but you have never let him touch and as much as he wants to throw himself into you and be consumed with his assumptions...

When He Breaks (3 months later):

He is long past collecting data at this point, he is just being a coward. Jade is fairly certain that Yuu is courting him... but that pesky doubt keeps creeping back in the longer he looks at them. Not that Jade is unfamiliar with doubting himself, or waiting to strike but you...

"Are you alright, Jade?" You're laid across his lap without a care in the world watching that damn moon again, completely unaware of him unraveling beneath you. "You've been spacing out a lot lately."

"I've just had a lot on my mind~" He caresses the side of your face and you let him, you even whine a bit when he retracts it and speed up his heart rate just enough to make him hyper conscious of his breaths. "Can I ask you something?"

"Technically you already have." You squirm to try and dodge his flick but don't seem too fussed by it. "But sure, what's bothering you?"

"Do you hate me?"

"What?" Oh that look of shock on your face is precious he hasn't seen it in a while. Slowly, giving you just enough space to run if you want Jade bends towards you, smiling wide and tootful as he repeats the question.

"I was wondering if you hate me dear Prefect. Because you see," he sniffles and tries to pretend he doesn't hear you groan in exasperation "our relationship these past few months has been nothing but pure torture for my poor self."

"Oh has it now." You don't sound like you believe him how tragic. "I didn't realize I was such bad company."

"Oh the worst sort." He whimpers. "The sort of company that takes advantage of the thin lines between you and does all sort of things to your poor heart."

"... thin lines?" Finally. FINNALY. You sound just as worried as he's been these past three months. He ceases his blubbering and looks at your embarrassed face properly. It's adorable, he'll have to ask for your forgiveness later for his lengthy pause admiring it later.

"Please be truthful." He whispers just a tad lower than is necessary. "And be gentle with me in your rejections so I can move on if I must but first-"

"We're not dating?!?!?" How rude you don't let him finish before you interrupt and try to run away. His long arms interrupt your retreat, pulling you down with peels of laughter (from him it's clear you don't find this funny) as he rolls you onto the grass, pinned directly beneath him. You look good like this, eyes focused entirely on him and no longer pining after the moon.

"There seems to have been a misunderstanding." He says and you try your best to glare threateningly up at him. "I can't quite remember anything I might have done to make you think we were together. Was it something I said?"

"You said... I'm so stupid."

"I don't seem to recall ever having said that outloud." You try to knee him in the groin but he pins your leg down with his own, such useful things though a tail would have made this entire confrontation much more efficient.

"Of course it doesn't mean the same thing. This is a different world." You look genuinely distraught, and though Jade doesn't regret his teasing one bit he doesn't want to keep you in suspense much longer. So he bends his face directly next to your ear and whispers.

"The moon looks beautiful tonight." Your breath hitches and Jade rolls to his side, pulling you up onto his chest before you can go back to being angry at him. "You're right, it doesn't mean whatever you think it should here. After all if I wanted to say how I feel about you I wouldn't use a metaphor."

"And just what would you say about me?" You sound so impossibly small, just as in need of reassurance as he had been just mere moments ago.

"I would say that I love you, of course." It's hard to say out loud, but worth the reward of your warmth settling into him once more, with clarity this time and no need for cowardice.

Floyd

What He Says:

Floyd has been in a strange mood lately, not quite bad, not quite good, and yet somehow very clearly not somewhere in between either. Reflective is the word you would choose yourself, but no one is really asking your opinion they just want you to fix it.

Not that you have any real clue how you are going to do that, you will be the first to admit you didn't have much of a plan when you asked if Floyd wanted to climb up to Ramshackle's roof and shoot the breeze. Not that you are really complaining it had been funny watching him try to figure out the climb.

"I though you were supposed to be good at this." You laugh from your perch waving a bag of flavored potato chips in encouragement as Floyd snorts just below you.

"I'm real good at parkour, just haven't really climbed trees before. I ain't a monkey fish." Still he manages to hoist himself up just fine and plop himself next to you with a thud that reminds you of just how much weight there is to him. He's tall and lean, his figure seems to go on forever as he stretches himself out next to you, eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a breath and holds out a hand for a chip.

You stuff it into his mouth and try not to laugh too hard when he chokes. He spits some of the chip shards back at you and tries not to smile too wide when you sputter and whine about how gross he is for spitting on you.

"Ya do this a lot back home?" It's not the first time Floyd has asked about your world, but it is certainly the most random.

"We've got stars in my world too." You snort, trying to think about just how you are going to turn this conversation around into something more cheerful. "But nah, pretty sure someone would have called the cops if they caught me on the roof at 2 am." Floyd rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his arm to really look at you as you look through your grocery bag of loot deciding which of the drinks you brought up you want to drink.

"I meant invite people to hang out real late." You stop your search to look down at him and find your words caught somewhere between your heart and your throat. Not like this. You want to say. Not for this reason. But instead you shrug and try to offer a bottle he doesn't take. You aren't avoiding the question tonight. "Ya gotta have done something for fun, right?"

"Sometimes I'd walk around a store or something." It's weird explaining stuff to a merman, sometimes they get what you're trying to say but other times they come back with "so it's like that time Jade and I got caught chasing a dolphin around the school playground and got yelled at for tying him up in seaweed" and you just have to smile and say "yeah totally" because what the hell. You're pretty sure it's not but you lack all sorts of context to try and make him understand. "Or we'd sneak out and just drive around and talk about stuff. There's- not a bunch of exciting things I know how to do I guess." If this was a normal night Floyd would roll his eyes and lie back down, whine about that's why you always make him do all the work because shrimpies have shit for brains and his plans are always so much better.

But he doesn't. He reaches over and tugs on your leg, gently enough that you can run away if you want but clear in his desire to have you closer. So you move, expecting his hand to drop but it doesn't, not until he settles his head in your lap and he physically can't keep it there anymore.

"Ya ever talk about things that matter with those guppies?" Maybe he's homesick and that's why he's so focused on this. "Things that make ya miss them?" Maybe he's just projecting that onto you since he knows you will listen and be nice about it. But then his hand reaches up and turns your head so you can look him in his eyes. They're glowing, you barely realize your own hand going to cup Floyd's cheek before he moves his other to keep it from going. "You ever miss one of em in particular?"

"Not really." How could you when Floyd looks like this? "It'd be nice to see my friends again, sure, but it's not like there's one specific person I miss." Floyd lets out a breath that it sounds like he has been keeping in for a long, long time. His hands both fall to his side as he lets you look away in embarrassment, wiggling in slight happiness when you choose to rest your hands on his shoulders.

"The moon looks beautiful tonight." Floyd's voice sounds sleepy and oddly content. Your eyes immediately snap back to him, but he isn't looking at you now. There is a a slight red tinge to his ears that makes you laugh quietly as you run a finger over the shell of one. So that's what this is about.

"It's always beautiful with you around Floyd." And finally he is looking at you with a smile.

When He Breaks (2 weeks later):

When you gave Floyd a guest key to Ramshackle he'd been extremely happy. Sure he'd acted like it was no big deal in front of you, beyond a few teasing comments about how buttering him up wouldn't get you anywhere unless you put it in writing. But back at his dorm he had been beyond insufferable, obsessing over just what color thread he should attach to it (purple for the sea witch, teal for the eel, or grey for ramshackle? decisions decisions), wanting to keep it close at all times until he had an excuse to replace it with you.

Because that's what he needed right? An excuse? Floyd wasn't exactly... shy in showering you with his affections but you. You. Until that stupid conversation on the roof a month ago you had always been sort of shy about it, if not outright dismissive. He assumed it was because you just didn't reciprocate but now...

"Floyd?" You can't really remember the last time he knocked, even before you gave him the key he sort of just let himself in. But today he knocked, only once and waited for you to open the door in eerie silence. Even when Floyd was coming over because he was bored he still managed to drag himself through the door or a window if he was so inclined.

So why not today?

"Not having a good day?" You try softly, he walks into your lounge with an eerie quiet about him. The last time you saw him something very nice happened, so you can't exactly say you are too worried but. It still sucks to see someone you care about in distress.

"Kinda." Floyd doesn't look like he had much of a plan now that he's in your dorm. "Had a lot on my mind is all."

"Aw that's no fun." You both stand doing nothing for what feels like an hour but you're sure is only a few seconds. "Do you uh want to talk about it?"

"..." And just like that Floyd feels really silly. He wanted to see you so that's why he came, but he wants to be as far away from these painful feelings as possible. "I kind of want to take a nap."

"Oh?" You don't sound surprised, but are clearly confused. Floyd begins to head towards the guest room without looking back. The guest room feels like you just enough that it can soothe his longing and distance himself from his internal conflict. "Would you like to use my room?" Or he could just not be allowed to distance himself at all because you could just say- "I've got some stuff to do but I can join you af-"

"Are you fucking serious." Floyd's voice is dangerously low and he is dangerously close to your face like you have said something wrong. "Look Shrimpy-" He swallows, like he's really considering what it is he has to say so he breathes and just goes for it "Yuu. You're killin me with this. Humans are already so fucking confusing. I give ya a shell and you get all cold for a week, and now, now you wanna sleep with me?" He pouts at you, like your suggestion had been scandalous. "'s like you think we're together or something."

"... we're not?" That's the only thing you can think to say even though the fact you have to say it answers the question for you.

"No?" Now Floyd sounds confused. "Ya- you can't do this to meeeeeeee." Despite his protests he seems just fine with grabbing onto you and dragging you into an embrace and resting his cheek on your head so you can't see his face anymore. "There's supposed to be a process to these things ya know? I'm supposed to give you gifts, and then you're supposed to give me some back and then I tell you I love you but every time I tried that I said something stupid instead. Like 'oh wow the moon looks beautiful tonight or some shit." He huffs and he puffs and he waits for you to say something. But you don't, you take a deep breath.

And laugh.

"Is this fucking funny to you?" Floyd is taken so a back he lets go of you only to find you laughing harder. You stand and reach to cup his face. Floyd doesn't like being squeezed, but there's something about the light squish you give to his cheeks that he likes, he likes a lot.

"No- well maybe a little bit. It's just, I knew. I knew what you were trying to say." Yuu says it like it is the most obvious thing in the world, like it's something Floyd should have known all along. "I owe you an apology, I should have asked, made sure you knew. In my world, it's sometimes considered too forward to say 'I love you' so instead..." You close the distance between you once more, leaving just enough room that Floyd can back away from you if he wants, "instead we say 'the moon looks beautiful tonight.'" Floyd takes in a deep, deep breath and you wait. The anger and frustration slowly fades as he exhales, shoulders sagging as he searches your face for signs.

"The moon looks beautiful tonight." He says it slowly, voice dipping low with the same strange gravity it had the first time he said it.

"It does, doesn't it?" You smile, and Floyd finally reaches for you, arms wrapped much more loosely than you ever thought possible.

"You're really mean sometimes ya know that." As if he doesn't find that attractive.

Kalim

What He Says:

Sometimes you worry about Kalim. He has this way of talking about things that, if it had been anyone else who said it, should be a major cause for concern. But because Kalim seems relatively happy most all of the time and has a family with a bunch of money no one really makes much of a fuss about it.

So when he says, off handedly, completely as a joke, that you should listen to his worries sometimes you don't give him a chance to play it off. You sit up from where you had been lying down in the Scarabia Lounge and move just a bit closer to where Kalim is relaxing so he can see how serious you are.

"Of course you can talk to me if you have worries." Your voice must have been abnormally serious because Kalim doesn't respond immediately. At first you wonder if the noise of the party behind you had somehow drowned out what you said but then you see Kalim's face. He looks conflicted, as if there is something he desperately wants to say, but instead he looks at you with a smile.

"I don't really have any." But he doesn't laugh when he says it, not that he sounds unhappy exactly just thoughtful. He doesn't move away from you either.

"Even if it's something you think might be silly," you say slowly forcing yourself to continue even as Kalim looks away "of if you're able to dismiss them. If something makes you sad for even a moment, you can tell me. I won't offer my opinion if that's not something you want, or won't help, I can still listen."

"You're really insistent about this huh?" Kalim sits up now too and you turn to look up at the stars decorating Scarabia's night sky. You wonder briefly about how exactly they might have gotten that to work when he says it. "The moon is beautiful tonight." He sounds so wistful but it's gone in a blink as he reaches for your hand and doesn't let you respond to his admission. "C'mon! Let's take the magic carpet and get a better look." You try to contain your excitement as he lets you lace your fingers together and doesn't even try to let go.

What He Breaks (1 week later):

Technically, Kalim isn't the one who breaks. He notices, of course he notices, the way you are more comfortable in seeking him out. How comfortable you now are with his casual touches, how willing you are to hold his hand and even give it a little squeeze. It's heaven, like he found the treasure cave the Sorcerer of the Sands had searched so long for. If it was up to him he would have let it go a little longer.

But it isn't exactly up to him, it never is. Not that Jamil looks angry exactly, but then again as Kalim has come to accept he's not the best at reading his moods.

"I thought you said you weren't going to ask Yuu out?" No Jamil sounds confused and Kalim fidgets with his bracelet under his questioning stare because he knows what he's about to say will probably actually make him mad.

"I didn't." Jamil takes a deep breath and Kalim immediately waves his hands to try and soothe him. "Promise! I remember everything you said about wanting to know and I agree it's just... are you sure you aren't misreading things? That Yuu isn't just... comfortable around me now?"

"... it's always a possibility given just how weird the prefect can be, but no. I'm pretty sure you must have said something that's given them the wrong impression." Jamil sighs and rubs his chin thoughtfully. "It's going to be awkward, but you should probably clear things up with them and tell them how you really feel."

"You mean tell them I'm not allowed to-"

