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lovebugism · 4 months

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SAYING UGLY THINGS ON CHRISTMAS EVE WITH STEBE PLEASEEEEEEE

let's just pretend it's still christmas ok? hope you like it angel! — steve gets cruel when he's anxious, and with his parents coming to town, he's practically a timebomb (ditzy!fem!reader, angst, hurt/comfort tw for toxic parents, 2.1k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You were only trying to help.

Really, you were.

Steve’s been stressing himself sick about his parents coming over, and you’ve been following him around with your heart in your throat, trying to help him before he totally implodes.

He’s always a ticking time bomb when his parents are in town. He doesn’t know how to be anything else when it comes to them. He doesn’t know how to be anything other than perfect because he’s terrified of his mom’s backhanded compliments and his dad’s sneering replies.

He always turns into his teenage self when he’s scared — and there’s nothing more terrifying than being a teenager again.

You know all this, so you try your best to be supportive when he gets in moods like these. When he’s on edge and fussing over every little thing. You help him dust the top of the fridge and organize the spice cabinet and wipe down all the windows — even though you know his parents won’t notice, or otherwise care, about any of it.

And then, when you finally get the buzzing ball of anxiety to cuddle up with you on the couch, you manage to screw everything up all over again.

His head is on your chest, wild hair still drying from his shower. You hear him sniff once, then twice. “What’s that smell?” he wonders, not entirely apprehensive ‘cause the TV’s got most of his attention.

“What smell?” you ask, more distracted than he is.

His weight on you is a comforting one. You pet him like a cat accordingly — one palm rubbing up and down the length of his back and the other curling in his hair. With your nose among the chestnut strands, you don’t smell anything other than his floral shampoo.

“It smells like something’s burning.”

You pull back from him and sniff hard once. It smells a bit smoky, like cooking something over a campfire. Because something is burning. Your heart plummets to your stomach at the realization.

“Oh…” you hum under your breath, blood running ice-cold.

Steve only tenses up because you do. Your warm hands on his body go suddenly rigid. His scruffy chin rubs against the chest of your sweater when he turns to look at you. His honey eyes twinkle with confusion and concern. “Oh, what?”

“I think that might be the turkey…” you answer in a tiny voice because you know what’s coming.

“The what?”

“I put it in while you were in the shower, ‘cause you were so worried it wouldn’t get done in time—”

“Shit, babe!” he blurts and pushes himself off the couch. He rushes towards the kitchen without another look your way. You follow behind him like a puppy and hopelessly try to explain yourself.

“—And then you wanted to cuddle after, so I laid down and totally forgot about it!”

“So you’re saying it’s my fault?” he scoffs and swings the door of the stove down. He flinches at the billowing gray smoke. He rises again and rummages through an adjacent drawer, in search of oven mitts.

Your face swirls with confusion. “No!”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I forgot!”

“That’s not an excuse, babe!” He grimaces as he reaches into the hot oven. The tray clatters to the stove with a smoking turkey on top. It’s not totally burnt, but it’s hard as a rock and charred all over. Neither of you are chefs, but you could probably guess it’s less than edible.

“Shit…” Steve huffs under his breath. His hands fall to his waist and he cocks a hip to the side, blinking at the molten turkey before him because he’s at a loss for what to do now.

You stand just behind him, cowering as you wring your hands together. You feel small, like a child moments away from getting scolded. “I’m sorry, Steve,” you murmur, voice wavering. “I just wanted to help—”

He laughs loud. A bitter scoff, at most. “Well, you did a great job of that, didn’t you?” he says with a sour smile on his plush pink lips.

Tears burn the backs of your eyes. You decide to blame it on the lingering smoke.

“I said I was sorry,” you insist in a tiny voice, trying your best to stand up for yourself. You fucked up. Both of you know it. Rubbing salt in the wound doesn’t help anything.

“That doesn’t fix it, baby!” he argues, hands gesticulating wildly when he turns to you. His chiseled features are sharp with anger, but you decide to count your blessings ‘cause he’s still calling you baby. He only uses your real name when he’s really upset.

“I’m gonna have to go all the way to the store and make it all over again!”

“I’ll pay for it, Stevie, it’s okay—”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

“My parents are coming over tonight! And if everything’s not perfect, I will never hear the end of it,” he agonizes, voice fragile and close to breaking. His honey eyes go glassy when the red emotion slowly turns blue. “About how I can’t make it on my own, how I moved out too early— how I never should’ve moved in with you.”

His words sting a little bit, in the most literal sense. The very center of your chest starts to ache, like he’s shoved a red-hot knife into your sternum.

You try to shrug it off as best you can. “Well, who cares what your parents say?”

“I do! I have to, ‘cause I’m the one that’ll have to hear about it every goddamn day!”

His misplaced anger begins to build, like the looming shadow of a boogeyman. The weight of it starts to suffocate you. At a loss of how to make any of it better (because you’ve got a record of doing the exact opposite) you try to bring your high-strung boy down again.

“It’s just a turkey, Steve. We can make another.”

You prepare yourself for an argument, but Steve only huffs — so deep it makes his chest rise and fall. His head tips back as he rubs two wide palms over his face, down to his chin and back up again. He swipes his fingers through the still-drying strands of his unstyled hair and doesn’t say a single word.

His teeth are clenched tight. You can tell by the sudden sharpness of his jaw and the way his temples are slightly shifted. His eyes are still shut as he breathes in deep, rhythmic patterns. You can almost hear him counting to ten inside his head in attempts to calm back down again.

Steve is painfully self-aware of how hotheaded he gets when he’s anxious. Every little thing feels like the end of the world when he’s cranked up to one hundred. Problem is, he only realizes how cruel he’s being after he’s hurt someone with it.

That someone in question is you now. The sweeter-than-sugar you, the brighter-than-sunshine you, the well-meaning-but-sometimes-totally-careless you.

And Steve, on the other hand, is utterly troubled. He’s harsh, and he’s hopeless, and he loves you so much he’s not totally sure what to do with it all. Sometimes it scratches him like barbs. Maybe that’s why he confuses love and anger so often.

He thinks of his parents — how they were supposed to love him, how maybe they do, how they have a terrible way of showing it, and how he isn’t at all deserving of the way they treat him — and something inside him seethes. It burns somewhere deep within his ribcage and squirms like a feral animal trying to break free.

He feels trapped and he turns violent, like some kind of hurt dog. ‘Cause if he can’t be loved, then he might as well be feared. And sometimes he bites you, the warmhearted stranger willing to love something that doesn’t know how to love itself. And maybe that’s why he snaps at you when he’s so high-strung.

You love him the most, out of everybody in the whole entire world, and no one could understand all this quite like you do.

“You’re right,” he sighs when he comes down to earth again, arms falling to his sides when his shoulders are no longer tense.

The shades of red give way to something more golden when he looks at you. It makes his heart twist because you’re still looking at him the same way you were ten minutes ago — like you’re looking at the rest of your life in the flesh.

One more breath, and the worry slips away.

“Yeah, you’re right— it’s just a turkey— everything’s fine.”

You want to comfort him. Your wringing hands ache with the longing to hold him like you were before all this, with his cheek to your chest so your heartbeat can keep him grounded. You’re just not sure if he wants that yet.

So you linger in place and try not to implode with your yearning.

“I can get a storebought one before they come over if you want,” you offer meekly, peering at him beneath your lashes. “I don’t think they’ll know the difference if we just lie and say we made it.”

He laughs again. One snorted breath, but much more genuine this time. A grin blossoms like a pretty flower on his rose-petaled mouth. It’s impossible not to smile back at him.

“Or we can just, like, not say anything, and watch my parents pretend to like it,” he jokes.

“That’s evil,” you say, hiding your giggle behind your palm. “But then we’d probably have to eat it, too— to make it believable and everything, you know? And I don’t think I can put that in my mouth without gagging.” You snort a laugh at yourself, then grow strangely serious as you mumble, “That’s what she said.”

Steve laughs, loud and boyish. It paints the kitchen golden and makes your chest feel all sparkly. “C’mere,” he hums with a grin, throwing his arms out for you.

You gravitate towards him instantly, like he’s the sun and you’ve just suffered a terribly long winter. You hug him tight accordingly — suffocating, warm, and tender. He holds you back the same.

His arms curl around your back, wide palms spreading along the length of it. He noses at your hair and presses a gentle kiss there. “Sorry for yelling,” he apologizes, mostly muffled from where he’s holding you so intently. “You forgot. It’s okay. I overreacted.”

It’s still hard for him to apologize sometimes. Even when he’s in the wrong. Especially when he’s in the wrong. He grew up with parents who fought and then acted like nothing happened the next day. There was never any closure. Just bottled up feelings.

It feels good to be wrong — to acknowledge it and to still be loved after.

“I really was trying to help,” you mutter, burying the words into his chest.

Steve nods against you. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to make it worse—”

“You didn’t make it worse, don’t say that,” Steve interjects before the words can properly leave your mouth. He squeezes you tighter, in hopes it’ll make his words stick more. “You know I’d stress myself to death if you weren’t here.”

“Yeah. And if your parents came home to a corpse, that’d be really morbid,” you murmur gently.

Steve chuckles when he pulls away from you. He unwraps his arms from around you, just to hold your face in his hands. His palms are warm and softly calloused against your cheeks. He swipes his thumbs over the warm apple of them.

“It would be,” he concurs with a nod and a big, dumb grin. His honey eyes sparkle as they melt for you. “I’ll tell them that when they come over— that you singlehandedly saved their son. They’ll have to love you, then.”

He says it like it’s a joke, but it isn’t really. It’s true in a lot of ways. Way more than you know.

“Think they’ll still like me even if you don’t say all that?” you wonder meekly and with your nose scruched, peering up at him with a hopeful gaze.

“Oh. Yeah. Totally,” Steve scoffs without thinking twice. He shrugs like it’s obvious with his face twisted like he’s confused why you’d even ask. “They’ll fall in love with you the second they see you.”

“Well, that’s just dramatic,” you mumble, laughing under your breath.

You’re not nearly as confident as he is because you have no idea you’re made of flower petals, sunsets, and winter skies — all things delicate, tender, and impossibly loveable.

“I’m pretty sure it’s impossible not to be in love with you,” Steve insists, still cradling your face in his palms. It’s easier than saying that he loves you so much that he’d follow you anywhere — or that the rest of the world could fall apart, and he wouldn’t care as long as you were standing with him.

“I think you’re biased,” you tease with a quiet smile.

“I know from firsthand experience, babe,” he argues with a rosy smile. “I’m pretty sure I’m an expert on the matter, actually.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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envysparkler · 4 days

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“Cass is the favorite.”

Bruce paused in the hallway, head tilted in the direction of the kitchen. He wasn’t aware that anyone was still up.

“Definitely.”

Bruce was aware that Tim had coordinated tonight’s patrol as Damian was sick with the flu and Bruce was laid up with a couple of injuries—they must’ve just gotten back.

“She can read everything on his face and he never has to say a word—the old man must’ve been thrilled when he found her.”

Bruce frowned. His plan to return to his bedroom was put on hold as he lurked in the shadow of the den, listening carefully.

“And…Dick is the next favorite.”

“Of course, he’s the Golden Boy. Follows orders like the perfect soldier.” There was a dark twist of bitterness to the words.

“Tim’s next.”

“No, it’s definitely Babs. She’s actually good at her job.”

“Nah, I have to go with Steph. Babs calls B out on his bullshit. You, baby bird, melt into the shadows and don’t make a peep.”

“Tim, then Babs.” When he heard the scratching of pencil on paper, Bruce realized they were actually writing this down.

“Then the demon brat.”

“Depending on what kind of scene he’s caused in the past week.” A laugh, low and not very amused.

“Then me and Jason. The outsiders. Last on the list.”

A scoff. “No, Blondie, then you. I’m not on this fucking list.”

“Jason—”

“We’re ranking his kids remember? Not the vaguely estranged undead mob boss that comes to bail your asses out of trouble.”

“You’re his son, Jason.” Bruce was gripping the door frame so hard his dislocated shoulder twinged.

“All evidence says otherwise.”

“Well, I’m not his kid either. So I guess both me and Jason are off this list.”

“You’re his kid, Blondie. You have a room in this house.”

“I don’t use it.”

“Neither does little Red, and he’s the one running the company.”

“You have a room here too, Jason.”

“No, I have a fucking shrine to the fifteen-year-old kid who was murdered in Ethiopia.”

It landed flat and whatever camaraderie had been underneath the bitterness and snark dissipated instantly. It left a heavy tension in the air.

“I don’t want it anyway. Look what happens to the poor bastards at the top of the list.”

“What do you mean?”

“Cass—dear, darling, favorite Cass. She disappears whenever anyone is talking to B. Probably too painful to watch.”

“I hadn’t noticed that.” Quiet. Guilty.

“And the Golden Boy. Trying to hold the family together while everybody in it tears it apart. Timbo here, who’s hoping that if he slinks further into the shadows everyone might actually forget he exists.”

“Hey, I don’t—”

“Babs is stuck working for a boss who constantly undermines her, the demon brat doesn’t know if he should be listening to Dick or Bruce, and you, Blondie, for the great honor of being last on the list, are the only one of us that actually managed to slap B.”

#my snippets #batfam angst #bruce tries to be a good parent #he's not very good at it

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writingmeraki · 2 months

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unsaid, unkept, ugly emotions.

a seventeen vocal unit imagines !

IN WHICH, the uglier side of feeling too much getting more messier than it already is for both parties involved.

(or in which for different reasons, it just seems you aren't meant to be.)

pairing : svt!vocal!unit! x gn!reader, bestfriend!jeonghan, popular!joshua, ???jihoon, fwb(?)seokmin, enemy!seungkwan.

genre : angst, no comfort, everything is messy.

warnings : cussing, messy, heartbreak, contemplation, arguements, miserable people, miscommunication, everyone gets hurt, a lot of unspoken feelings, like emphasis on that you may get annoyed.

author's note : here's my attempt at angsty feelings ( i hope it was done well enough, really i tried but it might not be for me )<3 the potential to turn each into a fic is there but for me it'll be zero ( for now!!!!) kinda nervous to post this haha it's my first svt work but also a first of this kind of work, let me know if you want more of the units! and what you thought of this :) also peep the cute colours contrasting the fic lmao

HIP HOP UNIT VER. | PERFORMANCE UNIT VER.

word count : 2.9k

˖° ✰ ┆JEONGHAN.

The signs that something was wrong were there. For a while now. But you being the problem runner you were, you chose to ignore it.

You also knew one day they’ll catch up to you, and it seemed today was it.

“Jeonghan?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. Though it was his name, it sounded so foreign coming from you.

You who never called him by his full name. It left a sour taste on his tongue as he answered,

“Yes?”

“Do-do you think we’re good?”

Did he think you were good? He was feeling good, great even. But you asked in plural and in the plural it included you. Your relationship.

What was your relationship?

“Uhh…I’m…I think?”

You smiled at his answer. It didn’t reach your eyes, nor did it hide away the bitterness in them. “You know what I think? I don’t think we’re good. I think- I think it’s all a mess. It’s me, isn’t it? I should have never told you how I felt right?”

There. You ripped the band-aid off right from the wound. You had to, otherwise you knew your heart would be the one shattered, sooner or later, so why wait?

You knew there’d be consequences on confessing to your best friend. You knew there was always a risk to confess but the risk felt higher if it was someone you considered your best friend. A few sentences and it’s either having a stranger who you shared a past with or someone to create more memories for the rest of your time together.

The issue gets more complicated when you don’t know where you stand.

He couldn’t answer you, he didn’t know how to answer you. On one side, he wanted to yell at you. Yell at you for regretting confessing when it may have been the one thing he wanted to hear since the day thirteen year old him saw you beat up a guy who was bullying your brother.

On the other hand, he felt the fear consume him of the future, what if you broke up? You would never be the same, no matter what. He didn’t want to lose what he had, so he rather left it unanswered, thinking with time, it’ll fade away. Like everything does.

His feelings for you never did. A wonder how he could think yours would.

Taking a deep breath with your eyes shut,you nodded knowing your answer,

“Alright then I see.”

“Let’s take a break from each other.”

Break of what? You didn’t date, you were in a one-sided love scenario with your best friend.

Before he could reply, he watched you walk away. Your heart felt heavier when you didn’t hear a single word or even footsteps follow you.

His mind was the loudest and one thing he was for sure, as you walked away with each step, he could feel his heart slowly crack.

And just like that. It is over.

・₊ ‹𝟥 ┆JOSHUA.

Perhaps your biggest mistake was wanting someone who everyone wanted. But was it really your mistake because technically you were also part of everyone.

You could feel his stare burn into your side as you ate the horrible cafeteria food in your college. You could somehow hear his voice, somehow know he was likely calling you to talk.

What went wrong?

Everything you’d answer if he ever asked. It began going downhill when you felt those feelings you knew you didn’t feel around anyone. Certainly when you hung out with Yeonjun or with Jimin, you didn’t feel them.

You only felt them around him. The weird butterflies, the warm cheeks, the sweaty hands. At first you thought maybe you were actually scared of him, the intimidated type of scared. Who knew it ended up being scared of how you felt for him, how probably no one made you feel the way he did.

Finally looking up at him, you hid all your emotions as best as you could. You certainly hoped he wouldn’t be able to know.

But as your gaze fell to the girl beside him, you couldn’t hide them.

Choi Seora, the younger sister of Choi Seungcheol who was Joshua’s best friend since you could know. Well since that time he told you himself he knew the Choi siblings since they were kids. Childhood best friends. Knew them before you.

And she was also the girl who loved him. Anyone could see it from the way her eyes would look at him like the way one would at a treasure they’d been searching for. What she’d do for him, from what you’ve heard, what you’ve seen. There never was a chance.

It seemed as though the sign was already there. How could you compete with someone who knew him longer than you ever would? It’s not a competition if you already know you're losing.

Your unused hand clenched under the table, nails digging into your palms, leaving crescent marks that would bruise. Perhaps it would be in a similar state to the bruise inside your chest.

It fucking sucked when you could still feel his gaze on you as you turned back to stare at your half eaten bowl of pasta. Well, excuse of a pasta.

Suddenly you felt your phone ring from beside your bowl and you knew who it was before you even looked.Without looking at the name, you moved your hand to the switch off button and shut it off.

You wished there was such a button for emotions.

“Shua? Who are you calling?” It was empty in the cafeteria and you thought you might just puke out the pasta when you heard her sweetly call out to him as she looked at him with concern.

But for now, you’d do what seemed right.

Leaving your bowl of uneaten pasta, you grabbed your bag and phone. With one glance at Joshua whose attention was on you but now turned back to Seungcheol and Seora as they said something, you walked away.

The last thing Joshua heard was the sound of the cafe doors closing and when he turned his attention back to what or specifically the one who had been in his mind since the first time he met, he found you were gone.

At that moment, Hong Joshua felt more miserable than he ever did before.

₊✧ ┆JIHOON.

The lump in your throat got bigger as your vision got blurrier. You knew you should have listened to your friends.

Jihoon isn’t the type of person to be in a relationship with, babes, he doesn’t want that commitment stuff.

It’s what Karina had told you when you told her you were in love with him. Head over heels type.

But when it came to you, the determined type, the one who stood their place no matter what. The unwavering pebble in the ever-so drifting waves of the ocean. You believed that perhaps if you tried hard enough, surely the boy would see your efforts.

It wasn’t just a one-sided thing you knew. Otherwise another thing he was known for was being honest. If he didn’t like it, you were sure you’d have stopped. You didn’t think you were insane for thinking he may just like when you saw him smile at you for bringing him coffee. You didn’t think you were insane for thinking he may just reciprocate your feelings when you saw him hiding his face from complementing his work ethics. Perhaps, it was all in your lovesickness you drew these conclusions and many others.

So where did you mess up?

“Fucking hell! Just leave me alone and stop acting like a clingy partner!”

That’s what it got you. It was as though the words slapped you in the face. You surely did feel like it when you flinched taking a step back and your cheeks warmed in a mix of embarrassment as well as hurt. It wasn’t the kind of warmth that pleased you, it was the kind that burned you. Harshly so you felt it in your entire body.

Maybe it was your fault after all, you noticed he was having a bad day and you made the effort to go and comfort him. As you did.

Maybe maybe maybe, always maybe your fault and always yours.

Maybe you should listen to him then.

Inhaling with what dignity you had left, picking up the pieces of your heart that seemed shattered the minute he finished the sentence, you glared at him and spat out words laced with an equally venomous tone.

“Fine then! You’re saying it's my fault but you know what, maybe everyone is bloody right about you! You’re nothing but a coward scared of commitment!”

“The day you’ll realize you’re nothing but a coward who gets scared at the mere thought of being in a relationship and pushes someone away because maybe there is a chance you like them, it’ll be too fucking late because guess what? I’m tired of this stupid push and pull game with you,Jihoon.”

“Goodbye.”

You hated how your voice cracked when you finished speaking. You hated how you could not stop the tears. You especially hated the look on his face as he saw what he did, what his words did.

With what energy you had left in you, you turned around and walked away.

Enough was enough, you couldn’t win over someone’s heart who wasn’t even sure whose hands it should lay in.

Yet one thing was sure, yours laid in his hands and right then, you sure felt like he crashed it into pieces.

♡₊˚ ┆ SEOKMIN.

Seokmin glowed like the moon solely rose up to soak in his light, like the stars twinkled off his radiance. Maybe,you just got too close to the sun, enchanted with its brightness, to not realize just how much it could burn you. He was your sun. No actually the sun,stars, moon whatever celestial body existed perhaps dimmed down compared to him.

You think it messed you up completely when you kissed him in that truth or dare game surrounded by your mutual friends. You think about the stolen kisses, never more, just kisses in between the times you’d pass by in the hallways, pulling him in a cramped space and leaving with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Again, just kissing.

Simply put, you were addicted to him. To the way he made you feel. To the way he made you tingle when he kissed you so gently.

You didn’t want to address the elephant in the room. Or in this case,

What were you two?

Mingyu asked when you were sitting down in the same circle, just like the first time you’d kissed each other, with the same people.

You hesitated and then said, uncharacteristically enthusiasm lacing your voice,

“Friends of course! Don't be ridiculous Gyu.”

You didn’t like that word, and it seemed he didn’t either as he looked away,gulping in distaste and a scoff on his face that was usually unnatural for the sunshine like a boy. Seemingly going unnoticed by you but said boy who asked the question noticed and glanced back at you to see if you noticed. He sighed when he saw you not looking at Seokmin but raised an eyebrow as he saw you in a dilemma.

Right. Friends. Friends who kiss. But still friends…friends?

You tried convincing yourself the rest of that day that adding a label would ruin things. It always does. You should enjoy it while you can, right? It was all in fun?

So why did you feel terribly down when Seokmin refused to talk to you for the rest of the day?

“Seok?” You asked gently and he sighed exhaustingly as he looked at you,

“Please, please don’t…don’t call me that.”

The look of hurt on your face made him hate himself more because why would anyone like to hurt someone they loved?

Before you opened your mouth to speak, he continued,

“I don't think I can do this anymore, this…whatever this is. I am…sorry.”

And without a chance to ask more questions or give any answers, he turned around and walked away.

This was your fault. You hurt him because you couldn’t admit it to yourself that you…that you loved him.

You loved him more than the universe, you loved him since the day you saw him. You were just scared you'll lose him like the way you lose all your loved ones. You were scared of risks. You were…a coward.

And now it seemed, it was too late to do anything about it.

⠂୨୧ ˚.┆SEUNGKWAN.

Seungkwan and you were fire and water. Milk and lemons. Politicians and caring for the country’s people- Okay too far perhaps and enough of these metaphors of incompatibility to get a point.

You were sworn enemies. Despised each other in the true forms of hate. You hated him so much for the emotions he rose in you that you couldn’t stand him ruining another poor innocent soul with his devious eyes and cunning smile.

Which was exactly what he was doing with the girl wrapped around his left arm, additionally whispering probably lame jokes that made her giggle as though they were the funniest thing on earth. Lee Yuna was her name, you knew her as a cheerleader due to seeing her during your basketball games and also being somewhat acquainted because as a captain, it was apparently in your duty to know everyone especially those involved in the sports sector of your university.

You wish you could cross off knowing Seungkwan but alas, being the midfielder of the boys’ soccer team and the apparent star as well didn’t help in your case.

“I smell something burning and oh! Would you look at that! It’s an ugly green color too!” Sakura said as she smirked at you, pretending to take a sip of her drink when you directed your glare at her.

“Fuck. You.”

“You wish-”

“Oh! hey cap!” A voice said before you could retort to Sakura and you turned to see Vernon smiling at you in greeting. You knew him, of course you knew all of Seungkwan’s little friend group. You frowned at him eyeing him in suspicion. He was Seungkwan’s friend after all.

“Why the frown?” Sakura snorted as he asked you,his attention going to your best friend before she pointed at him and it was as if he understood and nodded.

“Ohhh, I see what’s the matter now.”

“Someone’s” Coughing very fakely, he added, “Jealous.”

Shutting your eyes, you looked at him with a glare enough to make him shut up on his own but still you added,

“Say that again and I’ll-”

“Already giving death threats huh? Maybe you should really go check up on that stick up your ass.” Of fucking course, now is when he decided to show up.

As though his eyes had not been searching for you the moment he stepped in the party. As though he hadn’t noticed you the moment you did. As though it wasn’t just an elaborate plan to rile you up.

You looked at him and fuck. Fuck he made you so angry with how fucking good he looked despite the conditions of the party. His blonde hair shining in the colorful lights and the darn smirk on his face.

“Kwan. How nice of you to show up! Just the person I was waiting for!” Your sarcasm could be sensed by those around, Sakura’s attempt at hiding her snort and Vernon’s brows raised not going unnoticed. They looked at each other briefly and a knowing look was exchanged.

Here we go again.

“Aw you were waiting for me darling?Hope I wasn’t too late, just got a little busy you see?”

“Clearly.” You said before thinking, the scowl on your face visible and the smugness on his face only grew larger.

“Not fond of me with someone else?” You didn’t even notice how both Vernon and Sakura had left, seemingly only Seungkwan and you, in the midst of drunk teenagers and perhaps lovesick ones, perhaps loners.

He got closer, closer that made you clench your hands that hung on your sides, leaning down.

“Not fond of me with anyone but you?”

It was as though his voice put you in a trance, or maybe it was how his warm breath tickled your neck. And for the first time in a while you thought of what he said, deeper than you would have ever.

You weren’t sure if you liked the answer. Or what it exactly implied too.

“Stay in your limits Kwan. Don’t fucking- don’t play this shit with me.” You pushed him away as harshly as you could, even if it felt like your hands burned when you thought of what you did. Purposefully ignoring the look in his eyes. Visible hurt and a frown on his face, you turned around, having enough.

“Don’t come after me. Stay with Yuna or whoever, I don’t fucking care.” You don’t know why you said the last sentence. You also don’t want to know why it felt bitter saying it.

With that, you began to walk out, gulping the fresh air that was much needed after being in that suffocating place, suffocating feelings.

As you shut your eyes, you gulped thinking of what you were doing. Why were you so pissed off?

And maybe you realized, you needed to check on the line that was drawn between Seungkwan and you. Perhaps it’s become too blurry to distinguish it from hatred and love.

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

feedback is always appreciated 💌

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist !

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peachypede · 4 months

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I will never not be bitter about how Kamado is portrayed as an shitty guy in the fandom and Volo is uwu pretty boy he was just feeling angsty when he tried to destroy the world and kill protagonist with giratina uwu

Rant below

Kamado, yes, made a horrible decision. He had his reasons. He saw his whole village destroyed by pokemon when he was young and never wanted that to happened again, Beni says they watched their family and friends DIE, so he gave in to his paranoia and banished the protagonist. It’s not an excuse, but he has his reasons for doing so.

And what does Kamado do when he realizes he’s wrong? The man get down on his hands and knees and BEGS your forgiveness. He does the Dogeza, the bow in Japanese culture that is the ultimate form of apology and respect to the other person. Kamado eats dirt and is basically saying “I fucked up so bad and I am so very, very, very sorry.” The Dogeza also is performed to show high respect, so Kamado is basically telling you as well that you far surpass his position. Your emperor levels of worthiness and strength. I think the amount of how embarrassing and humble this pose is is lost to people in the Western culture but this is a BIG apology and possibly even the BEST apology Kamado could gives since it’s an apology beyond words. He also apologizes to everyone else, telling them they were right and he was wrong.

"I acted on ill-considered presumptions and drove you from the Galaxy Expedition Team, forcing you to face great hardship alone…”

And you change Kamado. He becomes more willing to delegate and work with other people. He follows your lead. Hell, he has a line after you beat him on Prelude Beach where he basically calls you a god, that’s how much this dude respects you now.

"Perhaps you are a divine being yourself, sent to bring us gifts from above…”

The guy takes no credit for the victory on mount coronet, he says it’s all you!

"I know I've no right to say this... But we are truly fortunate to have been able to count you among the Survey Corps' ranks. If you had not joined us, we would have fallen on Mount Coronet. We would have lost our home. We would have lost our future."

He is a truly changed man in the end.

"I used to think that Pokémon were terrifying creatures. You've helped me see otherwise."

Volo on the other hand? Tricks you, betrays you, and then tries to KILL YOU. Kamado was always upfront from the beginning that he didn’t trust you, but Volo? He’s buddy-buddy with you to take advantage of you.