"Like I said before," Jamil actually smiles now, and Kalim really hopes it's real "it's not my place to tell you who you can and cannot date. Sure your parents might have an idea about what they want you to do, but you and I know that a political marrige would never really work for you. It's just not how you're built." And with that he leaves Kalim to his thoughts.

~~~~

"Have you ever considered throwing smaller parties?"

"Haha this is a smaller party~ I only invited you and your freshmen friends." So Kalim says and so you see, but you suppose everything Kalim does comes from a rather skewed sense of small. It's nice to look out on though, Ace is amusing one of your other classmates with his card tricks while Jack and Deuce take turns at arm wrestling. Epel even manged to get Sebek to participate in something, though he might have regretted making it an eating contest. And above it all, tucked away in a little alcove, Kalim rests his head on your shoulder and hums along with the music playing through his dormitory loudspeakers. It feels domestic in a way despite the grandiose display around you.

"It's very nice Kalim." You lean your head on top of his and he sighs in contentment. "But you said there was a worry you wanted to tell me about?"

"Mhm. I'm worried I said something accidentally that made you realize that I liked you." If he wasn't holding you so intimately his words would have been like ice water over your self confidence. You still cringe and Kalim laughs slightly, happily holding you just a bit closer. "Hey I didn't say that I don't like you, I just want to make sure you understand what that means. I could put you in a lot of danger you know?"

"More than half a dozen overblots?" You lightly joke but Kalim just hugs you a little harder at the thought. "We'll cross those bridges when we come to them, it doesn't make me love you any less. After all," you press a gentle kiss to his forehead and smile as he shakes in happiness "the moon looks beautiful tonight." Kalim gives a little gasp.

"Oh that's a wonderful way to say it!"

Jamil

What He Says:

"I get that your world is a bit behind ours because it doesn't have magic, but really?" Jamil's voice lacks the usual venom that would accompany his teasing if he hadn't been the one to propose this idea. "Wanting to make a mix tape has got to make you practically per-historic." You try to suppress your own smile as you watch him work from across the floor.

"I prefer vintage." Your smile breaks free as Jamil finally laughs, you wonder if he knows just how beautiful he is as he swipes a misbehaving hair out of his eyes and gives his stereo another once over. "I'll have you know making mixtapes have a long and storied tradition in my world." You keep some of the possible implications to yourself, and try to pretend the concept hasn't been swirling around in you brain since he first suggested this. "Why aren't you using magic to clean it?"

"Because I get to keep you here longer." The words dance on the tip of his tongue and he forces them away with a smile.

"It's old, and I don't really want to go searching for a new one if I break something." The lie has just enough of a trace of truth to fool you, but Jamil isn't one for taking chances. "Aren't you supposed to be looking for stuff you like? You won't get that by staring at me."

"Not like I'm going to find anything till your done cleaning." You snort and finally take your distracting eyes away from him and direct them to his tapes. "I don't know any of this stuff." But you can still tell this collection is pretty impressive. Some of the tapes look newer, but there are others that while well cared for are clearly old. Album art featuring sandy landscapes and people posing is sandwiched between vaporwave cartoons and aesthetically confusing 3-d models. This belongs to Jamil so you have a feeling it's organized, but you can't tell how. Not that he leaves you wondering for long lightly taps your nose with a new cotton swab and nudges your pouting face towards a specific section of the box.

"Here, I set some aside based off the kind of music you said you liked." And some that just reminded him of you, but that's nothing you need to know, yet if ever. "Anything else you can think of?"

"Do you have any songs about the moon?" The question pops out of your mouth before the thought that birthed it is fully formed, making you stumble over your explanations. "Yeah go ahead and laugh there's just... this one song I miss." It makes you think of him, from the few words you can remember. You've written it down again and again to try and make sure you don't forget them, but the tune has begun escaping you; much like all your memories of home will one day be fragmented, not that the reality makes it hurt any less. "I'm worried I'll forget what my moon looks like." Jamil's amused confusion remains, but his eyes soften in response to your distress.

"Is there a specific reason you need the song? Yo- The moon is beautiful tonight, do you need the exact song to see it?" Jami

"N-no." Your voice shakes. Neither of you move to look away, what gives you the strength to move yourself to sit next to him you don't know. But he doesn't move away and you let out a deep breath from sheer and relief and joy. "I think I'll be able to see it just fine next to you."

What He Breaks (two months later):

Things have been going missing from Jamil's room lately. Nothing he actually needs really, the sort of little things you would take if you were really desperate to remember the feel of a person. The sort of things you would take if you were dating that person, which isn't at all the thought he would have had if he didn't know who was taking them. Not that Jamil could come up with a reason for Yuu to be taking these things, his first thought had been to take something of Yuu's the next time he visited Ramshackle, but that seemed to make you happy. "Fair game" he'd thought. "I want an excuse to see you and you want an excuse to see me."

Still he wasn't prepared for this.

"Jamil!" there is something refreshing about how calm your happiness is. You've always had a way of extending that calm to him, wrapping him in it and allowing him some space to breathe. But today, today. Today the Ramshackle Prefect has decided that he wasn't allowed peace, because yesterday they had stolen his sweatshirt, and today they have decided to wear it. "Everything ok?

"ha." Jamil wants to tug the hood of his dorm uniform over his head. He wants to run, he wants to shake you, he wants to scream. He wants to do a three act play complete with an interpretive dance because that would be easier than trying to speak. But he has to, because there's only so many deep breaths he can take before you reach out to make sure he's ok. So he takes your hand in his as you do and places it directly over his heart. "You know," for some reason he finds it easier to smile now that you know how nervous he is "you can't have taken that without knowing what people might say."

"Oh I don't know." You smile and bring yourself into his space, that strange calm he finds in your happiness begins to weave itself around him again. "Maybe I wanted to clear some things up. Make it good and clear where I belong." Jamil takes another deep breath, your arms go around him and he makes sure to look long and good into your eyes to make sure there isn't a shred of a crimson glow. That this is something you have decided of your own free will and not a dream or an accident involving magic.

"I never properly asked you out..." Technically he never asked you out at all, but Jamil would rather die than say that out loud. Maybe sometime long long in the future when he's ready to laugh at it and not now when he needs you to confirm that's what you thought he did in the first place.

"Oh! That's not-" You bury your face in his chest with a light laugh and he tries not to die in the time between the seconds until you respond. "I was so happy to hear you say the moon line it didn't really occur to me you might be worried about that."

"Who wouldn't?" Not that he's worried now, every other possibility has been ruled out so he can say exactly what he's been wanting to for so long. "Will you be mine?"

"I already was." It sounds so much better outloud than he could have ever dreamed.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #“Or not please not actually” did something to my brain #such a nice way of phrasing that ur mind

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joonsytip · 3 months

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Say Don't Go || Wonwoo

Synopsis: You say you love him but Wonwoo says nothing back.

Word Count: 0.7k

A/N: Just one of my self indulging thoughts.

Sequels : So It Goes | All Too Well

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

"I like you, a lot. I have had feelings for you since the university days. Been quite a few years."

Silence looms upon the atmosphere. There's a very neutral expression on Wonwoo's face, he isn't surprised.

Your grip on the clutch tightens, "Seems like you already know and you're not gonna say anything now?"

Wonwoo stares at you unwavering. He asks, "What do you expect me to say? That I like you as well?"

"Don't you?", you step forward, closing the gap between you two, "Tell me I read the signs wrong."

There's a slight change in his demeanor, his eyes flash something you should never witness so he looks down in the pretense of fixing the tie.

"Your family consists of conglomerates including yourself. I'm just a secretary who works for Seungcheol. Both him and his wife are your friends. You all belong to the same circle, I don't.", Wonwoo painfully narrates.

"It doesn't matter, as long as you reciprocate my feelings.", your voice falters, "Please think through."

"Easy for you to say. Do you even know how hard it is for people like me who aren't born rich? People already think I'm leaching off Seungcheol and if we get together there's no end to it. I'm used to it but you won't be able to take it even for a day because you're sensitive."

"If you know that I'm sensitive then why are you hurting me now?"

"It's better to get hurt now then to regret it later. You're not a teenager anymore, stop acting like one.", his words cut sharp at you.

"If all that matters to you then what about my feelings? It seems that they're the only ones those doesn't matter.", you wipe the tears streaming down your face, "Do you even know how hard it was for me to muster up the courage to be here. I am so used to liking you in silence that it made me back out every time I thought of confessing to you."

There's nothing Wonwoo wants but to run to you, engulfing you in his embrace. He wants to kiss away your tears, he wants to murmur sweet nothings in your ears.

He has always been wary of his financial background, more because he only has a brother who's sick and hospitalized. He's scared because he's seen the conspiracy Seungcheol's father plotted against his wife making them part ways back then even though she herself is a heiress. He has seen his friends suffering to no extent. To him rich people are selfish and wicked.

He couldn't afford to hurt you, doesn't want to fall prey to the rich and influential when there's already a lot on his plate. So he resorts to holding himself back, like he always has.

"Don't you like me? I know you do..."

Wonwoo exhales heavily, "No, I don't like you. Sorry if I have ever given you mixed signals but that was never my intention."

"Don't do this please because I'm serious, I might be in love with you--"

"You should leave.", he speaks not looking in your eyes, "There's no point having a baseless conversation."

"Are you sure? Because I'd stay forever if you say don't go."

"Just go Y/N. And please don't do this ever again. It was very uncomfortable for me."

You sniffle and nod your head understanding, "I'm sorry, just forget that this ever happened."

Just as you turn and make way to head out, all the memories flashes. The butterflies in his stomach when you both had teamed up for a fest event in university. When you smiled so bright at him always making his heart flutter. When at every party he searched for you because you're the reason he attended those in first place . When your drunk self bravely clung on his arm pulling him close and leaning on his shoulder at the seashore in comfortable silence while others drenched themselves in the waters at a spontaneous trip. You're his serotonin boast, you're his paradise in gloom. But he would never say the truth, never say out loud that it's not only you but he might love you as well.

After he ensures you're out of his sight, faraway, he collapses on the ground, gasps in pain. The glass falls from his face breaking in pieces like his heart is, filled with sheeting cracks. He has become a terrible mess.

"I like you too, Y/N.", he confesses in tears to the void which you had occupied till few moments earlier.

But you're not there to listen.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

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nariism · 4 months

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*ੈ✩ LAST WORDS OF A SHOOTING STAR

pair. itadori yuji x reader

synopsis. in the 3 days following the shibuya incident, itadori yuji emerges as a husk of his former self. with his immediate execution resumed, you both grapple with the feelings you have for each other and come to terms with his impending death.

content. hurt/comfort (lots of comfort, thank art because i was gonna be mean about this and they convinced me not to), slightly canon divergent (taking place between shibuya and the culling games), fluff and minor angst, yuta is the best wingman

wc. ~4.4k

NOVEMBER 1 2018

You imagine that your face was rather ghastly when you received the news.

"Execution?" You repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. No, that was the wrong description. It tasted of death—like iron and the depths of Hell filling your mouth until you were gurgling on it.

Unlike the rest of the Jujutsu Sorcerers from Tokyo, you had been ordered to stay back with Shoko in case of an emergency. You remember your exile from battle had left a similar rotten flavour in your mouth.

You vanished off the face of the earth after the incident was over. Most probably presumed you died in the aftermath. Devoured by a curse, they would say and shake their heads. You were always troublesome. And then they would move on with the rest of the world, all the same.

Lives were only temporary in the world of curses. Focus on who you can save, not who is already gone. They'll only end up a curse in your sleep. What a horrible notion to have.

The truth is that you'd been whisked away with Yuta, who seemed to be scheming a plan of his own. Perhaps as a middle finger to the higher ups he hated so much, or perhaps just for his own selfish reasons. You wouldn't know until he was finished carrying it through—he's too good at keeping secrets.

He wanted your reverse cursed technique, you knew that much for sure, even though he could do it himself. You were useful by his side, fitting into his plot in a way you could not in Shibuya. Feeling some sort of obligation and satisfaction, you followed him like a lost puppy.

And now here you are, seated by a dimming fire in the abandoned part of the city. Yuta was too clever for his own good. You suppose Gojo taught him some things well. This was their plan after all.

Yuji was safe, if only for this moment in time.

"Now with Gojo gone, it would have been easy for the higher ups to send assassins your way."

Ruthless and truthful, you flinch, but Yuji does not. He remains perfectly still in your hold, with your hands rotating his face around to get a better look at his wounds. You pour your cursed energy into him, hoping to breathe life back into his eyes, but they stay dull and empty.

"We'll find a way to stop this," you assure, reaching over to take a sanitizing wipe to clean an open cut. Yuta was too rough on him, but it was at least believable that Yuji was dead. He doesn't even recoil from the alcohol stinging his flesh, too engrossed in his own thoughts.

"Why?" He asks weakly. You gawk at him, but then it melts away into a softness that finally makes him blink up at you. "I'm evil."

"You're not evil, Yuji."

"I am. I killed those people. I did." His voice comes flat and defeated, nothing like the one you used to listen to over dinner while he reenacted shitty western films.

You never realize what you'll miss until it's gone. It's hollow, the ache in your heart.

"You don't understand. How could you? All this blood on my hands—"

"It was Sukuna," you quickly refute.

"And Sukuna only lives because I do!"

His voice raises at you, causing the flames behind you to flicker and crack. It's enough for Yuta to step in, acting as a barrier between your tense bodies. Yuji seems to shrink at this, realizing his emotions have run amok and that he has yelled at you.

You only stare back at him in bewilderment, like a frightened animal. Your upperclassman shakes his head.

"Enough of this. We need to start making plans."

You lay awake that night, alone and anxious. Yuta has taken the first shift of watching and patrolling while the two of you rest, though hesitant to leave you alone. He told you it’s another reason he dragged you along: having three people to rotate shifts instead of just two would be easier on your bodies and minds. The city is not what it used to be, now overrun with curses of all grades.

You reassured him it would be fine, that you would fall asleep quickly and so would Yuji—his body has to run out of steam eventually, right? Oh, what a fool you were.

The tension is so heavy that it's awkward, even though you're sleeping on opposite ends of the tunnel.

"Sleep," you demand as if you were Inumaki, like you have the power to curse him.

His eyes flutter open. Even in the firelight, you don't see any shine in them, seeming as if they had been extinguished of life. "Why don't you?"

"I can't until you do."

"That's stupid," he tells you.

It's not the first time you've argued like this. Back when the world felt right, you would sneak in through his dorm window well into the hours of the night. Platonic, you had convinced yourself. You snuck into his bed seeking companionship as a friend. That's the lie you gorged on.

A piece of you knew, and you're sure he did too, that the way your hands explored his arms was unnatural for two friends, and that friends wouldn't sneak into each other's rooms like this with such severe punishment on the line.

It was safe in his arms, with the dull hum of his television running an old horror film in the background. You didn't have to think about much other than his warmth when you sat between his legs with your back to his chest. Or when his arm was draped over your shoulder and you were pressed into his side—actually, you think you preferred this one though you felt sorry for his sore arm.

You would bicker about dumb, pointless things. Which movie is better, or which character deserved to be mutilated more. It would go on for so long that Megumi would bang his fist on their shared wall to get the two of you to shut up.

There was no curse strong enough to change time itself, so you keep your thoughts and memories to yourself when you respond.

"You'll be too tired to function on your shift," you reason.

"You both will be fine without me." Better off without me, you know he means. You've gotten good at reading between his lines.

You slowly sit up in your sleeping bag, eyes never leaving Yuji. He seems so frail right now, even though he looks more adult than he ever has before.

"Human Earthworm 4 was better than 2," you suddenly say. His eyes peer open again in confusion.

"Huh? 2 was way better."

"I liked the love story in 4," you argue, slowly getting out of your bag to shuffle to his side of the concrete tunnel. He looks at you as if you've said something outlandish, too preoccupied with his thoughts to wonder why you've come so close.

"2 had the best special effects though."

Your body shifts under his blanket.

"But 4 had a happier ending." (As far as 'happy' goes in the Human Earthworm series, at least.)

His arm falls around your waist as it has a hundred times, pulling you into his chest.

"Whatever," he huffs. The next topic comes fast and you're thrown into a full blown conversation with him. If you concentrate enough, you can imagine your bodies being tangled together in his bed, safe and sound.

Concrete and fire and the stench of curses melt away until he's all you can focus on.

"You have weird taste in movies," he concludes with his eyes drifting shut.

NOVEMBER 2 2018

You think you know how to fix broken people until you find that they are more than skin and bones.

You learn one thing after the Shibuya Incident: there are wounds residing within Yuji just as much as there are marking his flesh.

Yuta, you realize, had left the two of you alone to sleep and has protected you all night. You'll make it up to him, you reason. Yuji deserved to sleep.

When you wake up to his sleeping face, you think his cuts are healing nicely. But then his expression twists up in terror—a nightmare, if he even had enough energy left in him to conjure up dreams. He murmurs in his sleep, shakes his head a few times and thrashes around so much you're surprised you slept through the night by his side.

"Sukuna," he's whispering. Sukuna, Sukuna, Sukuna. King of Curses. The second voice tormenting him that lives in his own brain like a parasite. You bury yourself into his chest and hold him as tight as you can. He relaxes, body releasing its rigid form, but the murmurs continue.

He is shattered beyond repair. No amount of cursed energy could fix that, even if you tried.

You had once watched Yuji electrocute himself trying to set up the janky old television in his dorm room.

He fell back onto the floor with a loud crash, head hitting the wood so hard you thought he might have a concussion. It caused such a racket that Megumi came running into the room asking what happened, demon dog ready behind him in case of an ambush.

You rushed to the floor, discarding all the food you had settled in your lap and crumbled beside him to scoop him into your arms.

"Yuji!" You called him. People rarely used his first name. You felt special, like you knew him better than others did and for some reason that was a privilege. "Are you okay?"

He laughed in your arms, seeming unfazed by the fact that electricity had run through every vein in his body. "I'm fine, see? My finger just slipped."

You and Megumi both sighed in relief, though you always thought it was strange when you reflected on it. Yuji was a funny guy, yes. He was equal parts humour and destruction but not a klutz. Mistakes happen, so you let it slide until now, but some part of you was nagging to ask.

"That day," you start while rolling up your sleeping bag. "You electrocuted yourself. Remember?"

He looks at you funny over his shoulder. Yuta has already started cracking open cans of food for breakfast, embers of your dead fire cracking.

"Hmm, yeah. I remember. Why?"

"I just thought..." you trail off. "Well, Sukuna makes you tough to a lot of things. I'm surprised small electric shocks aren't one of them."

Sukuna. A name you'd been avoiding since this morning. Sickening silence settles between you. It's so heavy that you pause in your cleaning to look at him, brow raised.

"Yeah," he coughs. "Well, maybe I exaggerated."

"Huh?" You sound annoyed now. "You scared us half to death!"

Yuji only falters in his own chores. When he looks at you again, there's a longing in his gaze that you don't know how you could have missed. Or perhaps it was never there until now.

"It was nice to have you fawning over me," he admits.

The day goes on and all you feel is a terrible grief.

You become painfully aware of each millimeter the sun glides across the sky, from one horizon to the other. Time slips through your fingers fast as sand.

Horrifically, you can't find anything to talk about to fill the emptiness—Nobara and Megumi feel off the table considering the extent of their injuries. You don't even dare to breathe Gojo's name, let alone speak of him so boldly as Yuta is.

You're afraid that Yuji will spiral again, confused and unwilling to cooperate with his judgement clouded by loss. It's not your fault, you would say. It is, he would argue. It would do neither of you good, so you idle around while he and Yuta devise plans to tiptoe around the higher ups.

A part of you knows that if either of you told him to submit and die, he would. He's already teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

On the outside, he seems perfectly indifferent. Gaze steady, face stone and unchanging as he speaks. He's doomed, ill-fated, someone full of misfortune. He looks so lonely that the air itself parts for him where he stands.

To shoulder so much responsibility, so much death, maybe he truly is alone. Some fraction of him, at least—a piece of himself only he would ever understand.

Your hand snakes into his without a second thought. You don't know why you did it, nor do you have any reasoning that he doesn't yank away from you. His hand trembles, and it's then that you realize his whole body is wracked with tremors that don't match his distant disposition.

The second thing you learn is this: when Yuji self-destructs, he does it from the inside-out.

Itadori Yuji loves chocolate cake.

He loves all food, really, acting like your friend group's personal food dumpster whenever any of you were full. But chocolate cake you knew he had a sweet tooth for.