And he’s the reason why this all happened! He created the rift, displaced pokemon and hell some people since Ingo obviously fell in through this rift too (People blame Arceus for this :/ ) and nearly killed everyone in Hisui with rampaging nobles and origin forme Dialga or Palkia.

And in the end, Volo doesn’t apologize at all. The dude doesn’t even change.

"Someday, I'll solve every riddle in the legends of Hisui's Pokémon. And on that day, I'll stand before Arceus at last—No, I will CONQUER it! No matter how many years, how many decades, how many centuries it takes me!"

I’m just fully convinced at this point that it 100% has to do with Volo being pretty and Kamado not being that attractive.

My hot take of the new year: Kamado is WAY better husband material than Volo could ever be.

Anyway my rant is over…no hate on Volo lovers, I do think he’s a fun character to rotate like a chicken on a spit in your brain but this has been my biggest grievance in the PLA fandom.

#pokemon kamado #pokemon volo #it’s just discouraging when Im like ooo I wanna see more Kamado stuff #and all the stuff is everyone shitting on this man #and i get Volo shoved in my face #and then also people shit on Arceus when Ingo falling into Hisui was definitely Volo’s fault #arceus did nothing wrong #kamado did some things wrong #Volo not only did wrongs things but laughed in your face while doing the wrong things #pokemon legends arceus

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wintaerbaer · 7 months

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things we don’t say: part 4 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.5k

chapter warnings: swearing as usual, jin is sad and precious, alcohol consumption, one (1) instance of mild violence, suspension of disbelief as to the legal consequences of said violence, jungkook still has zero filter, feelings and bed sharing

a/n: this was a fun one >:) shout out to everyone who brainstormed, sprinted, or otherwise shouted about this fic with me and gave me the motivation to power through this (y’all know who you are, and i love each and every one of you <3)! and a massive shoutout to @jeonqkooks for the beautiful new banner!!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“And Tae encouraged you to do this?”

“Yeah. Kind of made up my mind for me actually.”

You toss down a few potential dresses on Maya’s bed after spending the past several minutes raiding her closet. With the bulk of your wardrobe still at your old apartment, she’d invited you to borrow something of hers for your date with Seokjin.

You may also be sharing a couple glasses of wine to calm your nerves.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I can see you thinking.”

“It’s nothing.” She holds a sparkling gold number up to your shoulders, then frowns and throws it back down. “Or at least nothing you want to hear, anyway.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on about Tae and I again.”

She shrugs. “I think you’d be great together. Sue me.”

“I could say the same about you and Kook.”

A snort rasps from the back of her throat as she coughs on her wine. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The two of you are more alike than you think,” you say. “And I don’t think you give him enough credit. He’s a good guy.”

She purses her lips, watching clouds go by out the window. “He’s…frustrating.” Her eyelids drop, coming together in a slow blink as her focus turns back to you razor-sharp. “And weren’t you against us together in the first place?”

“Yeah, because it was just sex.”

“It is just sex.”

“Well, I changed my mind.” You take a sip of your drink, let the acidic taste roll around and coat your tongue before it slides down your throat. “If there’s a possibility you two can make each other happy, then you should have that. I think maybe love is rarer than it seems.”

“He and I are far from love.”

“For now,” you say. “But maybe someday?”

She only grimaces like she’s swallowed a bitter pill, giving the tiniest shake of her head before rushing to change the subject. “Tell me about this Seokjin guy.”

“Not much to tell,” you explain. “Joon knows him from the hospital. He’s been very pleasant when we’ve texted. Polite. I’m definitely not getting creep vibes from him.”

“Always a plus. But still, text me the address of the restaurant and a physical description once you’re there.” She pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. “Also, I have some condoms if you want to take a couple.”

“Um, no?”

“Why not? Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“See, that sounds like something Jungkook would say.”

“Well a dumbass clock is right twice a day, or whatever the saying is.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right.”

“Close enough in his case.” Her voice lowers suddenly—delicately—as if to share something confidential even though you’re the only two in the room. “But speaking of protection, did you hear back from the clinic?”

Maya had delicately suggested a couple weeks ago that you should probably get tested for STDs given that you don’t really know how many women Jace had been with and if they were being safe. It was a fair point, as humiliating as it was to consider that he may have found yet another way to rip apart your life, and so you’d gone for an appointment last week, trying not to cry as you provided the necessary samples.

“Negative,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed even though you know you shouldn’t be and that your friend would never judge you. But the fact that you even have to have this conversation at all gnaws at your own sense of self-doubt. “I’m clean.”

She presses her mouth into a line, an acknowledgment of the misfortune of the situation, while simultaneously tilting her chin in approval. “Good.”

You pick at a loose thread hanging off the hem of the dress you’re holding, a dog barking somewhere outside the window as you grasp for literally anything else to talk about. “So where are you guys heading tonight?”

“Who knows?” Maya says with a sigh, leaning back on the bed. “You know it’s like herding cats with them sometimes. I’m supposed to go over there after this, and we’re going to wing it then.”

“So one of our usual clubs?”

“I’d bet my left tit on it.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling that maybe you’d rather be spending time with your friends tonight instead of going on a half-hearted date. But Seokjin seems nice, and you’ve already committed so you’re stuck. “Could you please just try to make sure Tae has some fun?” You chew at your bottom lip. “He’s been so focused on cheering me up, I want to be sure he still has time for himself.”

“Worry not. I’ll help him pick someone up,” Maya says nonchalantly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her entire body perks up, eager that you’ve taken the bait. “Why, does that bother you?”

“Also not what I meant,” you say, crushing down the tiny flip in your stomach at the thought of Taehyung taking someone home as Maya pouts. “I just want him to enjoy himself. I don’t think he’s been doing enough of that lately.”

“Without his other half there with him?” Maya mumbles. “Fat chance.”

You ignore it, knowing she’s baiting you yet again.

But your heart warms all the same.

Seokjin is the embodiment of a perfect gentleman.

He’s handsome—you can’t help but notice as he stands at your approach, introducing himself and coming around the table to pull out your chair for you with a slight bow. When the waiter appears to take your drink order, Seokjin (or “Jin,” as he says to call him) offers to let you pick the wine, so you go with a nice-looking pinot grigio (you haven’t even been able to look at reds since that night). Typical first date conversation flows as you browse the menu, order, and wait for your food, and you find that Jin is soft-spoken without being shy, confident without being arrogant. He tells you about his job as a physical therapist and how he likes to spend his weekends fishing with his brother on his parents’ boat. As you likewise share anecdotes about your publishing job and college shenanigans, Jin listens attentively with kind eyes, asks thoughtful questions, and chuckles at all the right bits.

He’s nice.

But there’s no spark.

You can sense it in his posture, too. His eyes are kind, but there’s pain behind them. He asks questions, but there’s an uncertainty lingering under the surface. He laughs at your jokes but subtly deflates each time like he’s guilty of something.

By the time your meals arrive, you’re ready to chalk it up as a loss.

“Jin,” you begin, tone aiming for the gentleness of “it’s not you, it’s me” proportions. “You seem like a wonderful guy, but for the sake of honesty, it doesn’t feel like either of us sees this going further, does it?”

Jin’s shoulders sag, the mask of obligatory cheerfulness falling away in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” you say quickly, not wanting him to feel bad when he was clearly trying his best to have a good time with you. “I think we both knew going into this that we were each coming to the table with…baggage.”

Jin nods, his eyes now tinged red as he murmurs, “It’s been tough.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ah.” He smiles sadly. “We’ve only just met, and you’re clearly a very sweet woman. I’d feel bad dumping it all out on you when I’ve already wasted your time.”

“Maybe it would be good for both of us?” you suggest. “Obviously we’re both not feeling this from a date standpoint, but maybe what we need is just a friend who understands.”

A slow tip of his chin downwards as he considers. “I think I can do that.”

“And you’re not wasting my time, for the record. I just appreciate the company.”

Jin visibly relaxes at that, his posture easing with the pressure of the date now gone.

“So Namjoon told me you also just got out of a long-term relationship?” you ask, poking at your ravioli.

His chin dips in acknowledgment, voice rough as he states, “Aera.”

“How long were the two of you together?”

“Since high school.” He twists the fabric of his napkin in his hands. “She was my first…everything. Truly. I’ve never loved anyone or anything like her.” A stray thread absentmindedly twines around his finger, the blood darkening under the skin. “We made it all the way through college and my physical therapy schooling doing long distance. Spent the past couple years finally living together. We were happy.” The thread snaps, and he shakes his head. “At least I thought we were.”

You’d swear you can feel your heart literally ache with how forlorn he looks across the table as you gently ask, “I’m guessing she left?”

“I proposed, and she said no.” A strand of dark hair falls in front of his eyes, and he rakes a hand across his head one, two, three times in frustration. “She told me she thinks she’s missing out. That she already lost most of her youth to me, waiting to finish school, when she could’ve been enjoying herself and seeing what else is out there.” He slumps forward, leaning his forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. “But I can’t understand. I spent just as much time with her, and I never doubted it. To me, she was always the one.”

A quiet settles at the table, the conversational white noise of your fellow diners taking over for the moment as you soak in the sudden sense of kinship with the man in front of you—both blindsided by the partners you thought you’d spend the rest of your lives with.

“I get it,” you tell him, feeling the need to give something in return after he opened his heart to a stranger. “My ex—I thought we were about to get engaged too. I was making all of these plans in my head only to find out that we definitely weren’t on the same page.”

Gentle eyes appraise your face. “He broke up with you?”

“He cheated.”

The words taste bitter as they drop from your lips.

“I’m so sorry,” Jin says, and you can tell by his tone and the look on his face that he genuinely means it.

You chew the inside of your cheek until a canine catches the soft corner of your lip and you taste blood. “I found a ring in his desk and then found him in bed with someone else two weeks later.”

“Wow, Y/N.” He bends in as if he’s going to take your hand before seeming to think better of it and sighing. “I can’t even imagine if I had…” A shake of his head like he’s trying to clear an intrusive thought. “Puts my situation into perspective. I feel awful even comparing the two.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you quickly say. “Your hurt is just as valid as mine. But I can tell that you’re a really great guy, Jin. And if Aera can’t see it, I’m sure there’s someone out there who will cherish that.” You smile to yourself, remembering a night not too long ago with tanned skin and old photographs. “That’s the advice Taehyung gave me, at least.”

“Taehyung?”

“Oh, sorry, he’s my best friend.”

There’s an agreeable hiss as Jin sucks his teeth with a nod. “Well, he sounds like a smart man.”

“He’s my favorite person in the whole world.”

“He must be pretty great, then.”

You can’t help but to nod your head eagerly, words rushing out of you. “He cares so deeply. And he’s so, so talented, but he has a tendency to underestimate himself sometimes,” you gush. “But he’s incredible at everything he does. And just…so resilient. I’ve seen him go through things that no person should ever have to endure, and he’s never let it make him resentful. He could be having the worst day of his life, and he’d still give you the shirt off his back. I admire him more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve known each other a while then?”

“Since we were kids,” you explain. “It was lonely growing up in my house—my parents weren’t around a lot—so we’d hang out every day. He always knew how to cheer me up, how to make me smile, even by simply being there. Some days, we’d literally sit in my room doing homework silently for hours, and it just felt nice to share space with somebody else. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have him.”

Jin watches you closely. It reminds you of Namjoon’s typical evaluative expression, and you can instantly understand why they’re friends. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize you’ve been jabbering on, though Jin doesn’t look too bothered, asking, “And the two of you have never…?”

You sheepishly poke at your food again, red as a tomato now based on how hot your cheeks feel. “No, he doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“But you feel that way about him?”

Something strange churns low in your belly. You’re not sure why your usual denials catch on the back of your throat, but they stick there, holding your tongue hostage. It should come easily, the words, “No, just friends” a habit by now.

Why do they suddenly feel like a lie?

Thankfully, you’re saved as your phone flashes in the low light of the restaurant with an incoming call, Jimin’s face appearing on the screen.

You furrow your eyebrows at the smiling photo, Jin still watching you curiously. Jimin knows you’re on a date right now, and he’s supposed to be out clubbing with Taehyung, Maya, and Jungkook. Why would he be calling you? Could it be a case of butt dialing? Then again, maybe he’s just drunk.

Or maybe something is wrong.

Your anxiety wins out, and you make a quick apology to Jin, who kindly waves you off, before swiping to accept the call.

“What’s up? I’m on a date.”

“I know, Y/N, and I’m so sorry, but I think we need you at the apartment. Something’s happened.” Jimin’s voice is frazzled on the other end of the line, the discomfort in your stomach slipping straight to full-on nausea as your fingers tighten around the phone, skin stretching taut around your knuckles when he speaks again.

“It’s Tae.”

The club is loud, music pounding an earthquake into the walls and floors as a tangle of sweaty bodies surges around the dance floor. Jimin thinks to himself that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to get a little too old for this when the image of the writhing mob does more to set off feelings of claustrophobia than set him at ease. Still, once he and the others have made camp at a more secluded table in the back of the room, drinks in hand, he's still appreciative of the time out with his friends—even with Jungkook immediately scurrying off with a glint in his eye, target already in his sights.

"Ugh, look at him," Maya sneers, watching him chat up a blonde woman at the bar. "Shameless. Absolutely shameless."

Jimin can't resist a smirk. "Careful there, Maya, you sound jealous."

"Oh, fuck no!" she shrieks, punctuating this with a sip of her drink. "On the contrary, I hope this works out for him, and they get married and have a million babies and move far, far away. Get him out of my hair."

Both Jimin and Taehyung chuckle at that. "You do know you have the option of not sleeping with him, right?" Jimin asks.

"I take what I can get, and he's good at his craft. I'll give him that." Jimin chokes on his drink, while Taehyung only smiles, amused. "Speaking of getting, anyone catching the eye of either of you gentlemen? I'm happy to take on wing-woman duties tonight."

"No," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "I'm just here to make sure none of you do something stupid."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Translation: the love of my life is out on a date, and I'm trying not to think about it. How about you, Chim?"

"I don't know." Jimin shrugs. "Let me get a couple drinks in me and then see how I feel."

"Suit yourselves. But just remember that I offered when I ask one of you two to help a girl out." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Especially you, Tae. I know your heart is taken with your endless 'will-they-won't-they' thing with Y/N, but you could always sell the fake ex play better than Jimin here…Tae?"

But Taehyung is no longer paying attention, eyes now intensely locked on the crowd like a hawk zeroing in on prey. Maya follows his line of sight to a couple grinding on the edge of the dance floor, a dark-haired woman and a man with a distinct, bright green jacket—

"Oh my God, is that Jace?!"

Jimin's head snaps around, and even from a distance, there's no denying it. Jace tosses his head back, laughing at something the woman says, before he presses into her further, leaning back down to whisper something in her ear. Jimin quickly turns towards Taehyung, who sits terrifyingly still, eyes still zoned in on Jace and his date.