You used to bring it with you to his dorm, stopping by the convenience stores on the way home to grab a pre-packaged slice from the fridge for him to eat.

"You're making a mess," you would tell him with a frown, using your thumb to wipe up frosting from the corner of his mouth. You would lick the pad of your finger clean after that, and he would watch almost in a trance.

It's the reason why you stop on one of your patrols, poking through the fridge section of a convenience store. The power has been out for a long time in this part of the city, all the food is already room temperature, but you figure this is fine as long as it smells okay.

The way Yuji's face lights up when he sees you is all it takes for the worry to go away.

It briefly feels as though nothing has ever gone wrong—that after this slice of cake the two of you will tumble back onto his mattress and turn on another showing of Titanic. (He groaned about it once, saying he got KO'd too many times during this film. You only laughed in confusion.)

At the end of the day, you know those days will never come back to you, lost forever in the wind.

Fire dances before you and you watch, enchanted by the flames. You remember last night, how not even the firelight could make Yuji look the same as he did before. You turn your head to look at him, to see if it's any different tonight, just for your cheek to be caught in his palm.

His thumb traces your lip, the way you used to do to him. You recognize the pull of his finger against your flesh, the swipe of it to get frosting off, but he still seems dissatisfied.

"What?" You ask.

"It didn't come off," he mutters, leaning in dangerously close to observe. Heat rises all the way to your cheeks and makes your hairs stand on end. His touch is like molten lava. You wonder if it has something to do with the monster living inside of him.

"I can't see it," you whine without a mirror.

He draws a little closer, until he's inches from your face. "Let me..."

You've suddenly been dropped into cold, unknown waters. This is all unfamiliar. He's rushing this, as if making up for all the time the two of you lost pretending you were only friends. As if he can cram all the things he's wanted to tell you into one night.

Recoiling away, you find yourself hesitating. If he kisses you, this all becomes too real. It's an acknowledgment of his impending death. That the thread of his life is finer and further stretched than yours is.

An unpleasant thought rings through your mind. What if I become a curse on him?

"This only ends badly for us," you whisper, but the conviction is missing from your voice.

He doesn't care. At least, it doesn't look like he does. Who knows what he's thinking right now?

"Who cares?" He says. "We're Jujutsu Sorcerers. Everything bad happens to us no matter what."

You don't have any rebuttal to that, no argument that forms in your mind that could challenge his words. He was right. Only disaster befalls Sorcerers. Disaster and grief.

For a while you had forgotten, living these idyllic months watching the days pass by. You feel like you wasted that precious time worrying about stupid things, like what to have for breakfast or what kind of snacks you should pick up for movie night.

(It ended up being popcorn every time. He liked to piss off Sukuna with it, saying the King of Curses would never get to experience the pleasure of picking out kernels from his teeth. You scoffed but bought it anyway.)

Another thought crosses your mind: Yuji is more fit to be in a rom-com, or a television series where the good guys always win. Not this tragedy. Not this massacre.

You wonder if he's ever felt the same way. If he ever wished he could reach into the sky and turn the sun back to a time before he even knew what a curse was.

If you’d met each other under different circumstances, would this have been a different story? The thought makes your heart ache, a part of you so deep that even if you reached into your chest and plucked it, you'd still wail.

"Can I?" He asks you, eager but quiet. Had this been a few months ago, you imagine that he would have had this spark in his eye. That his lips would be crashing into yours with no inhibition.

But Yuji has always been selfless, you think he always will be. He doesn't want to drag you down if you don't want to—an out, they call it. An escape route just before he careens into a ditch.

Hope has drained from every inch of his expression. This is his loneliness talking.

Despite the dread that licks up your spine, you cup his face. You swear he jolts slightly beneath your touch, as if you've reached out to strike him down. A retribution he believes he deserves.

He kisses you like it's his last day on earth.

You learn one last thing: Itadori Yuji tastes familiarly of death.

Yuta decides to leave you alone for a second night in a row. His presence is so crushing that you know he's alive, but he stalks off somewhere else, leaving just you and Yuji huddled by the pitiful fire you've built.

He once claimed himself jokingly to be a love expert, and then ran off to Kenya for so long that you lost track of how much time passed. You wish you'd asked him before he left what he meant, but at the time it seemed irrelevant. Insignificant. The name Itadori Yuji had not yet been impressed into your heart like a seal.

You're busy setting up the sleeping bags, this time pushing them flush together. They're so close you can barely see the seam between them. Yuji stands on the other side of the fire, watching.

It reminds him of all the times you'd ever scolded him for not making his bed in the morning. I'm gonna crawl back in tonight anyway, he said. Who cares if it's messy?

Idiot, you would call him. But there was no malice behind it. He treated it like a pet name, a badge of honour to be your idiot.

Life felt so simple back then. He was full of determination and life and stuck to his morals as best he could. When he wavered he would text you to come over so you could fall asleep on his chest and suffocate any other thoughts out of his head.

"I've never felt so powerful before," he admits quietly. You turn to look at him, curious. "Like I could do anything in the world."

There's a negative connotation to that, you know. He could do anything. The world would crumble at his feet and there he would stand, laughing at it all. It isn't his will, not even slightly, but the demon taking refuge in his body would love to see the blood pool.

"Like I could just... reach out and—"

"Yuji!" You hiss, lurching forward to take his hand into yours and retreat from the flame. The skin is already pink and blistering, scorched by the embers. You twist his wrist around, observing where the fire licked the deepest, and pour your energy into him.

When you look up to see if he's crying, or at least grimacing in pain, you find only his smiling face—warm and adoring. For a second it feels like the world isn't burning around you.

It was nice to have you fawning over me.

You wipe that stupid smirk off his face, leaning in to smear a kiss along the scar on his lip.

"Idiot," you say, and he laughs for the first time in so long that it sounds foreign in your ears.

(He doesn't fall asleep that night. He would rather savour the sound of your soft snores, memorize the form of your body in his hold, and try his hardest to burn this into his brain.

So be it if you come to curse him one day. He would welcome you with open arms.)

NOVEMBER 3 2018

The day comes when Megumi sneaks into your hideout, asking for help.

His sister, he explains. He needs help saving Tsumiki. For some reason, resentment boils in your stomach, but then it's snuffed just as fast.

Two days and two nights you've spent pretending Japan isn't collapsing, content with sitting idly by as curses overran Tokyo. You're sure Megumi thought you to be cowards, that you were all hiding under this bridge to wait out the hellstorm that was raining down on your homes.

It was true to some extent. Once Yuji stepped out into battle again, that was that. You're not sure things would ever be the same again, though you suppose you lost the privilege of routine days ago.

"Let me come too," you urge. Three pairs of eyes land on you.

"No," Yuji pushes. "It's dangerous."

"I can fight!"

"You can't," he pauses, then corrects himself, "You won't."

Awkward silence settles over your encampment. Yuta stirs, standing to hold you steady by the shoulders.

"If we need help... if one of us is hurt, we'll need you unharmed. Do you understand?"

Ah, ever so wise, your upperclassman. So easy to persuade you. There's a reason why he's the chosen one only second to Gojo.

You swallow the bile that fights up your throat. "What if you don't come back?"

Yuji steps in this time, knocking away Yuta to hold you by the face. Get a grip, this means. Pull yourself together, don't you dare fall apart in front of me.

"We will."

You once considered telling him how you felt, letting it eat away at you until Nobara groaned in disgust.

“If Itadori starts dating before I do, I’ll puke.”

You remember that you laughed, thinking she was so dramatic. You loved that about her. “I think you would do worse.”

She glared at you, foot lightly kicking at your shin under the table. Still, she made sure to push equal amounts of rice to your side of the plate. “I might burn a village down,” she huffed, placing her chin on her palm.

“You’re fine. Even if I told him how I feel, I don’t think he’d accept.”

“Huh?” Nobara sounded genuinely confused, raising a brow at you. “What makes you think that?”

You didn't know how to answer that. Maybe you were just afraid that you had misinterpreted everything, that the way he held you was protective in a familial manner and that he would slam his door in your face when you tried.

Looking back on it, you can imagine him in the next room ranting about the same things to Megumi.

“He still has posters of Jennifer Lawrence on his wall,” you argued weakly while shoveling rice into your spoon. She watched you take your bite with her lips parted in disbelief.

You wish you had told him, then. Not that it would have changed where you both ended up.

You watch as they pack up their things.

Megumi's demon dog keeps you quiet company, tail thrashing against the ground as you slick back its fur. They talk around the dying flames, devising plan after plan. None seem safe. None would be.

Yuta and Megumi leave first, taking the lead in front of the pack. His dog melts into the shadows and disappears, leaving you sitting alone.

"I want to take you back, but..." Yuji glances over his shoulder toward his death sentence. "Will you make it okay on your own?"

You get up slowly, as if to draw out the time he stands before you. A thousand questions run through your head: what if you never see him again? What if this kills him, not by body, but by his already damaged soul?

He must sense the racing of your mind, so he leans in to engulf you in his arms. In an instant, memories of those days spent lounging in his bed, shoveling your food onto his plate, and purposefully talking louder to tease Megumi come flooding.

A year you would never forget. You're sure it'll become a curse if you dwell, so you tell him: "I'll make it. You go on, they need you."

I need you, too. Stay. If only it were so simple.

He smiles at you, warm like the sun that's hidden behind the barrier. Itadori Yuji looks like a ghost of his former self, battle-worn and covered in scars where his skin used to be smooth. He kisses you again for good measure, making sure he remembers the way you sigh into his mouth.

When he pulls away, there's life gleaming in his eyes.

"Let's watch Human Earthworm 5 when I come back."

Your thumb brushes the corner of his lip. You open your mouth to speak, to finally tell him the truth after all this time. You'd rather not die regretting you never said it, after all.

But you stop.

"I prefer Titanic," you confess. He shakes his head and kisses your forehead. Then he’s gone, taking all the warmth with him.

You'll make up for lost time one day. It won’t be today. You can tell him all about your feelings when he comes back to you.

914 notes · View notes

periprose · 9 months

Text

Fly Away

Michael Berzatto x Reader

You're a family friend of the Berzattos and you're invited to have fun at their annual Christmas dinner. You think you still harbor feelings for Carmy, but as the evening progresses, you feel something for his brother.

Genre: friends to lovers, former crush on carm, really everything w carm is mostly platonic, unrequited stuff, insecurities, age gaps (reader and carm are 25, Michael is 38), takes place in 2017, takes place in S2E6, lots of angst, anxiety, some fluff, no use of y/n (you have a nickname: Birdie)

Word count: 11k

There’s a bauble and trinket everywhere you look. Festive, Christmas spirit seems to ebb from the very walls of the Berzatto household– and you would be remiss not to compliment it vocally in some way.

Donna is clearly waiting, teetering on a response from you as you take everything in from the front door. And you know how she reacts if you don’t say things in that perfect, supportive tone that she so desperately thrives off of.

“Wow, Mrs. Berzatto!” You clasp your hands, trying not to seem too cloying or ironic. “I love what you’ve done with the house. Such an eye for details.”

“Oh, stop.” She giggles, and lightly taps your shoulder as she takes your coat and hangs it up in the closet.

“No, really. I wish my house was so… Christmassy this time of year.” You shrug, knowing that your dad isn’t the festive type after divorcing your mother.

“Aw. Well, we have love to spread here.” It’s a strange unseen sympathy coming from Donna, and she pulls you inside, and you take off your shoes, shuffling around in your socks and your comfy, hopefully chic, green loose turtleneck sweater. “Except you might have to wait a bit, because some of these fuckers are late.”

There’s that bitter tone you remember from Donna. You don’t really care for that– you tend to have an avoidant personality especially with how your own mother acts sometimes– and she yells out for Carmy and Mikey to greet you.

“Boys! Birdie’s here!” She calls from the stairs, and you suddenly feel self conscious.

Ever since your dad, a former co-worker and friend of Cicero’s, starting taking you as a teenager to these Berzatto hangouts, you have always had a eye for Carmen. It was hard not to be, seeing this bashful, slightly angry, awkward boy, around the same age as you, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. You felt like sometimes, he really, really listened to you, and that was all you needed.

You wish you could be there for him too.

It’s something you’ve never acted on, never bothered to actually approach him about– he always seemed so absorbed by his own thing.

You relished in the fact that he never had a girlfriend. You felt secure in that, because he just seemed safe. And it’s not like he would’ve been mean about rejecting you if he knew– you were always close to the Berzatto siblings. You were Bear and Birdie, ready to head out on a walk together, while the adults gossiped and drank.

Of course, you haven’t seen him in about… two years now. Around after he left to his apartment, and did his chef-education-training (you’re a bit vague on the details, honestly), and ever since then, as far as you know he’s slowly been doing what he loves. He does text you from time to time, but you’d be overstating those texts’ importance if you pretended it really quantified a relationship.

Mikey clambers down the stairs, wearing what looks to be pajamas, or very chill homebody clothes, and he raises his arm in a big, Italian gesture.

“Oh! Is that little Bird I see?” He exclaims, and pulls you into an eager hug. Maybe a little too eager– you think it’s almost as if you’re comforting him as you hug him back, his face coming down onto your shoulder, as he encapsulates you– and he pulls away, grinning.

He actually looks really good. You don’t know when you started thinking that Mikey was good looking, but it’s true– he has a certain, rough around the edges appeal that you find yourself drawn to.

“Merry Christmas. You’ve been keeping away from us.” Mikey points as you, intended as a stern remark, but you snort.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas. I’ve been busy with work and law school, Michael. I’m not a kid anymore.” You resist the urge to comment on his beard, and then do it anyways. “Are you sure I’ve been keeping away? You’re the one with a hermit-ass beard.”

“Oh… they grow up and just start taking shots at you, don’t they, Ma?” Mikey places his hand over his heart, as if he’s wounded, and Donna shakes her head in agreement, before heading back to the kitchen, already seeming annoyed about something. “Beards are fashionable in 2017, Bird. Maybe come back to our current time– no reason for you to start dressing like a grandma already.”

You scoff at that, pointing at your sweater. “It’s semi-formal, c’mon! It looks nice. Respect the gathering’s rules.”

“It’s my house, babe.” Mikey leans in with maybe a little too much comfort, his eyes shining with some warmth, mirth even, and you don’t exactly pull away– the guy is like thirteen years older than you, and even if he does kid around, play up an older brother thing, you’ve started feeling like he’s restraining something more as of late, maybe some primal level of attraction that he knows better than to mess around with. You know that the feeling is kind of mutual– but you really don’t know how to quantify it. “I’m man of the house, and I say you should wear something that maybe, uh, shows off the pretty twenty-five year old that you are.”

The last part of this sentence has you swallowing a little, and you feel your face turning warm, and Mikey himself looks embarrassed that he’s said it, that he’s given a bit of evidence to your theories– he seems to brush something off, inside himself.

You have never thought you were all that. You’ve always been pretty sure you should be glad that you’ve gotten by without having to worry about your looks. The idea of wearing a nice, somewhat revealing dress to the Berzattos’ house has you cringing, because you know it would just be… bad.

“I’m not–” Mikey scowls at himself and you can visibly see himself fighting something, looking a little anxious, and you tentatively grasp his forearm.

“I know what you mean. I’m not offended.” You smile slightly, making the effort to calm him down a little, because you would never want Michael to beat himself up over you (he really seems to do that as of late and you know you’re not worth the trouble), and he nods and inhales. “You look good, too.”

“Right. Right on, Birdie. You can do what you want, anyways. Not up to me.” He seems to really dial back some of what he said, and before you can respond, Carmy walks downstairs.

“Hi. Hey, Birdie. Merry Christmas.” He says, kind of quietly, and you find yourself somewhat happy to hear him say your nickname again. Carmy looks especially nice– deep blue has always been his colour, it brightens up his eyes– and he has slightly longer hair than you remember.

He leans in for a brief but firm hug, and glances at your eyes once, before looking towards the floor again.

Mikey nods and proceeds to exit to the kitchen, and you’re left with Carmy grappling with what to say.

“How have you–”

“How’s law sch–”

Carmy coughs awkwardly, and you find your face turning warm as he looks towards you.

“Sorry, Bear.” You let him speak, hoping not to scare him away. “How’s everything? You okay?”

“Yeah. Uh… well, I’ve been training at Copenhagen?” He furrows his brows, runs his hand through his hair. “Just learning as much as I can.”

“Oh. Uh-huh.” Your curiosity is piqued– you didn’t know he was in Denmark, much to your disappointment– but you want to pry more of an answer out of him. He doesn’t seem interested in talking about it more than that.

“Sorry. Sorry. Stupid answer, there’s just not much to say.” Carmy shrugs, and then realizes suddenly that you’ve been standing at the foyer of the house for quite some time now, which isn’t very polite or inviting of him. “Wait, hold on. Let’s go sit inside and talk.”

Carmy makes some offhand comment about how you need to speak up sometimes and stop being so nice and accommodating to idiots like him, and you snicker, knowing that this is the Carmy you remember– snarky, ready to fight people on sometimes, even if he is a little weird and bashful. Although he’s short– he makes up for it with his resilience.

Carmy leads you through golden-lit hallways, a certain pepperminty, pine tree scent seeming to overlay the entire house, and there’s bushels and wreathes and mistletoe everywhere, and somehow even more baubles, ornaments, trinkets, knickknacks, all gold and red and warm tones that do make you feel a little fuzzy.

Carmy sits you down in the living room, on the sofa, and you’re next to him, and you place a foot under your knee, trying to feel casual. Not freaking out about him sitting right next to you. Weirdly enough… you don’t think you feel anything anxiety inducing.

Perhaps you’re just getting more reassured of yourself with age.

“So? How is Copenhagen, otherwise? I know Denmark is really interesting, but you’re probably busy with chef stuff, huh?” You prod just a little further. Just out of your own personal curiosity to see how far Carmy will go for you, and he nods. “Any friends?”

“Ah…” Carmy winces a little. “Can’t say if he’s a friend yet, but there is this guy that’s out of this world with pastries. I don’t know if I can meet his standard on that.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “Bear, you make my dad cookies all the time. Or, well, you used to. You can’t be that bad at it, considering that he always eats all of them.”

“Oh, really? Fuck, man.” Carmy looks at you in disbelief, settling more into his corner of the couch, closer to the tree, but looking more openly at you. You feel yourself cower a little under his watchful gaze. “I didn’t know your dad enjoyed them that much… I would’ve made more. Did you ever try them?”

“Hm?” You were getting lost in the details around Carmy– the dark blue shirt, the little bits of stubble around his jaw, the tattoos peeping out from under his long sleeves– and you nod. “Ah, I tried a batch around the last time you gave him some. I think it was… macadamia, matcha, white chocolate? Really good.”

Carmy is unreadable, his eyes flickering from the ground to your eyes– you think maybe you’ve embarrassed him a little– but he thanks you. “Where is your dad, anyways?”

“Ah. He’s got the flu, and he was kind enough to not want to infect you guys.” You admit. “Even though he was trying his best to walk over here from our house.”

Carmy remembers that you live in the neighbourhood over. You two used to hang out a lot during elementary and high school. He kind of missed you– something he’d never say out loud, but Carmy knows friends are few with him, and you were always a good friend to him growing up. You were always a comforting presence for him– you never asked him for too much, and he could tell you were being careful to do so. No pressure.

You just became really busy with law school, and he became really busy with chef stuff, and now you’re both… you both just lost touch. He feels bad about it– bad like he always does, with former friends and acquaintances from high school that he’s accidentally ghosted and lost– but at least you don’t seem to be annoyed about it.

He thinks it’s probably because in this case, you pulled away just as much as he had to.

“How’s law school, anyways?” Carmy counts the years in his head. “You’ve either just finished or you’re in your final year?”

“I’m in my final year.” You stretch out your arms, looking eager. “It’s a lot of work– I’m only here because I’m lucky enough to have a bit of a break in the winter months, and I’m ahead on my courses. But, uh… I don’t know. It’s fun.”

“Fun? Wow.” Carmy grins a little.

“What?”

“I don’t know, Birdie. Fun is more… fucking, I don’t know, fireworks or something? Drugs, maybe, yeah.” Carmy watches as you laugh, and laugh, at what he’s said, and again he’s never really sure what’s so funny about what he’s said, but he likes to hear you laugh.

“Clearly you don’t know either.” You snort, and lightly punch his arm. “When did we become workaholics?”

“Probably when we became, uh, adults and entered the workforce.” Carmy states, and you wrinkle your brows.

“We’re not really in the workforce yet, but–”

“What, really? C’mon. You’re a fucking receptionist or some shit, right?”

“Business administration specialist.”

“Yeah, there you go. That’s work, especially with all the school you have to do.” Carmy shrugs. “But what do you really want to be, then?”

“Oh, we getting into dreams, then?” You cock an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think you cared that much, Bear.”

Carmy, for some reason he can’t detect, turns a little red. “No, of course I do. We’re still friends, right?”

“Acquaintances.”

“For real?” Carmy looks back at you, affronted, but you have a little smile and he knows you’re teasing. “Oh fuck you. Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You shake your head, giggling a little, glad to have so easily fallen back into a comfortable, friendly banter. “Of course we’re friends, it’s just that… I always thought very highly of you, Carmen, and I can’t always be sure that feeling was returned. You know? I assumed that you’d be out doing sophisticated cooking in big, upscale restaurants, and the rest of us would just be reading about it. Forgive me for feeling a little behind it all.”

“No, no, no. You got it all wrong, Birdie.” Carmy half-laughs at how you put him on such a pedestal. “You were always the one doing real work, as Mom would call it. You’re the one who’s actually smart and good at arguing, debating– that’s a real skill coming from me, because I just yell fuck at everyone and hope it works. I always thought you were the impressive one out of all of us.”

You snicker, but you’re actually quite pleased with that, and you feel your heart warm at his praise. “Ah, that’s so sweet. Thank you. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been surviving off of ramen and convenience store food for the last month. I can hardly make the time to cook efficiently.”

“...” Carmy shakes his head. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You’re gonna eat good food today then, I hope.”

Almost as if on cue, Donna calls for Carmy to come help her with something– and you’re left sitting as he tells you that he’s going to hear about your dream job when he gets back.

Fifteen minutes later– Carmy is still MIA, and you’re starting to get a little hungry.

You know it’s rude, but luckily Michael comes by and asks if you want a snack.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” You ask, and Michael snickers.

“You’re the same girl that can eat a whole number four combo at the Beef. I’m pretty sure you were hungry before you got here.” Michael jokes, and you blush in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, stop it.” You shake your head. “Anyways, yeah. A snack would be nice.”

Michael gives you a wink that strangely has you a little twitterpated, before you shake that off. He comes back a few minutes later, chewing on something himself– and he hands you a bowl full of Italian sausage stirfry.

“Thanks, Michael.” You smile up at him, and he nods, trying not to smile too much back at your gratitude, but he likes how you take a bite and look super relieved, happy with the food. He’s always loved giving food to people– taking care of them. Especially you, for some reason.

Michael heads back to the kitchen, and Natalie comes by and takes his place.

“Birdie!” She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, equally happy. “Oh my gosh, if I knew you were down here I would’ve come by ages ago!”

“Aw.” You beam at her. “That’s okay, Nat. I’m happy to see you too.”

She’s off ranting about how Pete, her husband, is late, and how she can barely manage everything going on, and you’re sympathetic. You know Nat gets more of a harsh treatment from Donna, and you tell her that you’re there if she needs a person on her side.

“Oh, Birdie. I couldn’t do that to you. Even if you are amazing at talking, Miss Lawyer-to-be.” She lets you continue to sit down in your corner of the living room, as she heads off to check on her mom– maybe pour out some alcohol.

Carmy comes back in, slightly powdered with flour on his forehead– and he sits back down, sighing, as he drinks a glass of water.

There’s the slightest air of awkward tension still– even if you and Carmy have fallen back into your old ways, he still keeps a slight distance, one that he’s grown into, and you feel that you have to break the silence. You don’t know if he’s just tired or if there’s some level of irritation of having to deal with all the holiday bullshit, but you take a guess it has to do with Donna.

“That bad?” You grimace, and Carmy matches your expression.

“That bad.” He shakes his head. “She always gets a little woo-woo around these fucking events. Like, I never wanted her to do all of this– but she insists and insists and doesn’t know how to let go of the, uh…”

“Hubris.”

“Yes. Hubris.” Carmy sighs, glad you still have the perfect word for everything. “Whatever. Anyways, haven’t forgotten. Hit me with your dream.”

“Okay, it’s going to sound a little weird, but, um… I’m really interested in becoming a labour relations lawyer?” You feel almost too much glee at the fact that Carmy remembered, and you see Carmy bite his lip, a little confused, so you continue, hoping you don’t sound like too much of a fucking nerd. “Meaning to help employees get out of their shitty situations with wages, working hours, benefits and fight for their rights. Union stuff. I don’t know, just feels like everyone is struggling with this nowadays… might as well push forward and try to help them out.”

“Wow, now that you’ve said that, it makes a lot of sense.” Carmy blinks. “I mean, uh, it’s not just that you’re good at arguing– you always go for the justice part of things. Remember when Michael and Sugar were arguing about cleaning the basement?”

You do remember that. You suggested dividing up either equally or by who owned what, and they eventually came to an agreement based on that. Michael wanted to dip because he was older, and Sugar thought it was demeaning to ask a girl to clean.

“Or when Lee said that women can’t think analytically, or what was it… mathematically?” Carmy laughs as he watches your face turn angry again.

“Yeah. I especially remember that. I told him to think about Ada Lovelace and to shut up.” You wince. “Maybe not the most mature thing I’ve ever said. I don’t think that’s such a great thing… sometimes I don’t know when to let go of arguments.”

“It’s alright, it was funny.” Carmy plays with his fingers. “That being said, I think you’ll be good if you choose to be that. A labour relations lawyer. You’re smart, and god fucking knows we all need the help. You should check out how many chefs get fucked over because they work at places for the prestige of doing so.”

“Damn.” You make a mental note of that, feeling embarrassed over how much praise Carmy has freely given you. “Is that going to be you?”

“Doesn’t matter if it is. Sometimes you gotta do what you can.” Carmy doesn’t really give you a clear answer, and you feel bad for him. Bad that he’s still stuck in that mindset.

You can hear people hooting and jeering near the stairs, as you walk around the house, exploring a little. Tiff was grateful that you visited her for a brief moment– she told you being pregnant was not all it was cracked up to be– and now you’re just on the upper floor, near the stair railing, on your phone.

You’re not really one to eavesdrop, but you hear– you believe it’s Mikey and Richie– they’re chanting “Claire! Claire Bear!”

Your stomach drops, as you hear them hoot about how hot she is, whoever this Claire girl is– how stacked she is, apparently, the banging body she has, the glasses no longer ruining her appearance– and although you know it’s gross men talk, there’s a small, sad part of you that wants to be perceived as attractive, too.

Still, even as you find yourself frowning and turning away in disgust, you can’t stop yourself from listening.

You remember her. Claire, one of the neighbours down the street. Went to the same high school as you and Carmy. She was really something, someone of note if you remember the popular kid cliques correctly, but she had largely gone unnoticed by you, and it wasn’t for any reason in particular. You can’t be close with every person in high school.

But still– you feel jealous. Just a teeny bit. What was so different about her?

Sure, she was a nice girl. But weren’t you? You arguably had more history with the Berzattos, and yet… it’s as if you’ve simply blended into the wallpaper, their assortment of home decor and furniture. You’ve always been here, and so you don’t stand out.

You might never stand out.

You can hear Carmy trying his best to argue against them, asking them what they did, telling them to fuck off with their teasing– but he sounds sheepish, embarrassed, righteously mortified in the telltale way one would be when they have a crush, and you feel sick.

They’re heaping compliments on her. You know what they mean when they talk about her like this– she’s the clear, obvious choice, probably closer to the family, more interesting, more affectionate, a genius. You don’t really know Claire that well, but apparently, she’s perfect. And you know you, in your silly frumpy sweater, in your attempts to dress up– you are not. You feel humiliated that you even believed Mikey when he said you were pretty– he was clearly complimenting you just to be nice.

You weren’t even an idea in their minds, not for Carmy, anyways. You don’t even think Carmy is capable of seeing you like that now, and it’s with a crushing blow that you realize you were holding out hope. Mistaking familiarity for affection.

It’s a rookie mistake. One that you thought you were self aware enough not to make, because you’ve always known Carmen Berzatto was just out of reach for you.

You wait for them to leave, and come down the stairs, running into Carmy as he groans in annoyance.

Carmy says he needs to wipe some of the flour out of his hair, and you let him go upstairs, not really wanting to look at him, doing everything you can to make your way back to the living room unnoticed. In the meanwhile, Michael comes back and flops into Carmy’s seat on the sofa, next to where you sit, sullen.

“Hey, Birdie.” Michael starts, and you can’t read his tone, and you’re a little annoyed with his fake-nice attention. “Why not sit with me, the Faks, Michelle and Stevie? They’re really good people, I promise.”

“How do you know I’m avoiding people?” You snap back, maybe a little too aggrieved.

“It’s written all over your face, little Birdie.” He touches his knee to yours, and you bite your lip, swallowing your confusion, and Mikey enjoys the fact that you’ve chosen to wear a deep, brick-red Christmas lip colour. It’s hot– he doesn’t get how you don’t seem to be aware that you’re attractive.

He wants to kiss you. Maybe mess up that fancy lipstick and that sweet, annoyingly justice oriented, always-right character of yours. But he keeps it to himself.

“Don’t be antisocial. You of all people shouldn’t be alone during the holidays.”

“I’m not trying to be antisocial. I promise.” You shrug, trying to keep your emotions, that sinking feeling in your gut at bay– the last thing you want is for Michael to see you upset. “I was keeping Bear company, but I can come sit with you guys.”

“That’s my girl.” Michael pulls you up by the arm, and you can feel your face warming at his choice of words– you like being in Michael’s good graces, even if you feel less than great right now.

Michelle, cousin of the Berzattos, has always been sweet to you. She’s impressive in her own right, and as you sit down in front of her and Stevie– she gushes about New York.

“Ah, that’s not to say Chicago isn’t impressive. Right, Birdie?” She smiles at you, not unkindly, and you feel happy to be included.

“Right.” You shrug, knowing that the law firm you work at isn’t all that crazy. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re nothing special, not after what transpired just a few minutes ago, and you voice it. “It’s just okay.”

“No, c’mon. You work at one of the top fucking law firms in the city– you’re gonna make it.” Michael admonishes you. “Out of us Chicagoans, I mean, Michelle, before you take offense.”

“Yeah, Mish.” Richie echoes, popping up out of nowhere.

“None taken.” Michelle fixes her eyes between you and Michael– perhaps reading on something that you’re not even really sure how to understand, let alone explain– and she laughs. “Anyways, what was I saying? Right.”

She launches into a story about hating a woman who didn’t understand the Berzatto name. It’s quite funny– you find yourself laughing every now and then, the dull ache in your heart less noticeable, especially with how good Michelle is at telling stories, and somewhere along the story, Michael’s hand has stayed intertwined with yours, without you really noticing. You only notice when he lets go, and again– a pitfall in your stomach, wondering if Michael just feels familiar around you because there’s nothing to be attracted to and thus respectful of– and it’s such a stupid thought, but you still just know you want to feel wanted. You want to get a hold on yourself– remind yourself you’re not owed attraction and there’s nothing wrong with Mikey or Carmy seeing you as just a friend.

You realize with a start that you’re feeling confused about Michael, too. Was it just a weird quirk of his, calling every single girl pretty just for laughs? Could you even trust what he said? Why does Michael’s opinion of you feel way more pertinent and important than Carmy’s does?

You find yourself mulling over these thoughts, not sure of what’s going on around you, and you hear Michael tell the Fak bros, Ned and Ted, to shut up about California, which they do.

Donna starts screaming in the background, which causes you to turn abruptly. “Oh, fuck me!”

Michael turns and looks at you with some caution– he’s used to his mother’s outbursts, but he never ever wants you to face them. You don’t deserve that, you’ve probably never done anything to deserve it. Not like him.

Stevie gets up, much to the surprise of everyone around him. “Looks like Auntie D needs help, huh?”

“No, no, no.” Everyone tries to stop him, including you.

“What?”

Michelle pushes him back down, but he gets back up, resilient.

Lee decides to comment in. “Let him, why not?”

“I’m sure she could use a few extra hands. I’m going.” He goes, and you stand up to follow, not willing to let an innocent person get dragged into Donna’s insanity.

“Wait, Birdie. Where are you going?” Michael holds your hand again, and you turn red at his action– a little angry, a little glum that he seems to care for you, and you can’t even be grateful for it. “Don’t throw yourself to the wolves. It’s not fucking worth it.”

“Not throwing myself– just want to make sure Stevie is protected.” You move forward, your face stony, and Michael lets go of you, sighing as he wraps his blanket around himself, wondering when you got all pissed off, but glad that you’re not so upset that you wouldn’t act all lawyer-y for Stevie.

Lee is glancing at him, while Michelle looks pleased as punch.

“What? What the fuck are these expressions?” Michael looks around questioningly, and Richie gives him a side glance.

“When’d you get all sweet on her, bro?” Richie gags a little. “Not that she’s not your type, but, uh–”

“I’m just being friendly.” Michael dismisses him, leaning back in his seat. “It’s the holidays, she shouldn’t be lonely.”

“Bullshit you are.” Richie sniggers, and Michael lightly shoves him.

“Yeah, I call bullshit too.” Michelle grins. “I can see it– you’re blushing.”

Michael groans, hating to be so obviously vulnerable in front of everyone.

“Well I, for one, think it’s a huge, fucking catastrophic mistake.” Lee starts, and Michael feels himself blanch under the judgement of this guy. “You’re going to ruin that young woman’s potential if you go around messing with her.”

“Lee, she’s not that young–” Neil starts. “I think she can decide that herself?”

“Whatever. This one knows he isn’t right for her– always wants what he can’t have.” Lee mutters, and Michael feels that white-hot rage– the anger he feels bubbling inside of him as of late.

He does his best to swallow it down, but a part of him knows that it’s true. As much as Michael enjoys your random visits over the past two years, he knows– you’re too good for someone like him. Too young, too selfless, too honest and good and pretty, and he feels an overwhelming wave of shame that he came so close. It’s like he just… doesn’t know how to be a good, responsible person, and it kills him on the inside that he could be so shameful, be so abhorrent and take advantage of you like that, and even if there is a tiny part of him screaming that it’s not so black and white– that you could be just as interested, of your own volition, in him as he is in you– he feels guilt.

Michael is ashamed of who he is. Over, and over, there’s that feeling again– kill yourself– that he doesn’t know how to suppress, and he ignores it as he starts up a new story.

Natalie is tearing up as Stevie hugs her.

You came towards them in the midst of Donna yelling for Stevie to get the fuck out of the kitchen, and Sugar shushing him and shoving him away, and you now place a hand on her shoulder– clearly Stevie has it handled, somewhat.

When he lets go, she sniffles and you smile encouragingly, albeit a little sadly, and Natalie wipes away a tear.

“It’s okay. It’s fine, it’s nothing. You don’t need to talk to her.” She starts, and you shake your head.

“I’m not going to. I can see that would make things worse.” You squeeze her shoulders, and Stevie nods.

“Yeah, Natalie. But we’re here. We’ll always be here if you want to talk.” He tries, and you smile at her– but something about Nat’s slightly upset, off putting expression, and Donna’s grumbling in the background– you feel your heart seizing a little at the tense emotions, so similar to your own, and you excuse yourself.

You walk until you reach the pantry, hot tears already working their way down your face. Every single negative emotion have come to a head, and you’re in terrible danger of having to explain things if you don’t get it together in under ten minutes or so.

You sit on the high table in the pantry, trying not to cry anymore than you already have, your head between your knees– but something about today has all your nerves on edge, and you know it’s because you put in some effort to come here, to see your dear friends, to look appealing enough, to be someone worth talking to, and now you feel as if they never really cared about you at all.

You know these are lousy, immature feelings. You know you can be above them if you really, truly tried, but you let yourself sink into them further, because something about this environment is terrible and you just can’t let it go.

Even worse, no one has really done anything wrong. If this was a court case, you wouldn’t even have any evidence to make a claim. You’re simply confused, perhaps looking at things from the wrong angles– but the fact that you can’t look at this rationally makes you feel worse. As if you’re not as smart as you believed.

You don’t know how long you’ve been in here, when you hear someone shuffle into the pantry, next to you– it’s Michael.

He’s quick on his feet– you try to move away, let him grab whatever household ingredient he needed– but his full attention is on you as his eyes narrow, scanning your tear stained face and your hunched over body.

“Birdie?”

You can’t quite look at him, and you desperately try to wipe your tears, burying your face more between your knees.

“Hey, no. Birdie.” He shakes his head, grabs your arms. He thinks it’s a little strange he’s had to cheer up two different people in the pantry, but he chalks it up to how his house always is. “What happened? Was it Ma?”

“No.” You sight and swallow down the sobs in your throat.

“Then what was it?” Michael’s eyes turn steely. “Fucking ‘Uncle’ Lee? Asshole. Told me I can’t finish any fucking businesses.”

“But… you run the Beef, don’t you?” You say, amid sniffles, entirely honest about it, and Michael’s eyes soften. “That has to count for something.”

“Yeah, little Bird.” He’s glad to have you here– he doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, not when you’re the only person on his side at this moment. “But why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

“I–” You shake your head, and feel your head hang heavy as you slouch over the table, and Michael leans over you, pressing your head to his chest, and you feel yourself crying silently into his shirt, as he shushes you and combs back your hair, his other arm caressing your back.

Michael’s not the best person– not the most comforting to be around– but he knows, by being an older brother, by being someone people want to be around, he knows how to make it count when he does give in to comfort.

He just wishes he didn’t feel so goddamned depressed himself, so he would know the right things to say. He doesn’t want to be so useless all the time.

“Mikey?” You voice is timid. Small.

He feels both elated that you would trust him with this, and devastated that he’ll never be good enough to deserve your trust.

“Yeah, Birdie?”

“It’s so juvenile, but I…" You shake your head and decide to commit to it. "I wish I was pretty."

“Is that it?” Michael’s arm wraps around your shoulder as he squishes onto the seat of the table, next to you. “You think you’re ugly, huh?”

“I don’t think I’m–” You inhale deeply, and wipe away your tears again. “It’s not about being ugly. It’s more like an objective reality that I have to accept. I’m just not… I’m not anything special to look at.”

“Wow, kid.” Michael tuts and shakes his head. “Ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? That stupid fucking mantra, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s true.” Michael almost starts laughing, but you look so solemn and serious, he resists the urge. “You’re not ugly. You might not think you’re all that, but you don’t see what I see.”

Michael tenses, and you watch as he falters over how to explain.

Michael thinks you're so damn annoying with that ardent, sweet expression– even if your tears are staining your face, you still look so grateful to hear him say those words– and it just crushes him. It crushes him to know that you look for his approval so much, when he knows you're worth so much more than that.

He doesn't want to let you down. You and Carmen– he will never be enough for the two of you.

"I don't– I'm fucking stupid, Birdie, don't listen to me." He swallows, but you're hanging onto his words and your face falls again.

"But I can listen to you get all poetic about Claire, right?" You mutter, angry, and you get up to leave– but Michael grabs your forearm, and he's quite a bit stronger than you are.

“Hey. That’s different.” Michael tries, but you shake your head, and you’re left sitting on the table again. “I was only teasing Bear. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know.” You turn even more glum, and Michael is left feeling terrible, wondering what was so wrong with what he said.

You’re silent for a moment– you know that you like Carmy, but something about telling Michael about it feels weird, like you’re pre-emptively rejecting him rather than Carmy by confessing feelings that are slowly disappearing– and you just don’t want to.

But you know you need to. You need to accept that Carmy would never see you that way.

“I just… for a really long time, I thought that I…” You fall to silence, again, and Michael is staring at you, hanging onto every word, watching your side profile shake as you try to gather your thoughts. “I really liked him, you know? I don’t even know why– maybe he was just the clearly available, safe option, and now that’s not even true and I feel like I’m mourning something that was never even real. How stupid and childish can I get?”

“Wait, Birdie–”

“And I just… I know I’m not like Claire. I don’t know what I got myself into. I don’t even really like him anymore– it’s just that the situation makes it so damn apparent that I am just average.” You huff out your words with an air of finality that even has Michael flinching a little, and he runs his hands through his hair, unbelieving of what you’ve said. “You can’t even say I’m not, Mikey, because I know how you talked about her and it was just so different to how anyone here has ever thought about me.”

“Birdie, shut the fuck up.” Michael breathes out really heavily, pinching his brows, thinking that he regrets everything he said and he wishes he could take it back. “I didn’t really– I was trying to tease Carmy, you know? It didn’t mean the shit you think it does. Hell, I would be way more serious if I was talking about you.”

He takes a beat of silence– should he read your reaction to that, or keep going? And he decides to keep going.

“You can’t just act like you can read everyone’s minds because you’re a lawyer, Birdie.” Michael says it with a slightly lighter tone, and his hand traces the small of your back as you lean against your knees, staring up at him. “Didn’t you learn about intent or whatever the fuck it was? In school?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You admit despite yourself, and Michael smiles but continues seriously.

“I don’t think that about Claire, okay? If anything, I’m fucking embarrassed you heard me talk all of that shit– that was just meant to be, uh, guy talk. I swear.” Michael swallows, feeling guilty that he still had to be so low about it. “I don’t– I care so much about him, I just went too far in working him up. I think it would be a good thing for him, right?”

Hurt flashes across your face– you still don’t think you like Carmy anymore, you just don’t know how to feel about someone else being portrayed as a “good thing.” But you inhale– you know part of getting over it is having to accept this, and you let yourself think and then nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I could see that.” You agree, and it doesn’t hurt as much since Michael is looking at you sympathetically. “I just… I want to be a good thing, too. Not for Carmy, just…”

“For someone?” Michael answers as you trail off.

“Yeah.”

“Listen, Birdie. I’m gonna tell you something you gotta hear.” Michael has that determined look where you know he’s going to say something smart– he has his fleeting moments of wisdom even if he doesn’t believe in himself– and he goes for it. “I can’t believe no one has ever told you just to, I don’t know, fucking love yourself a little? Like, c’mon, you should be able to like yourself! You’re an incredible person and you deserve– you have the right to be insanely fucking confident and it’s so fucking annoying that you don’t see it.”