"Tae, I know you're angry. We all are," he begins, gripping Taehyung's forearm in an attempt to grab his attention. "But you cannot confront him. Not here, not now. Y/N is doing great—she's finally starting to move on. Don't undo that by poking the bear."

"He's right," Maya says, leaning in. "You're not going to accomplish anything here. It's loud, there's too many people—he'll just brush you off. And I know you care about her, Tae, but really? Not your battle to fight. Let it go."

Taehyung continues to sit in silence until Jace and the woman disappear into the crowd, and it's like a spell is suddenly lifted as he blinks rapidly at his friends. "No, you're right." He rubs a finger at the space between his eyes. "Y/N is a grown woman. She doesn't need me to protect her."

"See? A man of sense," Maya lilts. "Not like Mr. Don Juan over here about to stick his tongue into yet another college girl who thinks his immature ass counts as an ‘older man’." She nods her head towards the bar where the blonde woman has positioned herself closer to Jungkook, his hands now encircling her waist.

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow, teasing, "You’re not in college though."

Maya's jaw drops, and she puts a hand to her heart in feigned offense. "Wow! Someone's feisty tonight."

"Don't underestimate Tae when he's in one of his moods," Jimin laughs. "And don't overestimate Kook. I bet you twenty bucks he doesn't take her home."

"I'll take that action. He's got her wrapped around him already. Easy money." They shake on it, and the conversation devolves into trying to find someone in the crowd for Maya to shoot her shot with. However, in spite of her previous claim that she "takes what she can get," she finds an excuse to brush off every potential candidate ("Too short…too tall…too rich-looking?").

(Jimin suspects it may have something to do with the man who is now kissing the blonde at the bar.)

An hour later, and they're still parked at the table and on their third round of drinks. Jace has not resurfaced since they first spotted him, much to Jimin's relief, and he hopes he snuck out to a different club somewhere across town or maybe even a different country. Taehyung sports an easy smile now, alcohol loosening up his body as he laughs at a story Maya is telling about two guys who once had a fist-fight over her in this very club during college. Still, Jimin keeps an eye on their surroundings, likewise wary about what might happen if Jace spots them.

"And thankfully, the cops didn't wind up getting called, but oh God, can you imagine?" Maya howls, her and Taehyung in near-hysterics as she finishes up her story.

"Geez," Taehyung gasps, wiping at his eyes. "You're gonna make me piss my pants. I need the bathroom."

He stands from the table and wanders off in the direction of the restrooms, Maya staring at his back the whole way.

"We need to get that guy laid," she dramatically sighs.

"While he's still in crisis mode over Y/N’s breakup?" Jimin scoffs. "Good luck with that one."

"I don't get those two—I really don't." Maya rattles her perfectly-manicured nails against the table. "She's single for the first time in four years. He's been helplessly in love with her for so much longer. I don't know what he's waiting for."

"I mean it's only been what, a month?" Jimin muses. "He probably feels like it's too soon to make a move. Which is fair."

"Jimin. You're a man. You have eyes. Not only is Y/N pretty, but she has that whole—" She waves a hand in front of her face. "—'take me home to meet your parents’ energy to her. She won't be on the market for long, and you know it. She's already got this date with this Seokjin guy—and Tae told her to do it! It's like he's trying to sabotage himself! And then you have Y/N being smitten with him as always, too. I mentioned helping Tae find a hook-up earlier, and she looked like she was going to hurl."

He shrugs, tapping the side of his glass in thought. “I think they’re just scared. Imagine knowing someone for as long as they have and having to take that leap and risk losing it all.”

“You are out of your mind if you think either of them would reject each other,” Maya snorts.

“You don’t think Y/N might not want to take the chance that they fall apart? Especially after what she’s going through?”

“Tae wouldn’t do that to her,” she frigidly says, as if to challenge the very audacity of the thought.

“I’m not saying he would; I’m just saying she might be guarded.”

“So the solution is for him to help set her up with other guys at his own expense? That’s not fair to him either.”

He tilts his head in subtle agreement but adds, "Look, I want to see the two of them together as much as the next person. But maybe we need to just…let them come to it on their own? I mean, we've tried nudging them in the past, and it clearly hasn't worked. But I have faith they'll get there. Tae can be an idiot, but not that much of an id—"

His thought is cut off by screams and the sound of a commotion out on the dance floor. Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, Jimin bolts from his chair and darts into the crowd, Maya close on his heels. They shove their way through the surge of bodies—pressing back and away from the source of the disturbance—until they reach the spot where a small space has cleared out, and Jimin hears Maya swear loudly behind him.

Taehyung is knelt over Jace on the floor, his fists connecting with the latter's face and head over and over in a frenzy. Jace lies there, face bloodied and clearly dazed, his hands weakly raised in front of him in a futile attempt to shield himself from the blows, but Taehyung is relentless. His arm swings down on a repeated loop as if powered by a motor, and even though the music continues to pound above them, Jimin would swear he can hear the sound of knuckles cracking against flesh and bone. He rushes forward with Maya, both of them grabbing ahold of Taehyung's shoulders to pull him back, but he struggles against them, still trying desperately to connect his punches.

Jungkook suddenly materializes out of nowhere, a halfway-finished beer in his hand that he promptly empties over Jace’s head before grabbing Taehyung around the waist and dragging him back through the crowd. The three of them are able to muscle Taehyung towards the door, Jungkook breaking off to intercept the two bouncers who are stalking their way over as Jimin shoves Taehyung out onto the sidewalk.

"What the fuck, man!"

Taehyung's eyes are wild, his gray hoodie dotted with blood. "I wasn't finished," he says, deep voice chillingly calm.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Maya screams. "Are you trying to get yourself arrested?! Over that piece of shit?!”

“You said you were going to the fucking bathroom,” Jimin angrily adds. “How the hell did you wind up in a fistfight?!”

“I saw him. I hit him. I’m going to do it again,” Taehyung bluntly states. “Let me back in there.”

“The hell we are!” Maya exclaims, and Taehyung may have a few good inches on her, but she steps toe-to-toe with him to block his way. “He's not worth it, Tae, he's not!"

"She is!" Taehyung snaps, and Jimin notices his hands start to shake as the adrenaline begins to wear off. "She…you guys saw her that night. You saw her. In all this time, I have never seen her that broken. Never." His voice cracks, and a sheen appears behind his eyes, tears threatening to spill. "So get out of my way because I am going to make that motherfucker feel every tear I've had to wipe from her face because of him!"

"You're not." The door of the club swings shut as Jungkook joins them outside. "We're leaving now."

Taehyung takes a step forward, pleading, "Jungkook, I—"

"No, Tae, you're done." Jungkook moves to grab his arm, but Taehyung recognizes defeat and shakes him off, pulling his hood over his head and tramping off in the direction of their apartment. The others follow behind, close enough to keep a watchful eye out but with enough distance to give him space to cool down.

"How did it go inside?" Jimin asks quietly.

Jungkook pushes a hand through his hair. “We lucked out. I've worked with those guys before, and we're friendly. Gave them a quick rundown of the situation, and they're going to try and contain it, but…you know…" He shrugs. "That was technically assault."

"What that was was idiotic," Maya hisses.

"It was awesome."

"Kook!"

"What?! It was. Would've thought about taking care of it myself if Tae hadn't beaten me to it. Guy deserved it."

"At the cost of possible jail?" Jimin chimes in. "We all hate the guy, but I don't think it's doing Y/N a favor if she has to bail us out of—" He slaps a hand to his forehead. "Oh, fuck, Y/N."

The other two look at him in question, and he hesitates. "Do we…do we tell her?" he asks slowly. "She's on that date. What if it's going well?"

The three of them fall into silence, looking uneasily at Taehyung's back. He walks with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and heels digging into the sidewalk. Jimin watches as he takes a kick at an empty can, sending it flying into the gutter.

"It's Tae," Maya murmurs suddenly from his left. "She'd want to know."

"Shit, yeah." Jimin presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the headache that is quickly developing. "I'll call her—see if she can meet us back at the apartment."

"I'm going to call Hobi too," Jungkook says, phone already out. "I've punched someone before and can guarantee—his hand is fucked up."

Jimin nods, slowing his steps so he can fall behind the others for a bit of privacy. He doesn't know how the night spiraled so out of control, but he can't shake the existential feeling that something in the cosmos has changed.

Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he takes a deep breath of the night air and dials your number.

Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys outside the guys' apartment, struggling to grasp the spare that Taehyung lent you when you decided to stay with them. Jimin had said to take your time if you had to, but the thought of something being wrong with Taehyung had you in a panic. He hadn’t given you any details either, saying that they’d explain it all once you were there.

Jin had hurried you out at the distressed look on your face after you hung up, telling you that he’d take care of dinner and to go take care of your friend (you’ll later try to have Namjoon pass along some money for your meal that Jin will steadfastly refuse). Not wanting to stand and wait for an Uber, you had half-run the twelve blocks from the restaurant instead.

Out of breath, you gasp out a, "What happened?!" when Jungkook opens the door at the sound of your scrambling, not even giving him a chance to answer before you're pushing past him inside.

Taehyung sits on the edge of the couch with Hoseok kneeling in front of him, first aid kit at his feet. From here, you can see that his right hand is littered with cuts, purple bruises already forming across his swollen knuckles even as Hoseok tends to the wounds. Taehyung doesn't look up when you walk in, his eyes hooded and fixed on his hand.

"What the fuck happened?!" You repeat, but the room is quiet for a moment more as Jungkook, Jimin, and Maya all look at each other as if they don't know what to say.

Jimin breaks first. "We, ah…" he begins from his armchair seat. "We ran into your ex."

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you immediately feel dizzy. Images of Jace flood your mind: his smile, his hands, his voice—him tangled up in your bed when you got back from the beach house.

"He was at the club," Jimin continues. "And Tae…he, um—"

"He kicked his ass!" Jungkook chirps, an unmistakable hint of delight in his voice.

A tornado of feelings rips through your insides, a blend of confusion and anxiety that has you momentarily reeling. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any residual feelings for Jace, the tiniest part of your brain in a worry over the state he might be in right now. But it all melts away when you look down at the man who still won't meet your eyes, his purpling hand making your heart twist even harder.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, and Taehyung finally lifts his head to look at you. His gaze is stoic, but there's a haze of emotion behind his eyes that you can't place.

"I'm fine," he says, but his voice is tight and gravelly.

Hoseok tuts, dabbing a spot of ointment across Taehyung's knuckles. "Let's hope you stay that way. I don't think you'll need any stitches, and nothing seems to be broken, but we'll have to keep an eye on this to make sure nothing gets infected." He pulls bandages out of the first aid kit and begins wrapping Taehyung's hand.

You're afraid to ask this next question, but the words fall out anyway. "Did the police come?"

Jimin shakes his head. "We got out of there quick, and Kook talked to the bouncers that were friends of his—" Jungkook gives a two-finger salute from his perch by the kitchen. "—they said they'd try to take care of it, but who knows." He pauses before asking, "Do you think Jace would press charges?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly. You've known Jace to be proud, but you're not sure if that means he'll brush this off as a simple scrap or want to save face in some way.

"If he does, I know a lawyer who might be able to help," Maya pipes up at the opposite end of the couch. "He's a…friend. Owes me a favor."

"A lawyer friend?" Jungkook asks, eyes narrowing. "Do we know him? What's his name?"

"Last name: Out. First name: Butt."

Jungkook scoffs at that, but you also hear him mutter under his breath, "He sounds like a butt."

"Well as much as I would like to stay and chat about fights and butts," Hoseok says, bandaging the last of Tae's hand and closing his kit, "Sunny and I have a meeting with the wedding coordinator in the morning so I’ve gotta go. Keep that clean, and text me immediately if anything looks or feels wrong or if the swelling doesn’t go down. I can swing by in a couple days to look at it again."

Taehyung nods silently, and Hoseok heads for the door, waving as Jungkook shouts, "Thanks, doc!"

An awkward silence sweeps the room as the door swings shut, the only sound being that of Jimin anxiously tapping his heels against the floor. Maya reads the room, looking around at each person and eventually settling on you and Taehyung. Your posture is tense as you stiffly hover by the side of the couch, shifting your feet, while Taehyung is back to avoiding eye contact.

"I think I'm going to head out too," she says, standing up and shooting Jimin a pointed look.

"Do you need a ride home?" Jungkook asks. His tone says that he's trying to be nonchalant, but his eyes betray his eagerness.

"I'm a big girl, Kook," Maya drawls. "I can get myself home."

"Would you let lawyer friend drive you home?"

She rolls her eyes dramatically, her whole head tilting back in exasperation. "Oh my God, you're insufferable. Fine."

Jungkook moves for his keys, a certain spring in his step, while Maya addresses the rest of you. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Please, please try to stay out of trouble until then. Looking at you, Tae." And then she and Jungkook exit the apartment, Maya slipping money into Jimin’s hand as she goes.

Jimin lets out a heavy sigh. "Well he's not coming home tonight." He stands and stretches his arms above his head. "I'm gonna turn in. Let me know if either of you needs something, yeah?" He shuffles away to his bedroom, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

Taehyung continues to sit still as a statue, staring at the wall, and so you take a careful seat next to him, slowly so as to not jostle the cushions too much. When he keeps his eyes straight ahead, you gently take his injured hand between both of yours. His body visibly softens as you graze your fingers back and forth across his palm.

"Tae…"

He looks at you then, and you take the time to examine his face. There's no guilt or shame in his expression, but you see a pain there that has you reaching up to rub at the creases between his eyes.

His eyelids droop down at your touch. “I’m sorry about your date.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “It wasn’t going that well anyway.”

You see a muscle jump in his jaw, concern tightening the corners of his mouth. “Did he do something?”

“Easy.” You resume your tracing of his palm. “He was very kind and respectful, and we had an oddly sweet conversation. Just realized that neither of us is in the proper mindset for it to be anything more than maybe a friendship.”

A hum comes from deep in his throat. “Alright.”

“Certainly no need for you to fight any other men on my behalf,” you say, and he shoots you an uneasy look before staring down your reflections in the dark of the TV screen.

You take it in with him, observing the shadowy duplicates who feel like they’re sitting across from you. The linked arms, the soothing press of your knee to his—your current situation may feel anxiety-inducing, but the figures mirrored in the screen look comfortable. Unified.

"Are you mad?" he whispers after a moment.

The question catches you off guard. "Why would I be?"

"I know you still care about him." Taehyung swallows, glancing down at your intertwined hands. "You wouldn't still be this upset over him if you didn't."

You let his words sink in, not altogether untrue but certainly not at the forefront of your mind right now. "I'm not worried about him—I'm worried about you." Taehyung's eyes flash at that with something akin to confusion, and you chew at your lower lip. "I've never seen you like this."

It's true. Taehyung, in spite of his mild nature, has always had a protective streak in him. One time, when the two of you were twelve, a few boys in your class had spent a week bullying you about your clothes—calling you a “spoiled, pretentious bitch”—only to come back from gym class one day to find their shirts in the garbage, cut to bits. But never—in all of your years together—have you ever known him to get violent.