In the heat of his argument, Michael’s come too close again, and he can feel your breath on somewhere near his jaw or neck, and he has to remind himself to pull away again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and Michael combs back a strand of your hair.

“Don’t be sorry. Just listen to what I’m saying.” Michael inhales, thinks over why he can’t do this himself– Tina always tells him to be a little easier on himself, but he just struggles– and he thinks that you look terribly cute so it’s just a lot easier to root for you. “Don’t do it for some idiot guy who will never really appreciate you, little Birdie.”

You can feel the conclusion of that sentence, even if Michael doesn’t quite say it: do it for yourself. Be there for yourself. Listen to the good part of yourself, rather than him.

“Oh. I guess that’s…” You swallow, taking it in, knowing the value of his words. “It’s true.”

“See? You know it.” Michael leans in a little too close again, his face a mere breadth away from your own.

“I think you’d actually make a fantastic lawyer.” You slyly comment amid wiping your face, and Michael blinks and then laughs.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d get to see me and hear my advice all the time.” Michael mumbles a little over his words but to his surprise, you nod.

“Yeah, then I’d get to see some idiot who really does appreciate me.” You murmur even more quietly, and Michael, feeling stupid, has a wistful smile on his face that he maybe has not felt in a decade. It’s so sweet– he thinks his heart is bursting with something.

Maybe love. Maybe that jovial, Christmas spirit that seems to emanate as the food smells closer to ready, maybe what Carmen gave him as a kind gift, most likely the closeness he feels with you– not just being close in familiarity, more like– he can make out the little spots and freckles adorning your face, every single eyelash your still watery eyes have, the faint lines in your still-red lips, and it occurs to him that he’s too close. Somewhere during this talk, his hand has stayed around your back, and you have been tentatively tracing his right hand’s knuckles with your own thumb.

Michael knows how it looks. If anyone was to walk in right now (and he’s sure Michelle or Richie have already put it together that the two of you have been gone for a while) they would assume you two are a couple.

He has a sudden air of regret– it’s not because he wants to reject you, he just… he struggles a lot with feeling wanted. He struggles with the standards that people seem to put on him. Michael has always known he’s not a good guy– he doesn’t know how to be the person that everyone seems to think he is. Carmen, Natalie, Richie, you– you all seem to think the best of him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He nearly had a breakdown watching Carmen look up to him so lovingly.

Before he can pull away– with another responsible refusal, telling you that he’s too old and washed up, and that you deserve the whole world and he is not enough to offer that to you– you gently but firmly grab his face, tracing his cheek, and he thinks it could be wrong– what if you’re just feeling all confused and willy-nilly about feelings because you’re displacing what you felt about Carmen, what if you don’t actually like him and you’re assuming that you do because of his clear attraction to you, what if you’re just feeling the moment and the sweet guidance he’s given you?

Tons of questions seem to flow from his mind, things that he wants to ask you, but Michael thinks fuck it, because you’re leaning in first and pulling him in and it’s something he would’ve never expected in a million years, that you could be just as attracted to him.

He kisses you maybe a little too hard– maybe it should’ve been softer, more gentle since you’ve opened up to him so much, but you kiss him just as eagerly back, and he doesn’t fucking care to be gentle anymore. He’s leaning over you and Michael knows he’s quite a bit taller, so he has to pull you upwards to really reach your lips, and the table the two of you are sitting on is quite small– it shakes a little and there’s not much room for Michael to really feel you.

Until you climb into his lap, because of course you do, and now you’re just tangling your fingers in his hair, and he thinks he can feel whatever migraine that the day’s events have spurred on him slipping away, and his hands wrap around the smallest part of your waist as he pulls you in, pressing his chest against yours.

You feel like Michael’s beard tickles a little– but you don’t mind that. You weren’t sure until you did it that you’ve wanted to kiss him for a while. You feel like maybe you’ve actually been more attracted to him than you ever were with Carmy, maybe even just going for Carmy due to his aforementioned security.

Michael groans, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you sharply inhale as his tongue roams around your own, and he knows he likes hearing you gasp when his hands come up under your sweater, just to feel your bare skin, and you pull away.

Michael comes in too close again, placing a soft yet firm kiss on the corner of your mouth, and you laugh at him, and it’s one of the best sounds he could hear. No longer are you all gloomy and sullen in the corner of the room– but there’s still an air of heat around you two, and he knows he should let you go before things go too far.

“Consider that a Christmas present.” You murmur softly, tapping his face, genuinely smiling despite the smeared lipstick, and you clamber off his lap, and peek out the pantry. “I think you’re good to go eat dinner– let me just…”

You wipe the red lipstick from his mouth using the corner of your sweater sleeve, so not to leave evidence, and it’s an intimate moment that has Michael staring at your hand, to your eyes, and there’s something in his eyes– maybe sorrow, maybe appreciation, but most of all, tenderness, and he takes a silly, soft moment to just kiss your hand. You beam at him.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” You tease him, because you know that Michael has always had that look, and he stiffens for a moment.

“Ah… maybe around when you came back from graduating college.” Michael admits, feeling weirdly high and low all at the same time, but he questions you too. “What about you? Don’t tell me you just decided to kiss me right now. That would fucking… that would be too much.”

His heart falls for a split second– thinking about how again you could’ve just been having a little fling– why would you ever like him? He struggles to think how you could, even after having kissed you.

“No, no. I swear it’s not like that.” You turn a little red and play with your hands. “Um. You’re not like a rebound, Mikey, I just… I think I liked you ever since I started coming around more, maybe around last year? I probably just didn’t notice because I thought I was into Carmy. You know? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Michael tries not to let the relief show through his face too much. “I thought maybe I was… reading too much into it. Putting pressure on you.”

“No, you’re good.” You shake off his concerns. “I don’t think that at all. I really do like you… might’ve just been obsessed with the idea of a childhood friend turning into a lover.”

Michael grins. “Well, who’s to say that didn’t fucking happen, Birdie? Are we not childhood friends?”

“Eh… kind of. You’re a bit old.” You give him a so-so motion, and Michael jokingly pushes you a little. “I’m kidding! This is more like– your friend’s hot older brother gives you a chance and it’s crazy and exciting and you just want to know more.”

You were half kidding, but you’re so honest about it, and Michael loves it, but there’s still that undercurrent of agony– he wants to just openly like you, too, but he doesn’t want to be such a fucking failure about it.

“I’m gonna just head to the dining table, I think.” You check your watch. “Gotta go think about this a little more– is that okay? Not in a bad way, I’m just overwhelmed with everything that’s happened today…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s okay, Birdie.” Michael presses a kiss into your hairline. He knows it is a lot for anyone to handle– getting over a crush you thought you had, realizing that you like someone else– he gets it. “Take all the time you need.”

“Okay.” You smile eagerly at him and then walk outside through the hallway, wiping your mouth so it looks less kiss-stained, and peek around so no one is looking at you.

Michael feels a million emotions hit him at once, and he knows he has to cool himself down before explaining to everyone where you’ve gone, what’s happened– or he’s certain to implicate himself, and he can’t have that.

It all goes to shit not even twenty minutes later.

You’re sitting pretty between Richie and Tiff, who seem to be a little bit… awkward, maybe arguing mentally about something you don’t completely understand. No one has really commented on your disappearance, but you’re sure it’s obvious based on how Michelle and Stevie are whispering and smiling at you.

Michael gets a massive, depressive episode right after you’ve left him. He can’t exactly pinpoint why– he feels like a creep even if he isn’t one. Hell, he only actually met you when you were nineteen– he was in a different state when you started visiting the Berzattos. But even if Michael ignores his potential, old-man creepiness… he also feels like you’re headed for so much more than he ever was, and he knows he’s holding you back if he does this.

For once in his life, he just wanted to be happy. He just wanted to be wanted without the stigma of not being good enough.

You, Carmy, and Nat. He knows you guys are on your way. Michael feels a pit in his stomach as he imagines why you guys all have to look up to him so much– he just happened to be in the right place, at the right time.

He can’t ignore the feeling that he is just a major fucking loser.

That’s why Michael goes and gets high. He knows he’s making a mistake, and he doesn’t want to do something so disappointing– but he figures he’s already a disappointment anyways. He’s grateful you’re not here outside to see how pathetic he really is– how much he craves a hit just to feel a little less shitty. And yes, it calms him down as he feels the high of the painkillers exacerbate positive memories, like with you, Carmy, Natalie– but it still makes his anger, his depressive tendencies strong, too.

When he sits down at the dining table– he’s not that intoxicated, but he knows it’s a little apparent on his face, based on the mild alarm on your own. You’re sitting just far enough from him for there to be plausible deniability, but still– you are worried about him.

“You good?” You mouth, and he waves away your question with an air of fake nonchalance.

You don’t look convinced. You can see the red in Michael’s eyes, the general tension in his shoulders, the unnerving sense of resentment in his expression. You wonder what could have happened in the last ten minutes that you’ve been sitting at the table, why Michael decided to go and get intoxicated just minutes after kissing you.

Were you too much for him? Maybe.

You know Michael gets high. In fact, last Easter, you’re pretty sure he spent the entire time high on something– but you only vaguely know about his anger flare ups. About his negative emotions, the supposed depressive periods he goes through. You’ve seen him argue a bit with Richie, you know he’s gotten a bit harsh with Carmy, but you know he’s a bit more troubled than that. The whole family seems a bit troubled. Natalie has told you that much, and you have your experience with that– your mother and father’s fights are ones that still make you quiver to think about. But with Michael?

You don’t know how much you believed it, until now, because Michael always seemed kind of… like he always had the right thing to say. You almost feel like he’s in the right to get upset, because he’s had a hard time, with his family, some of his luck surrounding his career– especially with how Lee continually riles him up.

The table is formal and nice for a bit. Michael and Tiff converse about something, Carmy asks if you’re okay and you mostly are. Michelle asks Mikey to say grace, and he sounds resentful, again, of Lee cutting him off so often.

Cicero, being the responsible uncle that he is, tries to push off grace to Stevie, who promptly rejects it, and Michelle decides to ease the tension by asking what the hell the seven fishes are all about. Lee, of course, gleefully answers, about the dutch potatoes and the bible.

Michael glares at him and throws a fork. A real, honest-to-god, heavy piece of silverware. It clatters on the carpeted floor– you feel yourself flinch, and you watch Natalie and Pete’s expressions crumble into the realization that Michael is not okay, and everyone seems to look towards him in fear.

“You see what you did, right? You already did that. You already bitched about the dutch oven.” Michael retorts at him, not completely coherent, and you can feel the lights glazing over– the Christmas tree, the wreaths and baubles, everything seems to lose focus in comparison to the red-hot anger that Michael is bubbling over with.

Cicero and Carmy try to call him off, but Michael isn’t listening, and you can tell– he’s in a place to be upset. It’s like a slowly proceeding car crash– as much as you don’t want him to do it, you understand why he’s going to. You feel like there is a bit of a double standard in place here– Cicero seems to want him to respect his elders, and Michael is being kind of childish, but you can’t say you don’t understand why.

Michael asks for Fak’s fork, in direct opposition to Lee’s attempts to play the father in this house. Despite Fak’s insistent refusals, Michael successfully takes it. Everyone speaks with the intent to stop him, and he’s too focused on Lee to stop.

You know you hate Lee too. But such a severe reaction, coming from Michael? It has you wincing a little. You want to pull him away– tell him to be the nice older brother you’ve always known him to be– but you know it takes time. You know it’s probably going to get worse. You try to catch his eye– and he can't quite look at you.

You have faith in him. You know Michael can do better than this– you just hope he can see it, too.

Michael throws the second fork, and you feel regret in trusting him, again, because he’s making things bad but it’s almost as if he can’t help it. You catch Natalie’s eyes– she’s clearly disappointed, too.

Michael feels a sick sense of pleasure, as he often does when it comes to acting out his worst desires. But he feels a flash of anger with himself– is that what he did with you? Is he really this guy? He thinks that he is, he is a bad dude and he can commit to that role if that’s what’s needed.

“Cousin, you’re scaring the normals.” Richie tries, looking at Tiff and you, but you’re still yearning to catch his glance– and Michael can only respond that it’s nothing, everything is fine, and you’re suddenly reminded of when your parents used to fight and how you used to have to be the middle man and convince them that things were alright.

Michael looks towards you this time– but you’re not looking at him. You have your hands neatly clasped in your lap, your eyes are focused on the set of candles in the middle of the table, and you look horribly upset, with your neck all tense as you wait for things to blow over, and he can tell– he’s fucking up big time. Stevie, Carmy, everyone is looking pained, and Michael can only think that he doesn’t give a shit. He wants to make Lee feel just as terrible as he does.

"You see– I can throw forks because this is our father’s house." Michael scoffs back, and there's real agony in his tone. “My father’s house.”

Michelle inhales. “We have lift-off.”

“Okay, you got everyone's attention, so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.” Lee spits out, barely holding back his own contempt for Michael, and Michael starts laughing as if everything’s alright. “Tell a story about how you're living with your mom and you're borrowing money off of her and any other sucker who'll listen to your bullshit.”

Everyone looks towards the table, feeling terribly awkward about Lee’s accusations– it’s not that it’s necessarily untrue, but there’s a hefty amount of his own assumptions, his own bias thrown in there, and you want to speak up.

“Lee, shut the fuck up.” Cicero looks absolutely pissed off at him, and you’re grateful someone has taken some of the heat off of Michael. It’s Lee’s fault, too.

“I’m sorry. I told you not to be a sucker, Jimmy.” Lee comments, and Cicero exhales, exasperated.

“Lee. That’s not really fair– you’re being too hard on him.” You utter through gritted teeth, and Lee’s eyes narrow on you. It's the first time you've spoken, and Michael glances at you– his eyes are bright and he genuinely looks sorry. Sorry he had to go this far.

“Oh, am I? Really, Birdie? I would suggest I’m not being hard enough.” Lee raises his hands, invites you to speak more, and you know that it’s not really your place to do so, especially because Lee and Michael seem to have a lot of history.

But you have your almost-lawyer tendencies, and of course you’re not exactly unbiased either, because you want to see the best in Michael– you want to like him.

"Please, Lee… Michael's working on himself. You don't need to lie to him." You stare at him, and Lee’s face seems to turn darker with that. “I’m sure we all have our issues… it feels like a lot.”

"Is that what he's told you, Birdie?" Lee sneers at you, and you suddenly feel small. "He's a sick, fucking twisted man, and you would trust him, wouldn't you?"

He doesn’t go further than that– but it’s enough that you feel humiliated for being read so thoroughly. It’s obvious what he’s implying– you’re a silly little girl who doesn’t know any better.

“It's fine. It's fine. Because this guy's nothing and he's nobody.” Lee points at Michael again, and his expression sours so much. You watch as Michael seems to zero in on what Lee’s rambling on about.

Natalie shakes her head in little no-no motions.

“Hey… Petey… I just need to, uh… I need to borrow this for one second.” Michael’s got that nonchalant expression again, but there’s pain in his eyes, and there’s a clamour of everyone again telling Michael to stop, calling his name, trying to distract him.

"Michael. Michael. Please don’t do this. Hey. Hey. Hey!" Natalie calls at him, and you know she's just begging for him to leave it alone. “I love you. Okay?”

You watch as Michael, holding the fork, just holding it, clear malicious intent in his eyes, tension building in the air and you feel a little sick, but his eyes are watering and he clearly doesn’t want to do what he thinks he has to.

“I love you too, Sug.” Michael says honestly.

Stevie giggles, Cicero de-escalates things further, and you think you see the light at the end of the tunnel, if not for the fact that Michael is still holding the fork. Still standing up, taunting him, acting like a big old child as Carmy rebukes him– and it’s really just two grown men beginning to get all macho and toxic about who’s tougher, who’s really the man of the house, and they start screeching at each other and you watch as Michael’s eyes glaze over with something, with Lee’s final insult that “he’s nothing.”

You watch as Michael takes his seat. He seems ambivalent, hard to read– he’s not meeting anyone’s eyes and you feel terrible about it.

Donna comes in and takes her seat– she seems rather drunk, too, and the last thing you need is more evidence that substance abuse is a bad thing– and Stevie starts the most wonderful prayer that still isn’t enough to dissuade Michael. You catch his gaze– he’s mulling over something, his eyes are watery, and you want to go over there and talk him down, even if that idea is unwise.

Donna cries over the prayer, and Natalie commits the most cardinal sin that she could at this moment: she asks if she’s okay.

You flinch with recognition as Donna starts screaming at her, about how she is okay and could a person who isn’t okay make such a gorgeous meal, and she exits the room in visible anger, and Natalie begins to hyperventilate, while Michelle tries to calm everyone down.

Donna throws a plate down on the floor, and exits the room continuing to scream– and there’s a beat of tense silence, full of angst and what-nows, and Lee decides to take initiative breaking that silence with a silly joke– almost in a paternal role, again, a hot topic between him and Mikey– and you watch Michael’s eyes start narrowing as he leans against his hand.

Michael throws the third fork.

It’s like every single nerve you felt, every bit of tension that was already in place, comes to a head as Michael starts going batshit, trying his best to attack Lee, while the Fak brothers and Richie are between them, and you can barely think straight as everyone starts screaming at each other.

Tiff almost gets dragged into the chaos, and you're left shielding and comforting her from the fight. Pete and Richie hold Michael off and you're thankful– the last thing you want is to go up in there and get caught in the crossfire yourself. It’s genuinely a blur– you have no idea how bad things are getting until Cicero starts telling them to get the fuck out.

Suddenly, the wall of the living room bursts inwards, the Christmas tree getting dragged in the crossfire, and you realize with shock that someone’s driven a car inside.

Not just any car– that’s Donna in there, driving, and you think for a moment she’s dead. You can’t believe what’s happening– you can feel your heart hammering through your chest.

Michael runs towards the car, tries to open the front door, yelling and asking her what she did, asking her to open the door. She stirs a little.

Everyone else is standing there, in shock, not focusing properly on what to do, and you pull yourself away from the crowd of people, as they stare on in horror. You don’t want to be a part of this, but you are, and you know what a responsible adult would do.

You go outside, into the December night’s cold air, and call 911. Specify for the firefighters and ambulances, because Cicero has a big thing against narcs and cops and you’re not getting into that right now.

Even though you’re freezing, and that’s what you should be focusing on? You’re in an incredible amount of despair because of what’s taken place. You hang up the call and feel exhausted by everything that’s happened, and you wonder if Michael really knows better. If he can be more than this. It’s not something you’re judging him for– but you feel terrible about his circumstances and you want him to get out of there.

Worse, you can’t help but feel a little upset with him. Because you know that Michael didn’t have to stoop that low– he chose to, and that’s what bothers you the most. He let his emotional responses dictate how he was going to act, and you know it’s hard to not be so provoked in this environment, but still: you are concerned and upset with him, and you know you need to take a step back. As much as it hurts you to stay away, you feel like it’s going to hurt even more if you intentionally stay around.

You wait for the ambulance and fire trucks to show up– you take a minute to direct them through the house, and then you trust that someone else has got it from there. Carmy, Natalie, Michelle, Stevie– they’ve got each other, they’re whispering about something, and you know where you’re not needed.

You grab your coat and leave, leave as silently as you can without interrupting everything that’s going on. It’s an strange walk home– ten minutes of you thinking about everything.

You hope next Christmas will be better.

Michael comes down from his high hard. Someone’s wrapped a blanket around him, and he’s sitting on the front porch’s staircase, wondering what the hell is going on. Donna’s apparently been taken to the hospital– and there’s a makeshift tarp where the wall has been crashed in. Everyone has gone home.

Where did you go? He has a moment of panic. Are you okay? Did he fuck it up that badly? That you would leave without saying goodbye? Michael can picture the disappointment on your face, and he wishes– he really wishes he was someone else.

He’s stressing really hard, his eyes are beginning to tear up. God, he knew he wasn’t really worthy of your attention– you’re young still, you have the whole world ahead of you– and he wonders if he can apologize. He wonders what he could possibly say to make it right. After such an insane situation, he can’t even blame you for taking off.

Natalie tells him, kind sister that she is, that you were the one to call emergency services. Of course you were– you have a strong head on your shoulders and Michael feels strongly that his family is in debt to you. And then you headed home, but Natalie doesn’t know why.

He does have your number. But he’s not going to call you, not right now– he’s not going to make a bigger mistake and fuck things up further.

Michael sighs, and leans back. He doesn’t deserve to be happy.

1K notes · View notes

piedinthepiper · 3 months

Text

You owe me (pt. 2) ☆

Mafia!Jungkook x psychologist!reader x mafia!Taehyung (slightly)

Summary: His efforts seem pointless. But when it comes to jealousy, anger and you, he just can’t help himself. And neither can you.

Warnings: yandere!Jungkook, dubcon, stalking?, breaking and entering, mention of murder, mention of other types of crimes, angst, weapons (a knife), cursing, male m, descriptive smut, angst

Wc: 7.4k

A/n: Thank you guys so much for all the feedback on this fic. Since so many wanted a part 2 I made a part 2! Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

Parts: | 1 | 2 |

Your back felt a sudden relief as you finally laid down in bed. It had been a long day. A very long day. A new patient took up almost all you time. Taehyung Kim. He was being charged with robbery and murder, and his lawyer had hired you to potentially give him a diagnosis that could help him in court.

You had to assign some of your other patients to a few of your coworkers, just to make time for him. But this is what you love doing. You wanted to help. Especially now, after what you learned about your entire career. You wanted to prove yourself. You knew you were good.

You turned off you lights and put your phone on the nightstand. Finally you were in the comfort of your own bed. Ready to fall asleep and dream the night away. Trying not to think about how early you had to wake up tomorrow. You had finally found a comfortable sleeping position after squirming around a bit. You felt all your muscles relax, starting to recognise the slow fade of sleep.

But suddenly a loud noice filled the room. Your body tensed again, jumping at the sudden sound. You rolled your eyes as you turned around, annoyed at yourself that you forgot to turn on ‘do not disturb’. Your phone screen lit up in your face, you squinted at the bright light hitting your eyes. You managed to decipher a message from an unknown number. You didn’t open it, writing a mental note to check it out tomorrow. If it was one of your patients they would have to wait until the morning. It was almost unprofessional to answer a text at 1 am.

You entered the doors to your workplace, expecting to see Erin behind the counter smiling at you.

“Good morning, Erin.”

You said like you always do. You halted once you saw her sitting there, not smiling, not saying anything. She just looked at you with a concerning look. Before you could ask her what’s wrong you looked over at the waiting chairs. You had seen a person in your peripheral view, something that was odd considering the office wasn’t even open to patients yet. You quickly understood what was going on once you saw who was sitting there.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

His familiar voice filled the dead quiet room. It had almost been a year since you last saw him. He had not contacted you after the incident in your office. You had almost, almost, forgotten him. But there he was, looking the exact same as you remembered him.

“Mr. Jeon.”

You stated. Not really knowing what to say. You were caught off guard by the whole situation. Some naive part of you thought that he had gotten what he wanted and would leave you alone. Forever.

“I thought you had stopped calling me that. Aren’t we more intimate at this point?”

You sighed at his question. Looking over at Erin for a second to see if she understood what he meant.

“He said he wanted to see you. I told him we wer-“

“It’s fine Erin, Mr. Jeon can be quite persuasive.”

You interrupted her as she started to apologise for letting him in. You looked back to him. His classic smirk was plastered on his face.

“I have an hour before my first patient arrives.”

You said and looked quickly at your wristwatch, before starting to walk down the hall towards your office. You heard his footsteps following behind you.

Once inside your office you took off your jacket and hung it up before sitting down behind your desk. He was quick to sit down on the sofa. A sense of deja vu washed over you.

“Why are you here, Jungkook?”

He looked confused by your question.

“You didn’t see my messages? Or my voicemails?”

It was your turn to look confused, as you couldn’t remember getting any texts or calls from him.

“Maybe you were asleep, I don’t know.”

He shrugged. You remembered the message from last night. The one you didn’t bother to read. You picked your phone up from your bag, turning off ‘do not disturb’. Hundreds of notifications from the same number appeared on your lock screen.

“You were the one that messaged me last night?”

You asked as you opened your phone.

“So you did read them?”

He asked in excitement. You shook your head at his question, too focused on your phone. You opened iMessage and hit the top notification. A series of long paragraphs of text appeared.

“I didn’t think it was you.”

You mumbled as you scrolled upwards trying to get to the start of what he had sent you.

“Listen, I’ll just tell you. It feels weird to watch you read something I poured my heart into.”

You looked up at him, before you put the phone down on your desk. Crossing your arms over your chest.

“Be quick.”

He thought for a second about where to start and what the most important things to tell you were.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m ready now.”

The room went quiet as you waited for him to continue. He didn’t.

“What are you talking about?”

You asked confused.

“That’s the brief version of it. You told me to be quick.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“I think I need a little more than that.”

He smiled at you like a child telling a joke for the first time. He leaned slightly forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve seen another psychologist. He’s helped me a lot. I’m doing well, I’m not some self absorbed dick, I’m not so angry anymore. And I’ve gotten to know your father as well. I’ve done my end of the promise, now it’s your turn, y/n.”

He got serious at the last sentence. Shifting his eyes from the innocent doe, to the man you remembered from your last meeting.

“You went to my father?”

You asked in shock, not caring for whatever he said after that.

“Yeah. Might as well get to know my future father-in-law a little better while I fulfilled my promise.”

You let your head fall down to your hands, and let out a long sigh. Visibly showing him that you were upset.

“I’m happy you’re doing better, I really am. But I did not promise you anything. Definitely not to marry you.”

His eyes changed again. You could tell he was upset.

“Don’t you think you owe me that?”

He asked slyly, cocking his head slightly to the side. You shook your head.

“You can’t hold that over my head forever. It’s not fair!”

You answered strictly.

“I’m not holding it over your head, baby. I’m asking you.”

“Well, then my answer is no. I don’t owe you shit. Now get out of my office.”

You answered quickly. Wanting him to leave so you didn’t get too upset, and started making bad decisions again.

“We don’t have to get married right away, or not at all if you just want to be my girlfriend.”

He offered. You suddenly stood up from your chair, pointing angrily towards the door.

“Out.”

You said.

“I don’t care if I owe you. I don’t care if you’ve gotten better. You’re still a mobster, you’re still a murderer and you’re still a sociopath. I could never date you. I could never even be friends with you. Don’t you understand?”

You ranted when he didn’t leave the sofa. He shook his head and kept his eyes on the floor.

“It’s him isn’t it?”

He asked, still not looking up at you. He was frightening like that. You felt the same fear, you felt the first time he talked to you like that. He was showing his true colours.

“Who?”

You asked carefully as you sat back down again. He looked up at you with anger and jealousy in his eyes.

“Your new patient. The jailbird, you spend a lot of time with him.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, and? He’s nothing but my patient.”

“Are you sure? I’ve seen him on the news, he’s quite attractive. Just your type.”

You scoffed and gave him an offended look.

“Yes I’m sure. Who are you to accuse me of having an affair with a patient?”

“Because you had one with me.”

You sighed.

“We did not have an affair.”

You stated, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“Then what do you call it?”

The room got quiet. To be honest you never thought about what you would call it. You didn’t want to think about it at all. It went against everything you stood for.

“Please, just leave.”

You said, you felt your eyes getting watery for some reason. Maybe it was because you were scared, or surprised. Or maybe even sad to see him again.

“I can tell you’re upset. We still need to work things out. Can we talk sometime? Not here, somewhere not so formal.”

You looked up at him again. His eyes were soft, he seemed to really care that you were affected negatively by this. For some reason you found it endearing.

“You can come to my place, we can talk and-“

“There’s no way I’m voluntarily going to your place.”

You interrupted him. He looked down in defeat for a few seconds.

“Please, y/n. I just want to show you that I’m better. I want to show you all I’ve done for you. I don’t want to argue with you.”

He said softly. His eyes were also teary now. You hated yourself for getting affected by his feelings. You hated that you thought this was a tender moment.

“Do you promise that we’ll only be talking?”

You asked. Not knowing why you were agreeing to this in the first place. Maybe you were naive, but it seemed that he actually had changed. Even if he still was delusional and obsessive.

“Of course, I would never do anything to harm you. I love you.”

He said, slightly excited. The room got quiet once again. You had silently agreed to meet him at his place.

“I’ll send you the address. I’ll see you on Thursday.”

He said, before getting up and walking out the door.

“Wait-“

You tried to say, but he was already gone. You wouldn’t be able to make it on Thursday.

You sat down at the table, waiting for the guards to bring in Mr. Kim. This week had been stressful. Not only because of your case with Mr. Kim, but also because of all your other patients. It was hard having time for them while handling such a big case as his. You had to work overtime the entire week, and you were exhausted.

“Good afternoon, y/n.”

He said as two guards brought him in. He had learned your first name quickly, and refused to use your title or last name.

“Hello, Mr. Kim. How are you?”

He smiled, and waited to answer until the guards had chained his legs to the table and left the room. You never felt unsafe being alone with him, even if he was a convicted murderer. His hands were always handcuffed, the same with his legs, so he couldn’t reach you. You knew the guards watched you from outside the big tinted glass. It allowed you to lower your guard, and treat him like you treat your other patients.

“I’m doing amazing now that you’re here.”

He said and smirked. Like Jungkook said, he was attractive. His hair was always combed back, and the all grey clothing actually suited him. He had some kind of lightning tattoo that went up his neck, due to his clothing you didn’t know if he had any more of them.

“How are you, sweetheart?”

He asked back. Still keeping intense eye contact with you.

“We did talk about not calling me anything but my name, do you remember that?”

You asked him strictly. He chuckled.

“It’s hard not to call you something you are, don’t you like compliments?”

You started taking off your coat. It was cold when you entered, but with two people in the little room it was too warm to keep your wool coat on.

“We’re not here to talk about me. I’ve given you permission to use my first name, that’s all.”

You said as you draped the coat over your chair. You looked back at him, he wasn’t looking you in your eyes anymore. This time his eyes were focused on your exposed cleavage. You hadn’t worn low cut tops with him yet, only oversized jumpers due to the weather. You suddenly became very aware of yourself and pulled your top up, trying to hide more of your cleavage. His eyes went back to your face, and you decided that you would wear something less revealing next time.

“Whatever you say, y/n.”

He put extra pressure on your name this time. You gave him a small smile, before you looked down at your notes.

“Why don’t we start were we ended things? Do you remember what I told you I wanted us to talk about?”

He sighed, but nodded.

“My teenage years?”

He asked. You nodded back at him.

“I was a good teenager, I didn’t do drugs, I came home before my curfew, did well in school.”

He memorised.

“But I did like girls. I really did. It was my weakness.”

He said, quickly flickering his eyes down to your cleavage again.

“Why do you say it was your weakness?”

You asked, writing it down in your notes. He started smirking again.

“Since I was such a good teenager, I stayed home a lot. After I did my homework or studied for tests I didn’t have anything to do. Until I found porn.”

He let out a groan, almost like he was in pleasure just by the thought.

“I would spend all day just jerking off to random girls online. Whenever I saw a pretty girl outside I would go straight home and jerk off to her too.”

You felt yourself getting a bit uncomfortable at his bluntness, but didn’t say anything to let him continue. You focused on your notes instead.

“It would take up my entire day, I felt crazy at times. And now that I don’t have anything to do, I find myself doing the same in my cell.”

You nodded, still looking down at your notes. Not wanting to look at him while he talked about something so intimate.

“But the only one I can think about is you.”

He said almost as if he was out of breath. You finally looked at him. And saw that one of his hands had slid under the waistband of his trousers.

“Come over here and sit on me, baby.”

He moaned. You didn’t know what to do or say, you froze. The door opened and two guards came in.

“No- please! Y/n! Please fuck me! I need you. I fucking need you so bad!”

He yelled as he was practically carried out of the room. You sat there speechless, in the now empty room.

“I think it’s best for him to have a male psychologist, I can no longer treat him.”

You called Mr. Kim’s lawyer the minute you sat down in your car. You told him what had happened.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.”

He said back.

“I’ll send all my notes to the man you’ll appoint.”

“Thank you for your help, Dr. Y/l/n.”

You said a small goodbye, before you hung up. While you were driving home you started to think about what happened today. You felt useless and it felt unfair. Why did you have to end up in all kinds of mess. First it was Jungkook, and now Mr. Kim.

Jungkook. You had completely forgot that you were supposed to meet him today. You sighed. Meeting him was the last thing you wanted to do. Maybe it was better to just say you forgot if he contacts you again. Since your session ended earlier than expected, you would actually have time to eat a proper meal and go to bed at a reasonable time. And with Mr. Kim’s case being transferred to someone else, you could finally use all your time on your normal patients. Even if the day had been horrible, you still had a massive weight lifted off your shoulders.

You walked up to your door, struggling with your keys to find the right one. Once you found it you put it in the keyhole and twisted, hearing the familiar click. You reached for the door handle and attempted to open it. But it didn’t budge. Did you not lock your door this morning? You twisted the key the other way again, and thought that it must be the exhaustion taking a toll on you.

When you finally were inside your own house you took off your coat and hung it up with your bag. You took off your shoes and looked at yourself in the big mirror you have in your hallway. You looked down at the white low cut top. It wasn’t even that low, but a part of your cleavage did show. In what felt like a fit of rage you took it off yourself. Hurriedly lifting it over your head and throwing it on the floor. You never wanted to wear that top again. You stormed over to the kitchen. You needed something to drink, you were so thirsty. So thirsty that you failed to notice the man sitting in your sofa. You swung the fridge door open, grabbing a carton of orange juice and downing what was left of it.

“Rough day?”

A voice emitted. You jumped and your heart started raising. You looked over at the sofa where the voice came from. Jungkook? Jungkook. You quickly ducked down behind the counter, remembering that you were only in your bra.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?!”

You yelled at him. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, you were so confused. What was going on?

“Y/n, calm down! Please.”

You heard him get up from the sofa, taking hasty steps towards you. Your fight or flight instinct kicked in and you suddenly jumped up again and grabbed a knife. Pointing it towards him. He quickly halted, putting his hands slightly up in front of him.

“Come on, it’s just me.”

He said, leaning his head to the side.

“Exactly!”

You said, slowly moving away from him.

“Why are you here? How did you get in?”

You yelled at him, firmly holding the knife between the two of you.

“Baby, please calm down.”

“How can I calm down?! You broke into my house!”

He sighed, and went quiet for a moment.

“Put the knife down, you know I won’t do anything to you. Please, let’s just talk. That’s why I’m here.”

He said in a calm voice. You shook your head, you felt like you were going to have a panic attack. This was all too much for you. You threw the knife onto the kitchen counter and covered your eyes. You started crying. You were so overwhelmed. From the situation earlier today, to Jungkook suddenly appearing in your life again, to just the pure exhaustion. You needed to cry. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You couldn’t put up the facade you usually do. And suddenly you felt two arms wrapping around you. He hugged you. And for a moment you leaned into it. You felt safe in his arms. It comforted you. It reminded you of when your father hugged you after your first boyfriend broke up with you. It was like knowing that someone cared for you when you felt as if the whole world was against you. Until you remembered who was hugging you. Because it definitely wasn’t your father. And the reality of you standing in just your bra with someone that broke into your house hit.

“Get off of me!”

You suddenly screamed, and started pushing his strong chest. Tears still streaming down your face.

“I hate you! I fucking hate you, Jungkook! My life has been a nightmare since the minute I met you!”

You screamed at him with all your lung capacity. Your throat got immediately sore.

“You’re fucking crazy! And I’m tired of playing your fucking games!”

He took several steps away from you, but you walked after him. Pointing your finger in his face.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you?! How can you be so fucking awful?! You’re an awful person!”

He continued to stay silent through your fit of rage. Letting you ride it out.

“I hate you.”

You said, calming down but still crying.

“I hate you so much.”

You said taking a deep breath. You wiped your tears. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there. Speechless. You adverted your eyes to the floor.

“Please leave. Can you please leave me alone? Please, just-“

You started, continuing to wipe your tears. You had resulted to begging him to leave your life.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jungkook. I can’t.”

He grabbed your chin softly, raising your head up to meat his eyes. He was also crying. He silently kissed you. And you let him, too exhausted to do anything else. He pecked your lips, before walking away. He left you there, all alone in your kitchen. As you heard the door close behind him you fell down to the floor. Continuing to weep.

After a month of silence from your former patient you felt content. It had been a month, and there was no sign of him. Your life had gone back to normal again. It was definitely a good thing to tell him exactly what you meant. This time you had been harsh on him, to make him understand you were definitely not interested.

After three months you started thinking that maybe you had been too harsh on him. Maybe you should’ve eased him out of your life. Not gone all crazy on him. But he didn’t contact you, and you were definitely not going to contact him. So telling him that you were sorry was out of the question.

On the fourth month you thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to contact him. Just to tell him you were sorry for being mean of course. He was really attached to you in his own weird way. Getting rejected by someone you had planned out your entire life with must be hard. What if he had gone back to his old ways? What if your rejection caused him to live in agony? To fall into depression?

On the fifth month you found yourself standing in the lobby of his hotel. If you were going to apologise, you were going to do it in person. That’s way more genuine rather than over a text. You definitely didn’t want to see him again, but anything for a real heartfelt apology!

“I’d like to see Mr. Jeon, is he here?”

You asked before the receptionist could say anything. He smiled at you.

“Is Mr. Jeon expecting you?”

He asked in a costumer support voice. You shook your head.

“No he isn’t.”

You answered short.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you access to his suite if he’s not expecting you.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew you had to lie.

“He’s not expecting me, but I’m his psychologist, ok? I need to talk with him, it’s important.”

You said in your serious voice. Shoving your business card in his face like you were a cop.

“I’m sorry-“

“You will be sorry if you don’t help me out here.”

You hit your palms onto the counter before you. The man slightly jumped at your action.

“Look, I’m not asking for the fucking key to his nightstand, I just want to know his room number for gods sake!”

You were starting to get annoyed at the poor man just trying to do his job. He looked quite frightened at your outburst. He thought for a second, before he nodded.

“717.”

He simply said. You thanked him and hurried over to the elevator. Once you reached his door you stopped yourself. Was this really the right thing to do? Maybe you should just leave, he wasn’t your concern anymore. Why weren’t you happy he was out of your life? Why? Why? Why?! The door suddenly opened, and you were sucked out of your thoughts. A man stood there, a familiar man, but not Jungkook.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

He said with a smirk on his face. He quickly pulled you into a hug. Letting his hands drop dangerously low on your waist. He took a deep inhale of your hair, letting out a small groan. It gave you instantly chills in all the wrong places. You tried pulling away from the incredibly awkward hug, but his grip on you was tight. He decided when the hug ended, but stayed close to you. Resting his hands on your hips.

“Let go of me! What are you doing here?”

You asked him and tried to get som distance from him, pushing at his chest. But his strong grip on your hips didn’t loosen.

“What are you doing here is the real question. A pretty woman like you shouldn’t be in a hotel like this.”

“Get off of me!”

He smirked and leaned in closer to you again. Whispering in your ear.

“Why don’t you come with me to my room? I still can’t get you off my mind, sweetheart.”

Someone cleared their throat loudly next to you. Taehyung reacted immediately. Jungkook. You looked at him, but he didn’t look at you. His eyes were focused on Taehyungs hands, planted on your hips.

“She said ‘get off’.”

He almost growled. Taehyung smiled, but removed his hands. Putting them defensively up in the air.

“Sorry, boss. Just had to catch up with my psychologist. She’s the girl I told you about.”

Taehyung started. You were in shock. They knew each other?

“I know.”

He answered and looked at you for the first time. There was a sort of a melancholy feeling in his eyes.

“You know it all, man. I’ll just-“

“Leave.”

Jungkook finished his sentence for him.

“Yeah, leave. I’ll leave. Nice seeing you again, y/n. We have to meet up sometime.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

You answered quickly, not taking your eyes off Jungkook.

“I won’t take no for an answer, baby.”

Taehyung said and stepped closer to you again.

“Yes you will, now leave.”

Jungkook said strictly.

“Okaaay, I’ll leave. Whatever.”

He said and walked away. You followed Taehyung with your eyes, watching as he disappeared into one of the rooms down the hall. When you looked back at Jungkook, you discovered he had been staring at you the entire time. You felt anger building up inside you.

“Don’t tell me this is what I think it is.”

You said, you almost sounded hurt.

“It’s not like that.”

He answered. You rolled your eyes at him. He didn’t exactly sound convincing. You had no intention of apologising to him anymore.

“Let me guess, you didn’t hire Mr. Kim to ruin my case so I could run back right into your arms? It was just a convenience that you were waiting for me when I came home, right?”

You asked in a sarcastic tone. He went quiet. You scoffed and turned to walk away. He grabbed your arm harshly so you couldn’t leave.

“I didn’t, I promise. Let me explain, please.

You sighed.

“Let me go.”

He shook his head.

“Y/n, just come-“

“Let me go.”

You interrupted him. After a few seconds he listened to you, and let go of your arm. You stood still, contemplating if you should leave for good this time. Instead, you slipped passed him into his room. His suite was huge, it was more like an apartment really. Modern with expensive furniture and paintings scattered around the room. He had a lot of money, you knew that, but you didn’t know it was to this extent.