"I tried to let it go. I did," Taehyung insists. He picks at his bandages, and you cover his hand with your own to still him. "I just…" His voice cracks, eyes suddenly glassy. "I couldn't stop seeing you on the bathroom floor that night."

The tears spill over, and you pull him into you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he gasps into your shoulder. He's trying to force the emotion down—you can feel it in the way his body trembles—and so you tangle your fingers in the spot where his hairline meets the back of his neck. You know it's always been a soothing spot for him, and his breathing slowly evens out as you coast your fingers back and forth, a rogue piece of your brain taking pleasure in the feel of his soft hair under your hands.

"Tae," you whisper again once he's calmed, and he pulls back to look at you, face entirely too close. Your heart stutters at the sheer amount of raw affection in his expression, and the words you were about to say catch in your throat along with your breath. Since when does being around him make you so nervous?

"I'm sorry," Taehyung murmurs, entirely oblivious to your current internal struggle. "I know this isn't about me—"

"No," you quickly say, snapping out of your inner turmoil. "Tae, you're allowed to have feelings, you know?" Your fingers absentmindedly run along his neck again. "And like you told me that night, I will be fine. I will be. It just…takes a bit of time. And I appreciate everything you've done to try and help get me there."

You try to convey just how much you mean this in your tone, lacing your words with every bit of gratitude you've built up over the past month (over the past years). Taehyung seems to understand, his thumb coming up to gently brush against your chin.

A glimpse of white bandages turns you sullen, raising your hands to delicately graze against their soft edges and chart the way they wrap around his knuckles. He winces as you touch them, and frustration crests like a wave in your chest; you hate that he’s hurting, hate that your own troubles are the cause of it.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” you sigh, dripping with guilt.

“I’d do anything for you.”

His words are firm, and he cants forward as he says them until his forehead rests against yours, a single shared breath haunting the space between your lips.

"I just don't ever want to see you like that again," he whispers.

And it's all too much: your pulse spikes, the blood pounding through your veins at his nearness and the honey-sweet words rolling off his tongue. This time, you're the one who can't look him in the eye as you put some distance between your bodies, abruptly shifting away from him on the couch.

"You won't."

The tension settles in thick, and Taehyung gazes at you, undoubtedly perplexed by your sudden withdrawal. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you nod at his hand. "You had an eventful day. I'm fine out here if you want to sleep?"

He slowly shakes his head. "No, uh…I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Might just stay up and watch some TV. You can take my bed, though, if you're tired."

The charged atmosphere still has you slightly shaken—your scrambled brain trying to make sense of the tingling in your stomach—but concern for Taehyung ultimately wins out, and you tell him that you'll stay up to keep him company. He doesn't argue with that, simply flips on your favorite cooking channel and drags your legs into his lap as you stretch out.

It's how Jungkook finds you as he slinks back in the next morning, smiling to himself as he drapes a blanket over your sleeping forms.

July is beginning its descent into August, stifling clouds of heat stuffing themselves into roads and alleyways, when your sign to move back into your own apartment comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook almost getting a full look at your bare ass one Saturday morning.

He immediately flips his back to you, frantically covering his face with his arms and bellowing, "I'M NOT LOOKING!" at the top of his lungs.

"Jeon, you'd better keep your eyes covered or I swear to God I'll put your nuts in a vise!"

"Is that like a kink thi—"

"Do NOT." You rush to dress yourself, giving him the signal when it's safe to turn around.

He doesn't look the least bit ashamed, the bastard.

"Not that it's necessarily unwelcome, but why were you almost naked in my living room?"

You glare at him. "Jimin is taking one of his long ass showers."

"And Tae's at work. Just use his room."

You'd thought about it, but the idea of getting naked in your best friend's bedroom had made you blush, like you'd be crossing some sort of line.

"I thought I could change fast enough," you say, not wanting to have to explain your reasoning to Jungkook of all people.

"Well you obviously thought wrong." He smirks, and you already know what's coming. "Nice bra, by the way."

You pick up a throw pillow off the couch and fling it at him. You'd been shooting for his head, wanting to smack the smug grin right off his face, but your aim is about two feet off and he catches it effortlessly anyway.

What an ass.

“No wonder Maya is always pissed at you,” you jab. “Constantly flirting with other girls.”

His demeanor shifts ever so slightly—his shoulders lower, and you can tell by the way his cockiness subtly but immediately deflates that you’ve wounded him. A pang of regret for your words hits at the sight of wide doe eyes.

“She talks about me to you?”

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible, but you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so innocent, tentative hopefulness coloring his face.

“Not, like, regularly, but sometimes, sure,” you say, not quite certain how to handle this new edition of Jungkook.

“What does she say?”

Wow, those big, round Bambi eyes are really doing work.

“Just that, you know.” You scratch at your ear, not wanting to accidentally throw Maya under any buses while also honoring your friendship with Jungkook. “You’re kind of annoying sometimes.”

That clearly doesn’t make him happy, his jaw tightening with discontent as he grimaces. “Right.”

“I mean think about it, Kook,” you say, compelled to defend Maya. “You hook up with her, and then flirt and pick up other girls right in front of her face.”

“We’re not exclusive!” he exclaims.

“Maybe she wants to be?”

“But that was her idea!”

That stops you. Not once since you found out the two of them were hooking up did it cross your mind that Jungkook would ever be the one unhappy with their arrangement. He’s never had a serious girlfriend in the entire time you’ve known him. Up until this moment, you were sure he’d be a perpetual bachelor. “What?”

“She wanted to be non-exclusive.”

“And you…don’t?”

He looks away from you, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know.”

No. It can’t be.

“Wait a second.”

You move to stand in front of him, taking his face in your hands so you can turn him every which way, inspecting his face. Pink cheeks, a creased brow, jawline so hard you could probably cut yourself on it.

“You’re flustered!” you shriek. Jungkook quickly uncrosses his arms to bat your hands away, reeling back to put some distance between the two of you.

“I’m not!”

“You are!” you shout, following him as he roams around the room. “Jeon Jungkook is flustered!”

“Bah, you’re insane, woman.” He swings a dismissive hand even as the two of you settle in at the kitchen island.

“You’d be cute together!”

“She’s too stubborn.”

“I can totally see it!”

“It would never work.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Hey, worry about your own love life.”

He means it to be teasing, obviously not thinking too hard about his words because the second he realizes what he’s just said, he pales. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say, sobered. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Still—“

“You’re right. I’m avoiding things.” You peer over at the pull-out couch, still in bed-mode with your blankets and pillows messily strewn across it. Your suitcase, meanwhile, sits off to the side with the contents tangled and half-overflowing.

In short, you’re a mess.

The guys have never made you feel unwelcome, have only ever made it clear that you are free to stay as long as you’d like, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t felt your time here beginning to weigh on your shoulders, knowing you’re only putting off the inevitable.

You feel like you’ve been (slowly, but surely) making emotional progress, but going back to the apartment might threaten to undo all of that. Although it may have felt like it at times growing up, you’ve technically never lived alone, and you’ve grown accustomed to having your people around. In fact, you thrive on it. Being around your friends is the only reason why you’ve been doing as well as you have.

You love having someone to come home to.

“I need to move back soon,” you tell Jungkook. “But returning to the apartment is actually terrifying.”

He considers you for a moment, leaning his weight back on the granite countertop. “Do you know what helps me when I’m not confident about something?”

“Getting a stranger to moan your name?”

“Well, yes, but aside from that.” You shrug, and he grins. “I just do it.”

“Wow, Jeon,” you say, with the appropriate amount of eye roll. “Reaching real deep on that one.”

“I mean it!” he urges. “Just need to rip off the band-aid. The longer you dwell on it, the harder it will be in the end.”

That’s…oddly decent advice.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you might have a point,” you say, somewhat thrown off by this flustered, good-advice-giving version of your friend.

“And speaking of things being harder, that last bit of advice also goes for forepl—“

“Aaaaaaand it’s ruined.”

“I’m just saying it has multiple applications!”

“Yeah, it’s time for me to move back out,” you say. “I can’t live with you anymore.”

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing at his jaw. “Tae is going to be devastated though.”

Your head jerks around. “What? Why?”

“Because he likes having you here,” he says, looking at you like you just asked him what color the sky is. “The guy punched out your ex for you. I think it’s safe to say he enjoys having you around.”

You wince at the mention of the club, a nerve jumping in your chest every time you’re reminded that Taehyung almost got arrested defending your honor. Nothing had ever come of the fight, so you’re assuming Jace has chosen to just let it go, and for that, you’re thankful. You never would have been able to live with it if Taehyung had suffered serious consequences over your own personal crisis.

You’d do the same thing for him, sure. But that’s different.

“Jimin and I will miss you too, of course,” Jungkook continues. “And I’m still kind of sad I didn’t get my own shot in on that asshole that night. Dumped a beer on him though.” He smiles at you like he’d be wagging his tail if he had one.

“My hero.”

“Yeah, the mayor said I’m getting a medal.”

“Oh, really? When’s the ceremony.”

“Sunday afternoon.”

You snap your fingers. “Ah, I can’t make it. I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, a super important thing. Way more important than your thing.”

“You’re a heart-breaker, Y/N. My ego will never recover.” He grins again, playfully rapping his fingers against the counter as he stands to grab a drink.

“Yep,” he says, voice muffled on the other side of the fridge door. “Definitely going to miss you around here.”

As Jungkook predicted, Taehyung frowns when he gets home from work and you tell him about your plans to move back into your apartment at the end of the week, perhaps sensing your apprehension about returning to the scene of the crime. He insists he’ll come with you and sleep over the first night for support and to make sure you’re okay being back there.

“Whatever you need,” he says. “You’re not going to face it alone.”

Your apartment is pitch black when you swing the door open, the quietness hovering in the air making you feel like you're suffocating. You flick on the light, and you're struck by how much emptier the space is. Jace definitely came by at some point as all of his things are no longer present: his gaming system, his turntable, the tiny rhino statue he had picked out on your last vacation together. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a glint of a key on the kitchen counter.

Taehyung tries to give you space by busying himself—turning on lights and opening cabinets in a seeming attempt to take inventory of what Jace left behind. He steals glances at you every now and then as you slowly move through the living room, hands reaching out to lightly brush at the furniture with no real goal in mind. This is supposed to be your home, but you feel like a stranger—the ghosts of late nights binging TV shows, giggling wildly at inside jokes, promising forever lurk around every corner.

When you take a hesitant step inside the bedroom, your breath catches in your throat and you choke on a sob. The bedsheets are still in a tangle, a relic of that night seven weeks ago when your whole world fell apart.

Taehyung senses something is wrong and bolts to your side in an instant, hands steadying you where you slump against the doorframe. He turns you in his arms, and his fingers come up to cradle your face in his direction.

"Don't look at that, look at me," he murmurs, thumbs rubbing away the tears that have begun to fall. "What do you need?"

To run, to hide, to crawl into the deepest hole you can find and scream your lungs out until the pain subsides. But you can't. Instead you focus on the brown of Taehyung's eyes, let it ease you back down until your breathing steadies and your heart rate levels.

"A shower," you finally choke out. "I need a shower."

He takes a final swipe at your tear-stained cheeks and offers up a small smile. "Okay. Where are the towels?"

You nod in the direction of the closet as Taehyung ushers you out towards the bathroom. It feels empty in here too, the single toothbrush staring you down from its holder and counter notably absent of shaving cream and hair gel. You tear your eyes away from the vanity to start the water running, and Taehyung pops up a moment later with a towel in hand and a fresh pair of pajamas he must've found in your dresser.

"Take your time," he says. "And if you need anything, anything at all, just give a shout. I'll be right out here." His cheeks take on a hint of pink when you quirk an eyebrow at him. "I'll close my eyes. Promise."

You thank him as he steps out so you can strip and get into the tub. The water is set to a near-scalding temperature and you welcome the sting, scrubbing away at your skin as if trying to erase all of the memories that are once again flooding back.

Your first date at the art museum, where he pointed to a painting of an extravagant rose garden and said it reminded him of you.

Your first kiss under the stars, the two of you losing track of time as he pulled you in again and again.

Endless Saturdays wandering around the city, not caring where you wound up as long as his hand was in yours.

Planning your someday wedding, his whispered promises of, Soon, beautiful, soon, sealed with a signature wink.

Picking out names for children who would never be born.

The tears are pouring out of you now, but you let them. One cry, you promise yourself. One final, good cry to wash it all away, and then it'll be time to let go for good.

You don't know how long you spend in the shower, but by the time you step back out into the living room, Taehyung has already set himself up with a makeshift bed on the couch. He lifts his head when he sees you and, taking note of your red-rimmed eyes, gets up to pull you into a hug.

For a moment he just holds you, arms banding tight around your shoulders before he says, "I cleaned out your fridge. Most of it was spoiled." He hesitates, pulling back to look at you. "And I changed the bedsheets." A hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I actually ran downstairs and threw them straight in the dumpster, I hope that's okay."

His thoughtfulness overwhelms you, and you'd probably start crying again if not for the fact that you don't think you have a single tear left in your body. As you gape at him, Taehyung interprets your silence for disapproval and quickly adds, "I'll buy you new ones."

You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back into you, sinking your face into the crook of his neck as you whisper a, "Thank you."

He seems to falter for a second before returning the hug, and as you give him one last squeeze he steps back, scrutinizing you more closely. "You look like you could use some sleep."

"Yeah," you admit, eyeing the cramped set-up on the couch. "Is that going to be okay for you though?"

"Absolutely," he chimes, bounding over to the couch to settle back in. He has to bend his long legs to fit, toes pressing into the fabric of the arm. "See? Comfy." When he catches the uneasy look on your face, he says, "Honestly. Y/N. Nowhere else I'd rather be."

You give him a hesitant nod—you know it'd be useless to try to convince him otherwise. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" He flips onto his back, popping an arm behind his head and closing his eyes.

You cross the room slowly and, just like last time, find yourself pausing at the threshold of your bedroom. The bed is no longer a mess, fresh sheets now stretched neatly across the mattress, but as you look at it, it strikes you that you have never slept here alone. And while you may have committed yourself to moving on from this moment forward, you know this has the power to break you. Tomorrow, maybe, but right now, you're nowhere near ready for this.

You look back and forth between your bed and where Taehyung is lying, his legs now half-draped over the couch's arm, and you make up your mind.

"Tae?"

"Hmm?" He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at you.

"Can you sleep in here with me?"

He blinks, jaw dropping in surprise. "Uhh…are you sure?"

His hesitancy has you losing some of your nerve, and you have to look away. "I just don't think I can…" You purse your lips and shake your head. "You don't have to. I just—"

"No, it's okay. We can—yeah," he blurts, already standing up.

He sidesteps you in the doorway, taking your hand and pulling you into the room after him with a soft smile. "C'mon. Like I said, whatever you need."