“You better explain-“

You were suddenly caught off guard by his strong arms turning you around and embracing you in a tight hug.

“You came back to me! I knew you would! Oh, I’m so happy to see you again, baby!”

He said in a boyish tone. It was a sharp contrast to his interaction with Taehyung. You weren’t able to immediately react, getting lost in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you once again.

“Stop it, Jungkook. I’m still angry with you.”

You said and wiggled out of his hug. He looked at you with hurt in his eyes as he saw you brushing off imaginary dust from your skirt.

“I understand. Sit, I’ll get you something to drink.”

He said and walked out of the room. You did as you were told, sitting down on his white cashmere sofa. He came back with two cups of tea, placing them carefully on the glass table before sitting down beside you. You didn’t say anything, you waited for him to say the first word.

“Just uh- please just listen to me ok?”

He asked and looked at you. You nodded.

“I didn’t exactly plan this. Taehyung was stupid enough to get caught and ended up in prison. I told my lawyer to get you on his case. I knew a case like that would be amazing for your career.”

You shook your head disappointedly.

“I’ve told you I don’t want your help. Why-“

“Listen, y/n. Please just let me explain.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, but you stayed silent.

“Anyways, after a while he confessed to me that he was in love with you.”

You watched his entire body go stiff at his statement. He clenched his fists in jealousy.

“You know I’m willing to go lengths for you to succeed, baby. But- I had to stop him. I refuse to let him have you like that. Especially when we weren’t even talking to each other. So that night I sent you all those messages.”

He unclenched his hands and put his hand carefully on your knee.

“I knew he would do whatever I told him to, so I said if he got you out of the case I’d get him out of prison.”

“So you asked him to jerk off in front of me?”

Jungkooks face changed drastically. He did not seem pleased about the new piece of information you just gave him.

“He did that?”

He asked, his tone had changed from apologetic to dangerous. You nodded. His grip around your knee tightened. You put your hand over his, to show him that he was hurting you.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

He said looking you straight in the eye. Another set of chills ran down your back. You knew he meant it. It was not a loose threat.

“This isn’t about him, Jungkook. You pushed him do it. And then you broke into my house, expecting to be treated like some kind of hero.”

You pushed his hand off your knee. He started staring into the air. A million thoughts running through his head.

“I don’t understand how you can’t see that your behaviour is insane?”

You stated. He was still being quiet.

“You need to stop.”

You said a little calmer, trying to comfort him.

“I did.”

He said and looked at you.

“I did stop, because that’s what I thought you wanted. But now you were the one that came to me.”

He caught you off guard. It was your turn to be quiet this time.

“I’ll always do what’s best for you, because I love you, y/n. I don’t care how insane I sound or look to you. But why are you here if you think that of me?”

You looked away from him, knowing you had no rebuttal.

“You called me an awful person, you told me you hated me. And I can take it. But I can’t take another rejection from you! I just can’t!”

He raised his voice now. He was getting emotional.

“I’m sorry.”

You said so lightly it was almost a whisper. He stopped ranting and the room got quiet.

“That’s why I came here. To tell you that I’m sorry.”

You looked back to him again. His eyes were big and filled with so much love. You had never seen him like that before.

“I’m sorry I said I hated you, and that you’re crazy and an awful person. None of it true.”

He nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact with you. You became quiet again.

“Is that it?”

He asked carefully. You nodded, shifting awkwardly in the sofa.

“Yeah, I should probably leave.”

You said, taking his hint. Preparing to walk out and never seeing him again.

“No.”

He said, and shifted towards the end of the seat.

“No, not like that.”

He said in a hurry, and took ahold of you hands. You looked confused at him.

“I didn’t mean for you to leave. Don’t leave.”

He sounded almost desperate, clinging onto your hands. You nodded and gave him a short smile.

“What I meant to say is, is that the only reason you came here?”

You thought for a second. Was saying sorry the only reason you came? That’s at least what you told yourself. But at the same time you felt like you owed him more. You didn’t know what you felt. You had been an emotional wreck for months now.

“Yes.”

You answered. Trying to keep cool and not overthink the entire situation. You didn’t want to see him, you had to. Because you’re a good person. That’s all. That’s it. But it didn’t feel like it. It definitely didn’t feel like it. It felt like you longed to see him.

“You’re lying.”

You were ripped out of your thoughts by his statement. You shook your head defensively.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

You opened your mouth to argue back, but he spoke first.

“If it was a clear ‘yes’ you wouldn’t have to think about it. I know you better than you think, y/n.”

He repositioned himself so he could look right at you.

“Come on, ask me anything about yourself and I’ll tell you.”

You looked briefly at your wristwatch.

“I don’t know, maybe I should leave.”

“Just give me a chance, y/n.”

He said.

“If I don’t get it right I’ll let you leave.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him, but still turning more towards him, accepting his offer.

“What’s my mothers name?”

You asked. He gave you a knowing look.

“Come on, that’s easy. Give me something that isn’t on Google.”

You let out a small laugh.

“You didn’t say her name though.”

“Christina, now give me something good. Something deep.”

You smiled, but had to think for a second.

“When did I loose my virginity?”

His smile turned to a smirk.

“You were 16 at Mae’s birthday party. You were drinking, and her boyfriend August hit on you. He took you to her bed and fucked you right there. No wonder Mae isn’t your friend anymore. You’re a bitch.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. Deep down it was scary that he knew something so intimate in great detail, but for some reason you were having fun with his little game.

“Ok ok. But now it’s your turn, when did you loose your virginity?”

He let out a nervous laugh at your question.

“This quiz isn’t about me.”

He stated and pulled his hand through his hair. You tilted your head slightly downwards and looked at him through your lashes and with a pout.

“I think it’s only fair that I know your story, since you know mine so well.”

He smiled at you, but looked away for a few seconds. Contemplating if he should tell you or not. When you saw him shy away, you suddenly felt as if you were digging into something he wasn’t comfortable sharing.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You said, and placed your hand on top of his. Your fun voice was toned down to your regular speech again.

“No, I’ll share it. No worries.”

He said and looked back to you. You nodded and turned completely towards him. Crossing your legs and resting your arm on the backrest of the sofa, ready to hear his story.

“My first time was around one and a half year ago, in your office, with the girl of my dreams.”

He said dead serious. You snickered at him, thinking he was joking. But he didn’t laugh.

“You can’t be serious.”

You stated, he nodded proudly.

“Why wouldn’t I be, like I said you’re my dream girl. Why would I waste my time on others when the only one I want is you?”

He asked rhetorically. You crossed your eyebrows in confusion.

“You’ve never had sex? Ever?”

You asked in shock. His image did not fit the virgin title whatsoever.

“Once. With you.”

You smiled, but shook your head in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious. You probably have girls throw themselves at you.”

His hand found your knee again. This time it was placed a little further up.

“The only one I want is you. I waited for you because I knew you would be worth it. Because I love you.”

He said in a low tone, slightly stroking the inside of your thigh. The two of you were close, so close that you were aware of the proximity. The tension in the air got thicker and thicker from the power of his last words. His face started moving slowly towards you, and you gave in. Meeting his lips. The kiss started slow, but he was quick to rush it. Grabbing your neck to deepen the kiss. You were suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of what you were doing, and pulled away.

“We can’t do this.”

You simply said. Focusing on your hands on your lap. His hand went to push a strand of your hair out of your face.

“Why?”

He didn’t sound angry or impatient. He sounded like he cared. It was so much different from the first time the two of you shared a moment like that. He had really changed, and that was the problem.

“I’m not your patient anymore, y/n. I don’t want anything from you.”

You looked up at him again, and he caressed your face in a loving matter.

“Except for you of course.”

His face got closer again, but this time you didn’t kiss him. You abruptly got up from the sofa, and opted for looking down at him instead. You took a deep breath.

“You’re not doing anything wrong by having sex with me. Again, I’m not your patient.”

He said a little bit louder, trying to calm you down.

“I can’t have sex with you because I’ll fall in love with you.”

You couldn’t believe those words came out of your mouth. You had been in denial this entire time, but you knew yourself. This would not end well. You couldn’t bare to fall in love with someone that would ruin your image and reputation. You just couldn’t. He looked at you like you were some kind of god. Like all his wishes were finally answered.

“Why is that a bad thing?”

He asked, you shook your head.

“I can’t let that happen, Jungkook. It’s going to ruin my career.”

You sat back down, leaning your elbows on your thighs and your head in your hands.

“I have done nothing but help your career. Why can’t you just trust me?”

He put his hand on your back, stroking you lightly. You looked at him again.

“Please, trust me y/n.”

Fuck it, you thought, before you caught him off guard with your forceful kiss. He was quick to get the memo, kissing you back with the same hastiness and lust. You found your way onto his lap without breaking the kiss. Once you were straddling him, you felt his already hard cock grinding against you. He was desperate for you. A muffled groan escaped his lips when your hand went down to remove his belt.

“Wait.”

He said as he pulled away from you. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were wet and plump.

“Let me taste you.”

It sounded more like a question than a statement. His whole aura was so different from the needy rough man you remembered from the last time.

“Please.”

You got off his lap, taking your top off slowly. Watching him as his face turned in awe of the sight of your tits. His eyes were only on you as you shimmied out of your skirt, letting it pool on the floor. You laid down on the sofa, spreading your legs for him. He quickly removed his shirt, before getting on his stomach. His hand ran slowly down your abdomen, before he reached your slit. He split your lips with the same hand, before he dove right into you. You could tell he was inexperienced, but the rapid use of tongue on your clit sent waves of pleasure throughout your body. You let out extra pound moans whenever he would hit a good spot, and luckily he was a quick learner.

Once he had the hang of it, his hand moved down to your vagina, pushing two fingers in. Your back arched at the speed of the overstimulation. Feeling your orgasm approach quicker than usual. You grabbed his hair, pushing him deeper into you, preparing for your release.

“Don’t stop, Jungkook! I’m close.”

He moaned by your words, the vibrations making you tip over the edge. Your legs closed in on him, locking him in place. As you rode out your high. Once you had calmed down, you let go of his hair. And his face popped up from between your legs. He climbed on top of you, kissing you passionately. You tasted yourself on his lips.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.”

He said in between kisses and moans.

“I almost came just from eating you out.”

He started fiddling with his belt, but you stopped him. Placing a hand on his chest carefully.

“Let me.”

You simply said, before he moved off you. He sat down again, and you crawled onto the floor. Seating yourself between his legs. You looked up at him as your hands slowly traveled up his thighs. He was even more flushed now, his hair sticking to his forehead. You could tell he was impatient. Flicking his eyes between your hands and your eyes.

“Please, y/n.”

He uttered with a heavy breath. You smirked up at him, finally reaching his belt. You took your time with it as well. Once it was open, he was quick to pull down his pants and underwear. Letting his cock spring free. You got on top of him again, slowly lowering yourself onto his cock. He jerked up the second he felt your pussy on him. His thick cock stretched your walls out, and a moan escaped both your lips.

“Just relax, I’ll take care of you this time.”

You said in a low voice, placing your hands on his shoulders. His hands went straight to your ass, giving your cheeks a tight squeeze. You kissed him gently before you started riding him. His head fell back in pleasure once you started your movements. Bouncing up and down his cock. His hands dug deeper into your skin. He filled you to the brim, and every bounce felt amazing.

“Fuck! I’m not- gonna last long.”

He moaned and looked back at you. You then leaned your hands backwards onto his thighs. Your head fell slightly back as you moaned at the new angle.

“Y/n, slow down!”

He moaned as his hands moved to your thighs. Trying halfheartedly to stop you. But you didn’t stop. And suddenly you felt him coming inside you. His hips lifted you up, as he released himself. And when you felt like he was finished you stopped. You rapped your hands around his shoulders as you fell onto his chest. The room got quiet, the only sound being your heavy breathing.

You weren’t able to think about the consequences of your actions at that point. You only felt satisfaction and lust. And maybe even love…

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

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watchyourbuck · 3 months

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I really wanted to NOT analyze this scene bc it’s been done so many times but I’m a public menace, so

Buck and Eddie and Chris are at Buck’s loft, after a mission and a less than pleasant conversation w Bobby, and here are my thoughts:

We see Buck (who’s upset), cooking for Chris and Eddie, when — in the whole arc —, we never see him cook for Taylor (or Ali, or really, anyone else but the 118).

Recently therapied™️ Eddie doesn’t give a flying fuck about being interim captain, but has enough eyes to see Buck does. His voice softens, and he gives him foot to discuss his own feelings without hiding them bc Eddie doesn’t share them. (Bonus points bc he makes the same face he made after the lawsuit, in THE Kitchen Scene, when he tells Buck ‘not to beat himself up about it.’).

“Lucy is great– whatever-,” Buck says absentmindedly, and we get a glimpse of Eddie’s smug little face. It kind of implies he knows about the kiss, but opts to say nothing. He did, in fact, cheat on Taylor (and Chris is in the room). But the grin falls a little. Maybe he’s not so nonchalant about it, after all. Or maybe, he knows they (she and Buck) never stood a chance. He looks – relieved, almost.

Eddie feels comfortable enough to keep actually playing with his kid. Enough to win, actually. He doesn’t feel that comfortable at his parent’s house (5x17).

Buck keeps talking about this, and even if he acts like he doesn’t care (and Eddie has dealt with that sarcastic-coping-mechanism-tone Buck does one too many times), he’s visibly angry, so Eddie changes the subject. “What are you offering?”

“Right now? Bobby’s famous lasagna.” Okay, this doesn’t scream ‘I’m cooking you my family recipes’ to anyone else?

Then we have The Diaz’ compliments, which not only sound genuine, but make Buck grin. Like he did something right. Besides, it took him ‘three tries to get it right.’ Interesting, when other in the show has Buck not given up immediately after something doesn’t go his way? Surely, this had to be something he was very keen on achieving, cuz he barely cooks for himself.

Chris’ little ‘you don’t even have a couch’ is very funny to me. Because he’s a kid and he’s joking, or being smart. But Chris isn’t my focus here, it’s Eddie’s reaction. We do know kids absorb what their parents feel and say, right? Eddie laughs, so he must think alike. He looks almost drunk — all flushed cheeks, big smile, squinted eyes.

“My last two couches came with girlfriends” and the IMMEDIATE correction Eddie makes. We know Buck is at his most comfortable with the Diaz boys, so we know he’s not putting on a show. What he says – he means. Of the heart speaks the mouth. That’s how he feels about his past relationships, not the correction Eddie makes. (And if you may let me be annoying here, it’s kinda interesting, the correction. It sounds almost – hopeful. Eddie knows it’s supposed to be the way he corrects him to be, but in a way, he corrects him just to guarantee himself that that’s not what Buck meant ((and it’s not.)).

The way that Buck stops, stares and then plunges down on the chair. ‘Right,’ he thinks, ‘the girlfriends came with couches.’ Again, NOT his initial thought. He hides behind a grin.

Eddie is not careful mentioning Taylor. Buck isn’t heartbroken. He even mentions her in Chris’ presence, and we know by history they’ve always been careful. (If you ask me, that’s the reason they didn’t hook up after the ‘you wanna go for the title?’ scene).

“Maybe I don’t wanna pick the wrong couch again.” Please stay here for a second. In all objectivity we’re talking about furniture…, right? This is a three-street conversation, because Chris added himself to it, yet Buck won’t look at him. He looks at Eddie, very intently. As if… as if he’s saying something different with his words. Huh, whatever could he mean? (Faint whispers of: ‘your couch, you, I wanna pick you, I wanna pick you, pick me, too.’) And then Eddie, who is Oblivious Firefighter of the Year (awarded) brings the conversation down again to the actual topic, and Buck deflates, like his balloon has been popped. His eyes literally stop glimmering.

So, is this a conversation two best friends who are comfortable in that title would have?

#yall tell me #if I’m off I’m off #but I don’t think I’m off #buddie #911 fox #911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 tv show #evan buck buckley #buck x eddie #buck and eddie #911 abc #911 on abc #911 buddie #buddie 911

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 month

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Yell at Me and Tell Me You Love Me

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You distance yourself from Tim because you think he is still in love with Isabel. When he confronts you about why you've been avoiding him, you accidentally tell him the truth.

Warnings: angst to fluff, argument, friends to lovers, the timeline of Tim and Isabel's relationship is probably off but I needed to make everything fit

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

A/N: The first title I typed was "Yell at Me, Tell Me You Love Me, But Don't Push Me Away" and I'd just like to say (a very sarcastic) you're welcome for shortening it. (Unless you like the original, then I'm sorry.)

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You met Tim Bradford less than a week after he left the Army and quickly became one of his closest friends. Despite the secret kisses shared without thought, holding each other tightly for no reason, and falling asleep in each other’s arms, you continue to be just friends with Tim Bradford. Being part of his life for so long means you’ve seen more than most. You were at Tim and Isabel’s wedding, gave him a place to stay after the divorce, and you fell in love with him without even trying.

Since his divorce from Isabel, you’ve shared a few more thoughtless kisses, said “I love you” before ending phone calls, and slept in the same bed simply for comfort on more than one occasion. You know you need to stop, however, because Tim is still attached to Isabel, as far as you can tell. She calls occasionally, and he rushes to answer the phone, leaving you like an afterthought as the woman he truly loves becomes available again. You’re unwilling to be a rebound or a distraction while Tim works on his relationship with Isabel, but you can’t decide how to set a boundary you don’t want.

It's nearly midnight, and you can’t sleep with thoughts of Tim running through your head. As you consider the idea of simply giving him space, letting him know that you both have things you need to deal with before you can be his friend again, your phone rings. Tim’s name and face light up your dark room and life before you answer.

“Hey,” you greet.

“Hi. I- did I wake you up?” Tim asks.

“No, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither. Are you okay?”

When Tim asks that question, you realize that the only thing you want from or for Tim is for him to be happy. Alone, in the dark, you acknowledge that the only way for him to be happy is if you are willing to move out of the way of what he really wants. If you step away and give him room to work out his feelings toward Isabel, maybe he can find what he wants and focus entirely on that.

Tim says your name, and you rush to say, “Yeah, I’m fine, just- just thinking.”

“You want me to come over?” he offers.

“No,” you answer quickly – too quickly. “It’s late, and I’m really fine. Are you?”

Tim sighs before answering, “I guess. Isabel called today to tell me she’s going back to rehab. She wants me to come by once a week, act as part of her support plan.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“I enabled Isabel for so many years that I don’t know.”

“You’ll do the right thing, Tim. You always do.”

A memory of last week, when Tim kissed you during a walk on the beach, flashes through your mind. Was that the right thing?

“Or you have too much faith in me,” he argues.

“I think I have just the right amount of faith in you.”

“It’s your turn to pick dinner on Friday.”

You see an opening to pull back and tighten your grip on your phone as you ask, “Actually, can we skip this week? I’m swamped and don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I’d hate to leave you waiting.”

Tim hesitates before agreeing, “Sure. Just let me know when you’re free. We can do whatever you want.”

“I will,” you reply softly. “I’m getting tired now, though, so goodnight, Tim. And good luck with Isabel and your decision.”

“Yeah, thanks. Goodnight.”

You bite your tongue to keep from saying I love you one last time, and as you set your phone down, actively pulling away from your best friend, you want to call him back and ask if you ever had a chance. Instead, you press your face into your pillow and force yourself to think about other things as you fall asleep.

✯✯✯✯✯

You sit in bed and stare at your phone as your finger hovers over the star beside Tim’s contact. When you remove him from your favorites list, everything will begin to feel real. Just as you lower your finger, your phone buzzes with a text from Tim. Three simple words make your heart pound as you read them.

Call me, please.

You want more information before you decide to call him or not. Distancing yourself will be hard enough without Tim vying for your attention the entire time you pull away. Clicking the star so it disappears, you make the first step in separating your life from Tim Bradford’s.

“Please be the right choice,” you whisper, staring at his contact photo. “I just want you to be happy. Happier than I could make you.”

An hour later, your phone rings, and you send Tim to voicemail. If it is an emergency, he’ll leave a voicemail. With each unanswered call and text, the time between them lengthens. Maybe Tim has already realized you weren’t as important to him as you both seemed to think.

By the end of the first day not talking to Tim, you want to scream and cry simultaneously. It’s hard to lose a friend, but harder to lose the one person you love. Reminding yourself constantly that you’re doing it for Tim and his happiness, you don’t give yourself time to think about how much your decision and the distance are hurting you. You knew Tim would hurt for a while before finding his way back to Isabel, but you weren’t expecting to feel like a piece of your heart had been ripped out. That’s what you get for giving it to Tim without telling him, you suppose.

✯✯✯✯✯

After a sleepless night of tossing and turning, someone knocks on your door as the sun rises over Los Angeles. You roll out of bed and pull a sweatshirt over your head before looking through the peephole. Tim stands on the other side of the door and speaks before you can think about pretending to be gone.

“I know you’re here,” Tim calls. “I don’t have a lot of time, just wanted to check on you before work.”

After you open the door, you look out at him and give him a closed-lip smile. He looks at you like he can see straight through you, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could.

“We made a huge arrest last night and a couple of us are going out tonight to celebrate,” he says instead. “Do you want to come out with us?”

“Uh, no, but thanks for the offer. I’ve got a lot going on right now, and-“

“Like what?”

You tilt your head to the side, wondering what he means.

“What’s got you so busy that you can’t even text me back?”

“I- I don’t want to talk about it right now, Tim,” you say, opting to deflect rather than lie. “But congratulations on the arrest and have fun tonight.”

Tim’s jaw tightens as he nods. You watch as he walks away, wishing you could run after him. As you close your door, you decide that slowly pulling back will not work; if you want to give Tim room to find his way back to Isabel, you must leave him.

Pushing your fist against the closed door, you take a deep breath before walking through your place and gathering everything that reminds you of Tim. After placing it in a box, you shove it into your closet. Next, you turn off the notifications in your phone, so you won’t be tempted to answer when he calls or texts. The hurt of losing Tim worsens with each action as you pull yourself further away from him.

“Please be happy,” you beg as you close the door on your box of memories.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’re grumpier than usual,” Nolan notices. “I mean- sorry,” he adds quickly.

“Timothy,” Angela calls. “A word?”

“No,” Tim replies.

“Bradford, now.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he stands and walks to her desk. She gestures for him to sit, and while he should feel like a kid in the principal’s office, he feels more like a man being told his wife is divorcing him and having to maintain a brave face even as his heart shatters in his chest.

“What do you want, Lopez?” he asks. “No small talk.”

“I wouldn’t dream of trying with you, Timothy. I want to know what’s up with you and why you’re taking it out on everyone here.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You’re making it our business by pushing your frustration, or whatever it is you’re dealing with, off onto us. Is it Isabel? I heard she’s back in rehab.”

“No,” Tim answers, scoffing as he leans back. “It’s not Isabel.”

“Is there any chance that part of you still cares about her, and even if you’re lying to me and yourself about it, Isabel still affects you?” Angela asks.

“No, Lopez. I can guarantee that this has nothing to do with Isabel. She asked me to visit her as part of her support plan and I told her I would think about it, but the ‘source of my frustration’ hasn’t even let me do that.”

“Timothy, just tell me what’s bothering you and maybe I can help,” she offers quietly.

Tim stands as he replies, “You can’t. The only one who can help me with this is avoiding me.”

Angela’s brows furrow as she wonders who he could be referring to. Tim is adamant this isn’t about Isabel, but Angela can’t think of anyone else with this level of pull over him.

“Let me know if you change your mind and want to talk, Tim.”

“Will do,” he answers, though he and Angela know it’s a lie.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Isabel!” Tim calls, jogging to catch up to her. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replies, hugging him quickly. “I thought you were going to call my sponsor with your decision.”

“I was, and I did. But I also wanted to let you know, in person, that I can’t be part of your support plan. At least, not right now, not after everything I did over the last few years.”

Isabel nods as she guesses, “You feel partially responsible and don’t want to risk letting me fall back into my old ways. I get it, Tim, but thanks for considering it.”

Tim nods, and Isabel can tell something is bothering him.

“You want to stay? Talk for a bit?” she asks.

“I can’t. I’ve got a work thing,” he replies. “Thank you, though, and good luck with everything. I’ll be back by when I have some time.”

“Tim,” Isabel interjects, wrapping her hand around his forearm. “I recognize that look. I only saw it once, and it didn’t turn out well for me. Whatever it is you want to say to whoever it is, just say it.”

“I don’t know how,” Tim admits.

“My take: if she’s important enough to affect you like this, you’ll find a way to let her know what you’re feeling.”

“What if she doesn’t care, Isabel?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Tim, but I can tell you that waiting too long doesn’t make things any easier… I have to go, I’ve got a group meeting, but, Tim, what’s worth the risk: saying something or keeping it quiet until it’s too late?”

Tim nods before he waves as Isabel turns toward another building. Tim texts Nolan that won't be at the celebratory gathering while he walks to his truck. He knows where he needs to go but doesn’t know how to deal with everything once he gets there. Hopefully, seeing you will give him the right words to say.

✯✯✯✯✯

You broke your heart trying to let Tim be happy and keep yourself from getting hurt in the fallout of losing him. Your house seems bare, every picture and memory of Tim tucked away in a failed attempt to keep your mind off him. A knock draws you out of your miserable reverie. Whoever it is knocks again when you leave it unanswered, the sound harsher and louder than the first time.

“Coming!” you call.

You open the door without thinking and are surprised to see Tim standing on the other side.

“Can I come in?” he asks in response to your stunned silence.

Say no, your mind says, but your heart makes you step back and invite him inside again. Pushing him away the second time will be much worse, but you can’t seem to stay away from Tim.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Tim says.

He leans against your kitchen counter with his arms crossed, waiting for an explanation you don’t want to give. The whole point of making room for him and Isabel to reconcile (like he wants) was for Tim to figure it out himself.

“Ready for what?” you ask defensively.

Tim shakes his head and scoffs as he tightens his arms over his chest. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? After everything we’ve been through together, you really expect to avoid me without an explanation or question?”

“Everything we’ve been through?” you repeat incredulously. “We’re friends, Tim. Friends stop hanging out when one of them gets busy.”

“Oh, now we’re friends? Were we friends when you crawled into my bed three weeks ago, or when we were making out on the beach? Because that didn’t feel very friendly,” he snaps.

“No, we weren’t friends; I was just a woman who made a mistake,” you reply.

“Am I your friend or am I a mistake?” Tim demands. “Because you can’t seem to keep your story straight. It’s a simple question: why are you avoiding me?”

“If I’m such a bad friend, why does it matter, Tim?”

Tim pushes off the counter, stepping toward you. His jaw clenches, and his biceps flex as he raises his arms in question. You would kiss him any other time, but right now, you’re angry that he can’t just trust you are busy. Granted, it is a lie, but you don’t appreciate the accusation, which is likely your emotions talking.

“I’m not answering your question unless you answer mine,” he says.

“Then I guess we’re not going anywhere.”

Tim looks up at the ceiling before asking, “Why?”

“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you all night. If you think I’m a liar, just say it, Tim!”

“Well, you are the one keeping secrets.”

“So, what, you think I’m avoiding you? Then get out and let me!” you demand.

“And go where? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not surrounded by friends, and I thought you were one of the few I had, but I can see now that I made a mistake.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry that your precious, perfect little world decided to turn you into this,” Tim seethes, looking into your eyes as he steps toward the door.

You move with him, chest to chest, as you yell, “And I’m sorry that you couldn’t figure out I love you enough to let you go back to Isabel!”

Tim falls silent, and your chest heaves with anger. You realize what you admitted, drop your gaze to Tim’s chest, and lick your lips before lowering your voice to speak again.

“Maybe I was stupid for chasing after you when I knew you weren’t interested, that your heart would always be with someone else. I thought that someday you’d realize that everything I’ve done over the last few years has been for you; I’ve been chasing you just to find out that I never had a chance.”

“I don’t want to go back to Isabel,” Tim says after a moment of tense silence. “I went to see her today to tell her that I couldn’t be there for her anymore. If I’ve been acting different, chasing after someone, it’s because I’m falling for you.”

“You don’t fall,” you argue quietly.

“You deserve better,” Tim adds. “I don’t remember what it’s like to share my life with someone who cares about me and wants the same thing.”

You nod and try to step back, but Tim moves with you. The couch is right behind you, and you have nowhere to go, so you look into Tim’s eyes.

“I am not in love with Isabel,” Tim repeats. “You really started avoiding me because you thought I was?”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“You could have asked instead of forcing me to start a yelling match for answers,” Tim replies, his lips quirking up into a small smile.

“I want you to be happy, Tim,” you explain. “And I thought that couldn’t happen if I was in the way.”

“You’re not in the way. You’re exactly where I want you.”

“Where is that?” you ask, leaning toward Tim.

“Right in the middle of my life.”

You raise your arms over Tim’s shoulders, smiling as his hands meet your waist. Tim pushes you against the back of the couch as he kisses you. He moves a hand up to cradle your head as you move with him. This kiss differs from the others; there is a need for more, an apology, and love coursing through you and Tim. Tim pulls back, and you pant for air as he places his hands on either side of your hips and leans forward.

“Just talk to me next time, would you?” he requests.

“And miss out on this? No way,” you argue.

“Don’t seem so excited about getting to yell at me for so long.”

“You’ve never kissed me like that before,” you say before you distract Tim by moving your hands to his chest.

“You’ve never told me you love me before today.”

“Sorry I had to avoid you for a while to confess it.”

“Maybe we can do it again soon, without the insults before.”

“I don’t know,” you muse. “Insults and yelling are kind of your thing.”

Tim cuts you off, kissing you again and tipping you over the back of the couch. You laugh as he catches himself and hovers over you.

“I love you too, even though you were too blind to see I felt the same,” Tim whispers.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford angst #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #requests #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

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too-much-tma-stuff · 10 months

Text

Home for the First Time

It was early when there was a knock at the door of Wayne Manor, Bruce was still in his nightgown because even though it was nearly noon he’d been out late. He stayed back while Alfred opened the door, curious to see who it was and hoping he hadn’t forgotten he was supposed to meet with press or something today. But no, it was two children, nearly identical besides the fact one had blue eyes and the other green.

“Hello,” The blue eyed one greeted with a bright, charming smile, he had one arm out slightly, subtly shielding the green eyed boy who was hanging back a little, a serious look on his face and a stubborn set to his jaw. “My name is Danyal Al Ghul and this is my brother Damien. Perhaps Bruce remembers an ill advised dalliance with our mother Talia roughly 11 years ago? We are the result, and she says it’s time we meet our father and learn what we can from him.”

“Of course we’ll submit to a DNA test to prove our lineage,” The green eyes one, Damien, put in. Danial didn’t look at the boy as he nodded along.

Behind Alfred Bruce choked on his coffee and started to cough. Alfred was unflappable as always and simply nodded once. “I see, why don’t you two come through into the sitting room? The paternity test shouldn’t take long using our equipment, we’ll just need a bit of your hair,” Alfred said as he stood back and usured the kids in. Bruce deciding now would be a good time to disappear and compose himself before he had to meet these unexpected children.

---------------

Danyal was nervous and excited as they sat in the drawing room, cradling mugs of tea neither of them had drunk. Damien was probably suspicious of an attempted poisoning, but Danyal was just nervous! Not that he showed it, his hands didn’t shake and an impassive little smile stayed on his face as he observed every inch of the room. That was the difference between him and Dami really, Damien had been raised the heir to the Demon Head, Danny to the Bat and Wayne industries. They had gone through the same physical training of course but they had different behaviours ingrained in them.

Damien had been taught to repress all emotion and not show it at all where as Danny had been taught how to mimic them. Hide his true emotion and show the appropriate ones. A ‘press smile’ as they say, to charm and manipulate and give just the right half answers that truly gave nothing away. He excelled in science and technology which would be perfect for running Wayne Enterprises, so it mattered less that his reading skills flagged behind Dami’s a bit, or that he had been the weaker combatant.

Had been, until he had been struck by lightening and then revived by Lazarus. It had been a disappointment, but thankfully not something he could have been faulted for, an act of god to punish their grandfather for his avoidance of death and because even the gods feared who they would become. He remembered the strike, the unimaginable pain of it, and the aftermath as he lay on the ground, his heart stuttering and thumping to hard, then not, then fluttering, then not, then nothing as he had passed out.

He did not remember being dropped in the pit, but he did remember waking up within it. It burned through his veins, seeping in to the hand that had been struck holding his weapon, racing up along the fractals of energy, collecting the currents that still had him twitching uncontrollably and curling together into a hard ball in his chest. A wash of cold spread over him from his new centre, soothing the burn of the acrid, acidic pit. It made drifting there… comfortable.

He knew it shouldn’t have been, he had seen multiple people break the surface, gasping and screaming and clawing their way to shore, but it wasn’t for him. Then again Ra’s bathed in the pool, so maybe this was alright? It made him wonder about the people who never surfaced again, did they choose to stay because this was how it felt to them too? Drifting listlessly in comfortable… What? What was this feeling. Danny had turned and dove deeper into the pit, seeking answers as he always did, even when it wasn’t wise.

He didn’t know how long he swam before he could see the edges, the pool narrowing closer and closer till he could barely make it through, and then he found an exit. It was small, a porthole into a void of stars and doors. It was unlike anything he’d seen and he realised immediately it was calling to him, that was why he had dove. It wanted him to enter, it called it was where he belonged, it terrified him. When something far to large drifted by his little vantage point he fled back towards the surface, the life he knew, and the broken family he still loved.

He was a bit surprised to find that Damien and mother were still there but grandfather had already left. That was fair really, Danny didn’t know how long he had been down there, but his brother and mother are still there. It seemed Damien was being allowed a rare moment of weakness, on his knees by the edge of the pond, staring blankly into the water with their mother crouching next to him, rubbing his back though Damien’s eyes were still dry. They were… grieving him.

He burst through the surface of the glowing pool, gasping for air he scrambled up onto the bank, coughing up the disgusting liquid clogging his lungs. His ears were ringing and his sight narrowing to a green blur, completely unaware of what was going on around him until two hands, one the size of his own, and one larger land on his body. The smaller set held back his hair while larger rubbed his back, slowly sound returned and he heard his mother’s soft cooing and Damien’s panicked breath.

He gasped for breath and looked up at the two of them, the green retreating from his vision as he blinked rapidly. “Damien? Mother?” He had gasped seeing the relief overtake both of their faces that Lazarus hadn’t stolen his mind.

It hadn’t, in fact he was just as sharp as ever and had found that since then no one could detect him when he wanted to remain unseen, no door could stop him or keep him out. He was what any assassin dreamed to be, but it had also come with new awareness since he had been overhearing things no one would usually let him hear. He had heard the conversations Grandfather had with mother going back and forth about which of them should go to their father, since it was always meant to be Danyal but now with his new abilities he was clearly chosen by Lazarus so maybe he should be the true heir.

Danny known Grandfather was manipulative for as long as he could remember, not like Damien, who still had faith in the league and their grandfather. Damien was smart, and talented, he was suspicious enough for both of their physical safety, but he had a much harder time realizing when they were being manipulated, or when they were being used. That was alright, Danny could make up for this weakness as Damien had done for his unwillingness to kill. It had taken him a while of carefully planted seeds in both Grandfather’s ear and Mother’s to bring them around to the idea of both of them going to father.

Danyal didn’t know if father would be any better, but he would probably be easier to escape from then the league and maybe with some distance he would gain the courage to point out to Damien how it was wrong.

That was how life found them both sitting on their fathers couch, Danny’s tea long since having grown cold. He surfaced from his thoughts, seeing his eyes shimmering unnatural green in the reflection within the cup, as it usually did when he thought about his death.

He blinked it away in time to look up and see Bruce entering the room, he put his smile back on and stood, Damien following suit and looking sullen. They had agreed Danny would take the lead, but Damien still didn’t like it. “You must be Bruce, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Danyal said offering his hand to shake. Bruce blinked looking a little startled and shook his hand, Danny did his bast to give a good, firm handshake, hopefully his hands were too cold. “Mother always speaks highly of you, and even Grandfather admits there’s much we can learn from you,” He said, stepping back to let Damien shake Bruce’s hand as well.

“And anyone who can impress grandfather must be half a god,” Danny joked causing Damien to hiss and elbow his side as he usually did when he though Danny was speaking out of turn. Danny made a little oof sound and then gave Bruce a conspiratorial look, pleased to see he had made the stoic man crack a smile.

“It’s good to meet both of you as well, I’m sorry I didn’t know about either of you until today. The paternity test confirmed that you are my sons, Alfred is already setting up rooms for you next to each other in the family wing. In the mean time how would you feel about meeting a couple of your siblings? I believe Tim, Cass, and Stephanie are home at the moment? You’ve had a long trip, if you’d rather wait till tomorrow then I understand.”

“We’d love to meet them,” Danyal said, a little louder then usual to cover his brothers scoff. Damien scowled at Danyal who scowled back just as fiercely and tried to step on Damien’s foot, he knew the other boy would move out of the way before he could but it would make his point not to be disrespectful! It was clearer then clear that their father didn’t care much for blood given how much he loved all his adoptive children no matter what Grandfather thought. If Bruce wanted a biological heir he could have easily have gotten one, their blood might give them a slight advantage but they would have to prove their merits. But of course Damien believed everything Grandfather said still.

Damien dodged and then kicked back, Danyal rolling his eyes and dodging as well. Before a full fight could break out they both heard Bruce chuckle at them, Danyal gave the man a sheepish smile and while Damien blushed and looked down at the floor sulkily. “Alright, well then follow me. I’ll call Dick as well, I’m sure that when he finds out he has two new brothers to meet he’ll come running, I’m sure he’ll be here for dinner as well.”

“We’ve heard a lot about him too,” Danyal said with an impassive smile, they had to know about those who might be their competition after all. Danyal knew a bit more then Damien but they both knew what they needed to, like strengths and weaknesses. Danyal wondered if he was going to have to come to their adopted siblings defences, he fully expected Damien would try to assassinate them, whether or not it was actually wise to do so.

“Alright, then lets go see Tim first, he’s playing video games in his room. Steph and Cass are in the studio together,” Bruce said as he ushered Danny and Damien out of the sitting room and up a set of back stairs into the family wing of the manner. Danny and Damien following, having a silent argument of signs and dodgable blows about how exactly they should be handling this. What finally ended the argument was Danny flashing fang, his eyes glowing green and baring his teeth at Damien. Both to remind Damien of his true strength and to show how important this was to him, which made Damien relent for now he wasn’t sure.

Either way they had sorted it out by the time Bruce opened the door. “Tim, how do you feel about two new brothers?” Bruce said almost sheepishly and Tim groaned, pausing his game and spinning around in his chair.

“Damn Bruce where did you find these two?” He asked giving his adopted father a tired glare.

“On his doorstep,” Danny said promptly.

“We’re his biological sons,” Damien said at almost the same time, then glared at Danny who shrugged, both were true.

“Damn really?” Tim asked as he finally got up, examining both of them.

“We already did the paternity test,” Damien said with what Danny would call an unwarranted amount of pride.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Danyal. You can call me Danny if you want,” Danny said, stepping forward and offering Tim a handshake and his best smile. Tim blinked and shook his hand. “I’ve never played a video game, they didn’t allow such frivolities in the compound. They look like fun though, perhaps you could teach me?”

“Uh sure, sounds fun. What about you? You want to learn other little bro?” Tim asked looking to Damien.

“Why would I want to learn a skill with no practical use,” Damien scoffed. “My name is Damien, and I do not approve of nicknames,” He said, giving Danny a haughty look as he shook Tim’s hand. Danny just rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say little D,” Tim scoffed. Damien gave an indignant squawk and before he could go for a weapon Danny grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back.

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Bruce said, grabbing a knife Danny had missed Damien drawing and twisting it out of Damien’s grip as Danny got his brother in a headlock.

“Sorry about him, the League of Shadows doesn’t care much for social graces, I barely escaped being just as feral as him,” Danny joked before letting out an oof as Damien elbowed him in the side and escaped his hold.

“Eh it’s not the first time a brother has tried to kill me. I can look after myself,” Tim said, which was clearly a warning to Damien judging by the look. Danny knew that Tim could, but also knew he was still underestimating them, and he hoped that wouldn’t bite him before he figured it out. “Let me know if you change your mind, I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do with tech and media, I’ll be happy to be your guide.”

“Tt,” Damien scoffed and stomped out of the room.

“Well I’m looking forward to learning about all of that, I think it’ll be fun! Ignore him, he’ll come around. Just, uhh, watch him, That won’t be the last time he tries to stab you. If anything it’s a bonding activity for him,” Danny joked as lightly as he could before hurrying after his twin, Bruce on his heels.

Part 2: here

#damien wayne #Danyal al ghul #danny phantom #tim drake #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #demon twins #dc x dp #talia al ghul #Stabbing is Damien's love languag #Danny is gifted by Lazarus #we're skipping the fentons #DC stands for disregard cannon #I don't know much about DC so my writing is vibes based #part 1 of idk how many #Idk how much of this I'm going to write

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