Taehyung pulls back the covers so the two of you can crawl in. It's awkward at first, both of your bodies lying stiff across from each other. Physical affection has never been altogether uncommon for the two of you, but this—lying in the bed you used to share with your ex—feels like crossing a line of intimacy that you've never experienced with him before.

But then Taehyung laughs, reaching over to take your hand in his. "I know we’re a long way from high school, but we can do this, yeah? Not like we haven’t shared a bed before."

It breaks the tension, and you giggle back, looking down at where he's laced your fingers together. His knuckles are still lightly bruised with touches of yellow and green, and you run your free hand over the marks, smile drooping.

"I'm really sorry about this," you murmur.

"I'm not." Taehyung's forehead creases. "I'd do it again."

"Please don't," you say quickly. "If you see him again, just let it go."

He frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but you cut in. "Not because I care about him. I just don't want you getting into any trouble on his account. He's not worth it."

Taehyung briefly clenches his jaw but eventually gives you a slow nod. "Well I think my point was made anyway."

"Thank you," you say, pulling his hand up to brush a light kiss to his bruises. "I know I keep saying that, but I really can't tell you enough."

"You don't need to thank me. I know you'd do the same." His face breaks out into one of his boxy smiles. "Remember when Luna broke up with me, and I barely left the apartment for two weeks? You stopped by every day to make sure I was still eating."

You hum at the memory. It had been two weeks of dropping off take-out and commandeering the boys' kitchen to make large batch meals, even harassing Jimin to give you regular updates on whether or not Taehyung had eaten lunch. Jace had given you grief about it at the time, whining that Taehyung was a grown man who could take care of himself, especially when the two of you had just moved in and were still working on unpacking.

“And my birthday junior year of high school.” He’s quiet as he remembers, eyes fixed on some spot over your shoulder as if he’s rewatching the moments on film. “You got me those shoes I’d been absolutely enamored with.”

His old ones had been falling apart entirely, soles curling away from the fabric like orange peels in the sun. Barely even looking away from the bottle at that point, there was virtually no chance that Taehyung’s father would give him enough money to buy him new ones at the thrift store, let alone the high-end sneakers you’d always catch him subtly staring at every time the two of you wandered around the mall after school.

So of course, you’d done the only logical thing and surprised him with them for his birthday, the look of complete elation on his face making your heart leap in ways you didn’t even know it could.

A touch of joy slips into his expression too now as he picks another recollection out of his brain. "Or that time in college when I got stuck in that bathroom across campus with no toilet paper and you left class to break into the men's room and bring me some."

You scrunch your nose at that, saying, "We swore never to talk about that again!"

Taehyung laughs. "I know, but what I'm trying to say is that that's what we do. We take care of each other."

The truth of the statement hits you like a truck as you're suddenly anchoring yourself in Taehyung's eyes again.

It's as though every moment of the last seventeen years comes rushing back to you all at once—every joy, every celebration, every tear, every heartbreak. And at your side in each memory are the same brown eyes you're staring into right now.

A feeling that you're too scared to place stirs in your chest and has you panicking, and you can see that Taehyung isn't unaffected by the moment either as his lips part and he studies you with a newfound softness. When he reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear, the feeling in your chest swells and snaps, and you bury your face in his chest, tears starting afresh, as he wraps his arms around you.

"I'm here," he whispers. "I'm right here."

You press your hands into his back, clinging to him, and hope the pressure conveys what your words can't—what you don't even have a name for yet.

Your sobs subside after a while, but you stay wrapped up in each other. Right before you fall asleep, one final flashback of Jace leaks into your mind—words he had spit at you before leaving this place that night.

I've never been your priority. No one can be. Not when he's around.

It's hard work dragging yourself awake the next morning, your eyelids heavy and begging you to close them for just five more minutes.

But you realize that the side of the bed next to you is not only empty—it's cold. Reaching out to your nightstand, you flip your phone over to check the time. 10:42. The morning is practically gone.

You pull yourself out of bed and shuffle into the living room where you spot a figure standing in the kitchen. Taehyung is busy at the stove, white t-shirt tight across his shoulders as he works, humming to himself, and you stop for a moment to take him in (was he always this broad?).

"Good mood today?" you say. He turns, flashing you a smile over his shoulder.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" He catches himself, realizing he might sound a little too chipper for the occasion and quietly asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," you shrug, and it's the truth. The seemingly endless crying the night before had been exhausting, but it also provided you with something of a catharsis, leaving you feeling almost refreshed today.

"Good," Taehyung says. He nods to the plate on the counter next to him. "I made pancakes."

"The chocolate chip ones?"

He places a hand over his heart and looks at you in mock offense. “Of course. What do you take me for?”

You laugh and wander over to the dining room table where a bright bouquet of lilies now sits in a vase. Pinching one of the delicate, silky petals between your fingers, you ask, "What's this?"

Taehyung glances over his shoulder again, blushing slightly when he sees what you're looking at. "Oh, I um—" He fumbles for his words. "I ran out to get you some groceries and saw the florist next door. Figured they could, you know, brighten things up in here a little."

"You didn't have to do that," you tell him softly, but he brushes you off with a shrug.

"I wanted to."

You reach for the petals again, the bright orange seeming to cast a glow on your skin like a sunset. “You know these look like—“

“The ones you used to collect on our walks growing up?” He chuckles at your stunned silence. “Yeah, I know.”

It still surprises you sometimes—the depth of his thoughtfulness and how well he knows you—and before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping up behind him at the stove. You wind your arms around his middle, pressing your forehead to the space between his shoulder blades and allowing your breath to warm the cotton of his t-shirt. It’s soft—intimate—and you feel Taehyung tighten up under your touch, his entire body going rigid.

“Y/N—“

“You know you mean the world to me, right?”

It’s a near-whisper—you sound like you’re on the brink of tears—and maybe that’s why Taehyung’s hard lines soften at the sound of your voice, turning in your arms so he can reciprocate the embrace and press a cheek to your temple. He doesn’t say a word, just holds you tight as you lean your face into his chest and inhale the comforting scent of pancake batter, laundry detergent, and honey-scented soap.

You think you could stay here forever.

Last night’s mood seems to linger in the air like little beams of light that warm your skin in the best way. You recall falling asleep in these same arms, this same scent wrapped around you—how it was easily the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

It's different, this space between you now. Has been since the night in the bathroom. You and Taehyung may have gone through a metric fuck ton of pain over the course of your lives, but there's no denying that this breakup is pushing your friendship into a new form, molding it into a new shape.

You're too nervous to dwell on it, but damn, if you aren't going to take advantage of how good it feels to cling to him right now. You want to wrap yourself around him like a koala—draw your legs around his waist and bury your nose into the hollow space at his collarbone.

What a great way to scare him off too, your brain says, even as your heart argues, He's stuck with you through worse.

You're tempted—seriously considering dragging him over to the couch so you can snuggle him properly—when the fire alarm goes off, the pancake on the stove burnt and blackened.

Taehyung releases you in a flash, spinning to shut off the burner and pull the pan off the stove as you rush to the hallway closet for a broom. You swing it underneath the alarm until the smoke clears, and the device stops its blaring shrieks. As silence filters back in, Taehyung tips the burnt pancake into the trash, the previous moment ruined.

"That'd be our luck to burn this place down your first day back," he jokes.

You tip your head up, already thinking this may have been a bad idea and wishing you were back at the guys' place. "Maybe not the worst thing in the world."

He approaches you slowly but deliberately, raising a long finger to press at your chin until you've lowered your gaze enough to look him in the eyes. Taking your hands in his—gently, so gently—he says, "We're going to breathe life back into this place. I'll be here every day if you want me to be."

"You d—"

"I will. Or Maya or Jimin or Kook." He moves his head so you're forced to look at him even as you try to look away, confronted with the raw sincerity in his eyes. "We'll drown out the bad memories with new good ones."

His voice is CPR, pressing warmth into your chest, and just like that, the suffocating walls around you open up a bit. You can see it, the two of you sitting on the couch watching TV—or maybe you watching him play one of his games—your other friends occasionally dipping in and out as they please.

More orange lilies on the table.

You pull your hands from his and drift to the kitchen counter, picking up the glinting silver key sitting on its surface. Turning back to Taehyung, you press it into his palm, and he stares at you, eyes wide with wonder.

"You're sure?"

You nod, and he curls his fingers around the key like it's something delicate—handling it with the same care you once saw him give a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest in the park when you were thirteen.

"Every day," he promises, pinky wrapping around yours and squeezing. "Just say the word."

a/n: likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated! <3

taglist is open!

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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restinslices · 4 months

Note

Could you do the Earthrealm champions being invited by GN!reader to dance with them in a video?

If you need song ideas for this request, I got you covered:

Bet y’all ain’t know I like K-pop. Expect the unexpected. My internet is being dumb asf and I cannot add gifs so you’re getting dumb pictures I found on Pinterest

Johnny Cage

“I’m a star sweetheart, I don’t have time for silly videos”

*Proceeds to dance with passion*

Johnny cannot take shit seriously so if you think he’d be too proud to do a little dance for a video, you’re smoking

He probably wears something way over the top for the video as if he’s actually performing for a crowd

I don’t think Johnny is a natural dancer but he makes do. He probably practices to make sure he doesn’t look stupid and you’ll have to record the video multiple times until he’s satisfied

“I don’t like that one or that one or that one or-” “I’m gonna find a new partner. Oh my gosh”

Honestly I think he has more fun than you

“I think I should add ‘dancer’ to my lists of talents”

He probably asks to do it again

Idk if I see Johnny being into K-pop but the interest would start here and spiral

I also feel like he enjoys dances from girl groups more than boy groups. I once again don’t know why I think this way but it makes sense in my head

Likes more simple dances. It keeps the focus on his pretty face and outfits

“I think I’d be fantastic in a girl group” “Ok Johnny”

It’s giving “nurse! He’s out again!”

He has a new hyperfixation now. I hope you’re proud of yourself

Favorite thing to dance to is Cupid by Fifty Fifty

Kenshi Takahashi

Only does it because you asked him to, and even then he doesn’t really want to

He doesn’t hate dancing but he just doesn’t do it

Considering he escaped from the Yakuza, him being in a video with you isn’t the best idea. You can call him paranoid. He calls himself careful.

When he finally agrees, he's wearing the most obnoxious get up; hoodie, sweatpants, a hat, glasses, a mask and gloves. It's so no one can know who he is, but who in the Yakuza is randomly watching dance videos?

He won't change his mind though and wears it all.

You have to do an easy dance otherwise he'll sweat himself to death

I don't see him going out of his way to do it again. It was alright to him. He's not big on dancing so learning a dance then doing it wasn't the best way to spend his time. Also he was extremely sweaty so he's not tryna do it again

He will if you ask, but he won't bring it up first

He's trying to not be noticed but people can't help but notice him

I feel like he favors boy groups only slightly. Favorite thing to dance to is Still 24K by 24K but only the chorus because once again, sweat and heat. And YES I picked 24K because I'm never letting their name die. I miss them

Kung Lao

“I have better things to do, like training new recruits at the Academy” “If you're too scared of me dancing better than you, just say that”

He learns the dance that night

He's competitive so what's supposed to be a sweet couples thing, turns serious

Wants to do a hard dance just to prove how great he is even if it's stupid

Legit is angrily typing “hard kpop dances” and picking one at random

He has you ask the audience to comment who danced better or do a poll

If he wins, he's ecstatic and wants to continue showing off. If he loses, he's bitter. The vote was rigged. Real “Stop the count!” type shit

If he loses he wants to do it again so he can do better. He legit can't let it go. The problem is he keeps diving into hard ass dances and refuses to start simple

You have to pry his hands off the keyboard and help him pick something simple

Once he stops being stubborn then you two can actually have fun. Dancing can become a regular thing, but he's gonna keep making it a challenge

In his eyes, he always wins

Idk if he has a preference for boy or girl groups. I'll say his favorite thing to dance to is Monster by Exo because I feel like he'd want to do Chanyeol's jump

Raiden

I think he'd be shy at first. Super Shy if you will

He doesn't wanna fuck it up, yk? After being told it's not that deep and it's just for fun, he agrees

Besides Johnny, he's probably having the most fun. I feel like he enjoys spending time with the people he cares about and this is doing just that

Wants to do it again because it's spending time with you and it makes you happy

Before I even end this, he's a girl group stan and I'm standing on it

Idk why but I think he'd like 4Minute and I'm not changing my mind. He'd be bummed they're not together anymore

Honestly, his favorite groups have probably all disbanded or are on hiatus. He's not having a good time

“I like 4Minute” “disbanded” “2NE1?” “disbanded” “Miss A?” “disbanded” “CLC?” “I don't think they're disbanded but they're doing their own thing” “I hate my life”

I just feel like he'd have bad luck

Dancing becomes a new hobby though. He can't always be getting rid of threats.

Mainly does it with you

His favorite thing to dance to is Whatcha Doin’ Today by 4Minute. Honestly I can see that being his favorite song which is a real shame cause I think his favorite would be Jihyun and she got like, one line (I'm projecting)

Liu Kang

Big problem with your plan. He has glowing eyes and shades hardly dull them. How's he gonna hide that?

With TWO pairs of shades of course

I think he'd be reluctant to make the video because his existence isn't supposed to be known by random people

He'd be willing to dance with you alone, he's just not sure about the video and he won't be sure until you come up with a good idea that'll get rid of that problem

You can post it on your close friends though. They make sense

I feel like he'd like dancing to some random ass unknown group from the 80s or 90s. Who even are these people?

He did watch as civilization grew so he's seen tons of groups form and disband so I guess it's not surprising he knows smaller groups.

Idk if he'd have a preference for boy groups or girl groups. If it's good music, it's good music

I don't think it'd become a new hobby for him. He's not reluctant about it like Kenshi, it just doesn't interest him as much as you'd like

He makes it known he's doing this for you. Not in an asshole way, but in a “I really like when you're happy” type of way

I'm NOT looking up old ass groups just for this so imma say his favorite thing to dance to is Kard in general. Why? Idk. I’m spreading an agenda

I wanna write more MK1 intros but I’m brain empty. I’m miserable This was also short. My bad anon. Everyone has around 230 words

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pianokantzart · 1 year

Text

Yes please. The first scene of The Mario Brothers sets the tone for their relationship so well, and I’m so glad it carries through the entire film. Most of the screenshots taken from this posted clip: X

I ADORE THAT THE FIRST SHOT OF THEM IN THE MOVIE IS THEM SIDE HUGGING EACH OTHER. They’re just standing there in front of the television, watching their commercial, two goobers barely able to contain the excitement of what they’ve accomplished together.

The commercial ends, and immediately they start showering each other with complements while teasing each other. “Wow! You were great!” Mario shouts while slapping Luigi’s cap over his eyes. “I was great? Are you kidding me!? You were great!” Luigi shouts back as he playfully jabs at his brother’s stomach.

While they’re both proud of the commercial, Mario expresses some minor worries. He says “I’m so glad we spent our life savings on this commercial” as though he was having doubts before, and wonders if the goofy Italian accent was too over the top. But Luigi is fully optimistic, describing their ad as not just some commercial, but true “cinema.” He is about to reassure Mario about the accents too, when the Giuseppe... who naturally has that same goofy over-the-top accent... chimes in to voice his support.

“Well well well...” Then a new voice joins the conversation, and the moment Mario and Luigi hear it the mood changes. Both brothers tense up and turn to look.

In an instant, their instinctual reaction is “Ah fuck, not this guy.” “...If it isn’t Brooklyn’s favorite failures, The Stupid Mario Brothers.”

“Oh great, Spike’s here.” Luigi’s comment is one of passive annoyance. He stays behind his brother, his body language anxious and anticipatory, his expression looking more and more worried the closer he gets to Spike.

“Hey, Spike.” Mario, on the other hand, is assertive. He immediately walks over and stands confrontationally in front of his old boss, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Yeah. IT’S-A ME!” Spike retorts with an imitation of Mario’s put-on Italian accent and aggressively laughs in his face. He isn’t “annoying but well-meaning” the way Mario’s uncles are, he’s deliberately trying to get under his skin. Mario squints when Spike laughs a little too close for comfort, but otherwise holds his ground and maintains his composure.

Spike wipes a tear from his eye and switches gears from obnoxious mockery to cold belittling. “Tell me, have you even gotten one call since you left me to start your dumb company?”

So right off the bat we learn two things: 1. The Mario Brothers quit Spike’s business, and he’s bitter enough about it that he’s tracked their future endeavors and goes out of his way to make fun of them for it. Clearly there’s an issue of pride here– two little nothings quitting his business to try and make it on their own? Who do they think they are? 2. Mario, in return, is bitter enough about whatever happened while they worked for Spike that he takes the bait and gives Spike the time of day. Luigi looks like he would prefer to dip out of the situation altogether, but he does his best to support Mario when he thinks he’s got a leg up…

While Mario is still taking a breath to form his reply, Luigi summons the courage to step out from behind his brother, looking smug as he waves his cellphone around. “Actually, Spike, we have!”

Mario is excited for a moment until it’s revealed the phone call is from their mom. Luigi is proud enough of her support that he sincerely considers it a bragging point, happily clinging to his sibling all the while Mario is internally begging his brother to stfu.

Then, Luigi mic-drops the phone. It audibly shatters. Instant regret. Mario looks like he’s going to implode from embarrassment.

Spike, naturally, finds this hilarious. Giggling, he grabs a napkin, wipes the pizza grease off of his beard, and lobs the crumpled napkin at Luigi. “Good luck running a business with this idiot.”

With lightning-fast reflexes, Mario reaches out and catches the napkin before it hits its target. The music takes a dramatic shift as the mood of the conversation gets more serious.

“Say that again about my brother, and you’re gonna regret it.” At that point, it might have been smarter for Mario to just throw the napkin in the nearest bin and walk away, but Spike just made the mistake of going at Luigi. Nobody is allowed to treat him like that, not while Mario’s around.

Mario retaliates by throwing the napkin back in Spike’s face, hitting him square in the forehead. Spike does not take this lightly. Where Mario has a sense of basic dignity, Spike has an overinflated ego, and he won’t take even the smallest offense lying down. He rises to his feet, fists clenched, chest puffed, ready for a fight. “Oh yeah?”

Mario also looks ready to throw down, but rather than raise his fists his first priority is to press Luigi out of harm’s way. Luigi, in the meantime, looks terrified, stepping back and bracing himself, his already anxious body language tensing further. Both Mario and Luigi are startled when Spike actually follows through with getting physical, snatching Mario by the overall straps and lifting him up off the ground.

“Get this through your tiny brain Mario: You’re a joke! and you always will be.” Mario doesn’t fight or argue, he just squints as Spike talks uncomfortably close to his face like he’s trying to goad him into throwing the first punch. Mario does not take the bait, and does not give Spike the satisfaction of any reaction at all. When it comes to petty insults like this, he can take them like a champ.

Luigi is shocked into a standstill. His gaze rapidly flicks back and forth between Spike and Mario. He has no idea what to do, he’s just worried about his brother in every sense of the word, taken aback by both the vitriolic comment and threat of an actual fight.

Spike, after getting the final word in, throws Mario to the ground. Luigi drops to his knees and holds out his hands to help his older brother up, but Mario recovers himself before Luigi can assist.

Luigi looks far more hurt by Spike’s insult than Mario, and seems to be calculating what their options are if things escalate any further. Mario holds what little ground he has, staring defiantly up with his hands clenched, as if he’s daring Spike to try something.

Luckily, things simmer down. Spike proudly dusts off his hands and heads toward the door, taking a moment to leave money on the table. He’s an asshat and a blowhard, but he still plays by society’s rules. He doesn’t dine and dash, and he’s not going to carry a confrontation further than he feels he needs to, especially not in a public restaurant. Spike has the potential to win this fight, but at the end of the day he has a business to run.

Despite having been dropped flat on his back, Mario is the first to get up. He straightens his cap and dusts himself off, staring daggers at his old employer’s back while Luigi rises to his feet and begins questioning his brother’s decision. “Are you insane!? He’s three times your size!”

Spike’s insult was cruel, but it clearly didn’t effect Mario too much. It’s more of the same ole same ole from him, and can’t be taken too seriously. Luigi is more concerned about the physical risks involved.

“Luigi, c’mon! I mean, you can’t be scared all the time.” To me, this comment doesn’t feel like Mario criticizing Luigi as much as it feels like Mario defending his own approach to life. Both him and Luigi are young (probably early 20s), little guys working in manual labor. They’re at the bottom of the totem pole, but Mario maintains his sense of pride. He’s eager to fight back against adversity and prove himself to the world, even if it means taking serious risks.

“Mmmm, you’d be surprised.” Luigi, in the meantime, has complete opposite approach when facing life’s challenges. He is not as good at rolling with the punches as Mario, and being very anxious and sensitive by nature, his way of getting along is by avoiding confrontation altogether.

CONCLUSION: Mario’s strong drive pulls Luigi into situations that go against his instincts, but that’s for the better. If Mario hadn’t been there, Luigi definitely wouldn’t have attempted to talk back to Spike like that. Is he skilled at backtalk? Not in the least, but it’s the spirit of attempting to stand up for himself that counts. Mario gives Luigi room to be vaguely adventurous and assertive by providing protection, clearing the path, and making things easier for him whenever he can. As a result, Luigi would follow Mario anywhere– and does, supporting him in all of his endeavors with full confidence. There is a reason why Charlie Day described Luigi as “die-hard loyal,” and for someone like Mario, who has gumption, big dreams, and a lot going against him, having someone at his side who sincerely supports and believes in him with all his heart is indispensable.

The beginning shows us a good example right off the bat of Luigi’s confidence regarding Mario’s dreams, and anxiety regarding outside threats. Meanwhile, we see glimpses of Mario’s anxiety regarding his own dreams, and confidence when facing outside threats. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: they really do balance each other out.

#not art #Mario Movie #Mario Movie Spoilers #mario commentary #Mario analysis #Mario #Luigi #Super Mario Brothers #Super mario bros movie #Super Mario Brothers Movie #The best parts of the movie were when these two were on screen together ISTG #the rest of the film is fun and fine and all that but Mario and Luigis interactions melt my heart into jelly #Them being Them and not being apart is all I want out of the sequel #long post

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nahoney22 · 1 year

Text

That Floral Dress***

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 3000

After a sour date, Echo has one thing on his mind: is he a bad kisser? Luckily, you were willing to tell him the truth.

Warnings: no smut but it is rather saucy so gonna rate it at 16+. Slight insecure echo, unknown mutual pining, reader is female and is wearing a floral dress. Intense make out.

Masterlist

“Do I look like I would be a bad kisser?”

The question catches you off guard completely, making you spin around in your seat in the cockpit of the Marauder to face Echo who had been pacing back and forth for the better half of ten minutes. You’re surprised he hasn’t worn the floor down.

You're not sure how to respond to such an unexpected question, so you ask him to repeat it. "Do I look like I would be a bad kisser?" he asks again, biting his lip anxiously.

Even hearing it the second time round confused you just as much and then it occurred to you that a few nights ago he had come back from a date that Wrecker had sprung upon him. He didn’t look too pleased to go in the first place and his mood only worsened upon his return.

“I… don’t know?” You reply nervously.

Echo had been your friend for years now, even since before his accident at the Citadel so for him to ask you this type of question was a little odd as you two were merely friends. You didn’t want to upset him and say no, which wasn’t the case either, but you didn’t want to say yes in case presumptions start.

Echo lets out a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose with his flesh hand before leaning against the wheel of the Marauder. You can tell that he's feeling frustrated, and you feel a twinge of guilt for not being more helpful. So, dropping what you were doing, you decide to ask him what's really going on.

“How come you're asking me this, Echo?" you inquire softly, hoping to get to the root of the problem.

Echo fidgets nervously, his sharp jaw clenching with anxiety. "Remember that date I went on the other day?" he grumbles, clearly still bitter about the experience. To which you nod for him to continue, leaning back on your seat as he begins to explain his predicament.

“Well, not only were they quite dull as a person, and I’m not saying I’m a barrel of laughs either, but they were insanely dull so the date was not off to a great start.” He emphasizes on the word dull, making you giggle softly which always made him smile but before he gets distracted, he continues,

“Anyway, I walked them back to their place and just being the courteous guy I am, I leaned in to give them a kiss goodnight. Only for them to recoil back as if I smelt terrible.”

"They even said 'ew no thanks,'" he recalls bitterly, his face contorting.

Your eyes widen in shock, mouth agape. “How rude of them!” You exclaim with a shake of your head, feeling indignation on his behalf. “You were only being nice?” You stated, hoping to bring some ease to Echo but his furrowed brows and almost sad expression said otherwise.

“I only was going to go in for the cheek.” He grumbles. “Well, I just wanted to ask you if you think I looked like I’d be a bad person to kiss.” He folds his arms over his chest, staring down at the floor as your heart lunges out to him.

“In that case,” you stand and take a step towards him, resting a comforting hand to his forearm, “no, I don’t think you would look like a bad kisser.”

His eyes search yours, a mix of emotions residing in them. “You don’t have to say that because you feel bad for me.”

You scoff and shake your head at him. “Echo, you know me well enough to know that I’ll always be honest with you. So no, I don’t think you look like a bad person to kiss.”

The words gave him brief comfort and a smile is fighting its way on his lips. “Thanks. Though, I don’t think I’d be that great at it anyway.” He shrugs and this only piques your curiosity more.

“Howcome?”

Again, he fidgets a little before letting out a small sigh at his confession. “I’ve never kissed anyone. A proper kiss that is.”

Echo's confession about his lack of experience in kissing catches you off guard. You had assumed that he had dated or been in some kind of romantic relationship before, given his charming personality and good looks. But as he stands before you, vulnerable and honest, you can't help but feel a sense of compassion towards him.

Echo shifts his weight from one foot to another, as if unsure of how you would react to his confession. You can see the slight furrow in his brow and the way his lips purse as he contemplates the words to say next. His vulnerability tugs at your heartstrings, and you take a deep breath before speaking.

"Wow, I didn't know that. But it's okay, Echo. You don't have to be a great kisser right off the bat. It takes practice, and I'm sure with the right person, you'll be amazing."

As Echo's gaze meets yours, you sense a palpable tension between the two of you. It's as if you share an unspoken understanding that transcends the bounds of your platonic friendship, one that leaves you questioning whether there might be something more between you. But before you can dwell on these thoughts for too long, you hear yourself utter the words, "I'd be happy to teach you."

Your words take Echo aback, and he seems surprised by your willingness to help him with something so intimate. “You would?”

Your own eyes begin to widen, the reality of your words hitting home. But you're not about to back down now. "S-sure," you squeak, quickly clearing your throat to hide the nerves that were now bubbling, "I mean, we're friends, right? I'm sure you'd do the same for me."

As Echo ponders your offer, he realises that you're right. You've always been there for him, and the thought of not returning the favor is unthinkable. Supposedly it makes things better too that he finds you were impossibly beautiful and wearing that pretty floral dress he really liked. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a shaky exhale, Echo stands up straight and takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what's to come. He's grateful that he managed to brush his teeth earlier that morning, before any of the others hogged up the refresher. "How do you want to do this?" he asks, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

Your mind races, considering your options. You hadn't expected Echo to be so agreeable to the idea, and now you find yourself at a loss for words. "Um, well," you stammer, "do you want to just go ahead and reenact how your date went? And kiss me on the cheek?"

Echo's expression darkens at the suggestion. He doesn't want to relive that somewhat painful memory, but if it means learning from his mistakes, he's willing to give it a shot. "Sure," he concedes with a slight frown, "why not?"

You approach Echo with a hesitant step, feeling a flutter in your chest as you meet his gaze. His eyes hold a certain shyness, and you can sense the weight of his request hanging in the air between you. You take a deep breath and muster up the courage to speak with a slight mischievous grin dancing at the corners of your lips. Your voice tinged with a playful sweetness. "Well, Echo, I do appreciate you walking me back to my place," you tease, relishing the opportunity to poke fun at your friend's chivalry.

Echo looks momentarily confused, but he quickly catches on and chuckles at your literal interpretation of the situation. "I don't think they ever said it like that," he remarks, his amusement evident.

You roll your eyes, but your smile remains, and you lower your voice, adopting a more serious tone. "Say, Echo," you say, your eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter, "I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you for walking me back to my place."

Echo shakes his head, an adoring look in his eyes. You always knew how to effortlessly charm him with your humor. But, he knows there's something he needs to address. "Of course," he says softly but resolutely.

As Echo gathers his courage, you patiently wait, your hands tucked behind your back. You can tell he's nervous about kissing you, even on the cheek.

You watch as he tentatively reaches out to touch you, trying to remember how he kissed his date. But this time, he finds himself oddly wanting to impress you.

When he reaches out, his fingers trace over the fabric of your dress on your waist. A surge of warmth shoots through you, and you take a small step closer to him as if he was inviting you closer. His breath is heavy, and your heart races as you spot him staring at your lips… instead of your cheek.

"Echo," you say softly, hoping to bring him back to reality.

"Sorry, I, uh—" Echo stammers, his mind racing with uncertainty. For a moment, you worry that he might back away, but you take a deep breath and speak up.

"Just kiss me," you say, voice barely above a whisper as you lean in until your nose brushes against his.

Echo swallows nervously, stealing a quick glance at your lips once more before meeting your gaze. "Where?" his voice was almost silent. It was as if the obvious place you suggested to him had vanished and you find yourself not minding it at all.

You hold your nerve and ever so slightly, not quite sure what possessed or was possessing you, lean closer until your lips ghost over him and watch him with a steady gaze. “Wherever feels right for you.”

He couldn't resist any longer, the temptation too great as he leaned in to capture your lips in a quick embrace. The kiss was sweet, yet intense, sending shivers down your spine and causing your mind to go hazy with an unknown desire. The feel of his lips on yours was electric, igniting a spark deep within you that you never knew existed for him. His eyes were tightly knitted shut, afraid that you may turn around and sock him one but he was pretty certain you were kissing him back.

As he pulled back, breathless and eager for your response, you found yourself lost in the moment, unable to speak. Your face felt hot as you looked down at your shoes, struggling to find the right words to say. Everything about this moment felt different, as if something had shifted irrevocably between you both.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Echo finally spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "How was that?" he asked, his eyes still closed, as if he was afraid to see your reaction. He may have thought about kissing you once or twice, naturally. He just never knew it would happen quite like this.

Your face felt like it was on fire and you found yourself looking down at your shoes. “It was nice… your date was missing out.” You reply, almost stiff.

There was a certain type of emotion that hung on your words that you didn’t quite know yourself.

Echo licked his lips inconspicuously, savoring the taste of your fruity lip balm that lingered on his tongue. "At least I know I'm not a bad kisser," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

You laughed softly, the sound ringing like music in the quiet cockpit. "Definitely not," you replied, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

As you looked up at him, you could feel his gaze burning into you, as if he was seeing you for the first time. You were everything perfect in the galaxy, and his grip on your waist tightened just a little bit more, as if he never wanted to let you go.

In a moment of boldness, Echo's scomp came up to cradle your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Your eyes locked, and you were lost in each other, the galaxy around you fading away until it was just the two of you. There were no words, no movement, just the intensity of your gazes. “How do I show that I want to do more then?”

As the heat between you and Echo intensifies, he challenges you with another kiss, pushing the boundaries to see how far he can take you. Your smile gives away your desire, and you whisper a command, "Maybe, bring them closer."

Echo doesn't hesitate, his arm wraps around your lower back, drawing you close in a swift motion. Chest to chest, his breath washes over your face, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "And then?" he prods, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes close as you succumb to the moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of Echo's low tone. "I-I suppose you just kiss them again, but a little longer."

So he does. Feverish and intense with a passion that ignites your senses. Your heart beats wildly, consumed by the sensation of his lips moving in perfect harmony with yours. Echo gently trails his hand up your body to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss, and you gasp, lost in the intoxicating sensation. When he pulls away to gauge your reaction, he almost chuckles when he spots you leaning into him, chasing his lips. To your glee, he kisses you swiftly and you let out the faintest of moans in his mouth.

Echo's lips against yours are soft, and you can feel the warmth of his breath as he murmurs a phrase that sends a shiver down your spine. "Oh cyare," he purrs, and you're suddenly jolted back to reality. Your heart races, and you feel a wave of anxiety wash over you.

You pull away, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head. "We shouldn't be doing this," you tell him.

Echo looks shaken, his expression concerned as he fears he may have overstepped the mark. "Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?" he asks.

You shake your head, feeling a twinge of guilt as you pull away from Echo's embrace. "I'm sorry, Echo. We shouldn't be doing this. I'm supposed to be teaching you how to kiss for other dates," you explain.

Echo tilts his head, sensing your unease. But the thought of you possibly being jealous makes his heart skip a beat, and he realises this may be the right moment to lay everything on the line. "What if there are no other dates?" he asks softly.

You blink in surprise, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he approaches you again, his flesh hand cupping your cheek, thumb tracing over your delicate skin, "what if I just want to kiss you?” He lowers his voice, afraid to break the tension. “What if I want to date you?"

Shock is written all over your face, and you can't help melting into his touch once more. "But I thought we were just friends," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Echo chews on the inside of his cheek before admitting, "I don't think 'just friends' want to kiss each other, do they?" He uttered, voice almost vibrating against you.

Your heart flutters in your chest, and a heat pools in your lower stomach. "No," you shudder, feeling the intensity of his gaze. "I suppose they don't."

He smiles coyly, and his lips gently trace along your jawline, edging towards your ear. "Then let me kiss you. Let me give you anything you want."

As his lips touch your ear, you feel a surge of electricity coursing through your body, and your mind is filled with conflicting emotions. But most of them were primarily focused on how he pushes you against the control panel.

You whimper under his touch, both of your hands coming up to clasp his cheeks as you guide his lips back onto yours. Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, and your teeth clash, but neither of you seems to care.

In a moment of need, his lips assault yours as he presses you down so your back hits at the buttons and switches, sandwiched between your legs.

"Echo," you groan his name into his mouth before he playfully bites at your lower lip. Your legs press against his outer thighs and around his waist and you crumble into a mewling mess once you feel his hand slide up under your dress, caressing at your thigh.

He stands up straight for a moment, admiring how you’re displayed beautifully on the control panel just for him. His eyes roamed your body, growing warm at how your dress hugged your body wonderfully and how your chest heaved beneath it, highlighting your breasts.

“Did I ever tell you that I love this dress on you?”

You blush deeply as he massages your skin, feeling the heat building between your legs. "No," you rasp, eyelids heavy with lust.

“Shame,” he chuckles, moving his lips down to your neck now, starting to suck and bite that sweet spot that your body perfectly reacts to - arching up into him. “Although, I wouldn’t mind seeing it on the floor one day.”

You chew on your lower lip, whimpering and moaning in pleasure as he leaves marks all over your neck and collarbones. Surprisingly, you find yourself not even caring if the others saw it. The pleasure you are getting is far too great to tell Echo to stop.

When he pulls back, panting and trying so hard to ignore the tent in his pants, he gazes down at you, his eyes dance with adoration. “You’re so beautiful, cyare.”

You're panting a little, causing his eyes to flicker between your chest and your eyes with a smile. “As are you. And a very, very good kisser.”

You don’t know what was going to happen from then on but for now, you just savored the feeling of Echo leaning down to kiss you, tongue begging for entrance at your lips.

Masterlist

More Echo Works

#bad batch echo #tbb echo #the bad batch echo x reader #bad batch echo x reader #bad batch echo x you #tbb echo x reader #nahoney22 writes #the bad batch

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bonfireheart · 2 years

Text

title: Trust Takes…A Near-Death Experience?

blurb: the one in which the newest combat avenger that has limited healing abilities proves themselves. (fem!reader)

warnings: Clint should look around before leaving cover, Reader just wants acceptance (at the cost of hurting themselves), injury, medbay vibe?, passing out, the team are kinda mean to start with, swearing

“Now, everybody follow instructions. Nobody go off and do their own thing, this is a quick in and out mission.”

The voice of the Captain boomed through the tech-clad jet, and the brightness from the overhead lights found love in my eyes, causing me to squint in attempt to see my surroundings.

“Stark, Nat and I will clear the pathway to the entrance. Wanda, Sam and Buck, cover and protect the perimeter. Clint and Y/N enter the building quietly, get the flash drive and leave. Don’t make contact with anyone inside.”

A chorus of “got its” and a cheeky “Sir yes sir” from Sam replaced the single voice. Clint made his way over to me, blindly handing me a small handgun.

“Just in case. You should stay behind me, stay in the shadows unless I tell you otherwise. This should be easy.”

His voice was sharp and I could tell he was annoyed I was partnered up with him. I felt the whole group’s eyes set on me and shuffled back in my seat awkwardly.

Stark stood up, lowering his helmet over his head. “Yeah and uh, when you see HYDRA agents try to stay loyal to us. I know they used to be a such a dear part of your life.”

Hostility was woven in his words, and snickers surrounded me. If the ground felt like eating me whole now would be the perfect time. Or eating them. That would be better, and it would be nice to see them grovelling for my help.

Ever since Fury took me in as a HYDRA escapee, the team have been less than pleased by my mere existence. I’m not stupid, I’ve heard them talking. Things about how they couldn’t trust me, that I was a double agent. It hurt sure, but I couldn’t blame them. Who would genuinely believe that an ex-convict would want to play hero to the world? That doesn’t make their words sting any less though. Wanda wasn’t always the good girl, and neither was Nat. Bucky was one of me for gods sake. The constant bitter phrases and venomous speeches filled my life. If I got hurt on a mission, I am convinced they’d just leave me.

“Great, they’ve already zoned out.” Bucky’s voice pulled me back into reality.

Truth is, this mission was kind of scaring me. They keep calling it a simple deal, but there’s too much history there for me. What if one of the agents walking around recognise me? Would they kill me? Or would they drag me back into that lifestyle? I don’t want any part of that, and I sure as hell am working everyday to repay the world for what I did against it.

“We’re here. Get ready.”

Wanda arose from the seat beside me, giving me one glance over before stationing herself behind the doors. Same with Natasha. And Cap, Tony, Bucky, Sam and Clint.

I sighed and stood, slowly pacing my way over to them. I shut my eyes and inhaled lightly, exhaled lightly. Just like Ma taught me.

The shudder of the doors opening reminded me to extra care of myself on this mission, stay in cover and do as I’m told. I’ve resigned myself to doing that every mission though. A part of me hopes that if I just let them control everything and make the rules, well then, maybe they’d start to warm up to the idea of me.

I felt Clint grab on to my arm as he tugged me towards some boulders sat just by the entrance. I allowed myself to be pulled along and crouched low to avoid being detected. We sat in silence together, I kept my eyes trained on the scene playing out before me. I watched as the others killed people quickly and quietly, and as Nat made her way to the door of the building and opened it, ready to kill any onlookers they may have missed. I felt Clint’s eyes place on to me a few times, either from concern or disgust, I’m not too sure, and I’d rather not know.

It was time. I stood from our cover and let Clint lead the way to the door. Nat offered him a small smile as he went inside, and instantly dropped it when she saw me.

Ouch.

‘Don’t let it get to you.’ I could hear my mother’s voice in my head. It chanted like it was some mantra until I found myself following what it was saying.

The inside of the building wasn’t that much different to the outside. It was bleak, grey and was a hub of sadness if anything. Clint was four steps ahead of me, and didn’t so much as turn around to see if I was even there. Part of me thinks he wouldn’t even question my disappearance, that he just expected me to turn double agent real quick and not look back.

We found the room quickly. It wasn’t hard to locate, nor was it well secured. Typical of HYDRA. They focused their resources in the wrong places. The metal door was heavy and rusted, turning into more of a bronze colouring. It was unlocked and made a loud ‘clank’ as we opened it.

I internally cringed as the sound rang through the empty hallways. The noise was starkly contrasted when a deafening silence fell upon us. Then the footsteps came running. One pair, two pairs, several pairs of people could be heard nearing us. And as if to mock us even further, a blaring alarm played out suddenly. If this wasn’t a serious situation, it possibly would of been funny.

The archer grabbed me by the wrist and quickly tugged us into the dark room, and we found solace behind a cabinet. It wasn’t long before the door to the enclosed space opened again, and from the corner of my eyes I could see the shine of flashlights reflecting against the silver panels of the area.

“раскрыть себя (reveal yourselves).”

I shuddered at the sound of Russian. It reminded me all too well of my past, a past I’m far from proud of. The footsteps paced around the room some more, before the flashlights turned off.

“все чисто (all clear).”

Slowly, the resonating footsteps got further and further away. I knew better than that though. There is at least two men still in this room, I know HYDRA like the back of my hand. ‘Sad that they haven’t changed their ways after all these years’, and god I need to stop thinking serious situations are funny.

Before I could garner my attention back to Clint, his grasp on me lessened and though I tried stop him, he moved into plain sight.

Silence.

I held my breath and prepared for what came next, it was inevitable.

I heard Clint sigh, “Shit.”

“Ah Mr Barton, рад встрече (nice to meet you).”

A gruff Russian accent coated the man’s words, the tension in the air was thick and surrounded the room. I watched as Hawkeye slowly reached back for an arrow, setting it into his bow. I felt helpless, I couldn’t blow my cover just yet, and Clint is way too egotistical to ask for help. But still, I know this is not going to end well for him, no matter how skilled he is, he is way too outnumbered. He just doesn’t know it yet.

Ping.

The sound of a sleek, metal point hitting its bullseye in the shape of a man’s head. And lord, Clint has just brought war upon himself.

Before he could reload, or I could pull out my weapon, I heard as the door slammed open and more agents rushed in. Curse the archer for thinking he always knows best.

Gunshots resonated throughout the building, and one could only pray the others could hear it. A hand reached up to my ear piece quickly, and I pressed on it.

“Guys! Backup plea-Clint!”

I watched in horror as he dropped to the floor with a vast array of gunshot wounds taken nest on his shoulders, stomach, torso and just below his heart.

Grabbing my gun from my holster, I left cover and finished off the final three men in the room. I looked around the floor, and fair dues to Barton, he had managed to take out a fair few of them. A groan articulated from beside me and I dropped to my knees in concern. I knew I didn’t have long before more HYDRA officials found their way here and could just hope that the rest of the team would come bursting through the door.

“Clint! Clint, look at me ok? You need to stay still, I’m going to heal you, don’t move.”

My words were shaky and unstable, I don’t know if he could even understand me. But even if I was speaking properly, this man is at deaths door and words wouldn’t be comprehensible anyway. My hands rested comfortably above Clint, a small gap allowing for the particles to flow out of my hands and over his body. I worked silently, even when the door slammed open. One, two, three, four…there was at least fifteen gunshots covering him. I don’t know how far my healing ability can cope with this. I had only ever used it on myself, it was simple trick that was injected into me by HYDRA to ensure they could keep sending me out on mission after mission.

I didn’t dare move even when I heard shouts of Russian around me, or shots being fired into me, all that mattered was making sure his family had their husband and dad in one piece. I watched as his wounds slowly covered over, and as the bleeding came to a stop. My hands didn’t leave him until I knew for sure that every little mark on him was healed.

Pain pricked into me, it was didn’t hurt that much yet it made me scream. I looked up in horror and was met by the rest of the team. It felt like everything was in slow motion now. My head felt woozy and light.

‘Huh, so at least I know I can heal a pretty much dead man’. Not now brain…not now.

My eyes fluttered open and shut like a butterfly, the voices of the team were drained and quiet and my vision was blurry.

The sound of me dropping to the floor.

•/\•

Beep.

“She’s waking up, get Bruce.” “She’s awake?” “Shut up, you’re being too loud.” “You shut up!”

Open door.

“Bucky, Sam. She does not need to hear loud noises right now of all times.”

“…sorry Bruce.”

Footsteps, shut door.

My senses slowly came back to me. I can hear my heart monitor. I can feel a blanket clad around my body. I can smell disinfectant, a aroma of cleanliness. I can taste the metallic tang of blood. I let my eyes open and instantly winced at the light compared to darkness of shut eyes.

“Oh! Sorry about that.” Bruce walked over to my bed and pushed the bright lamp that shone over me to face the wall.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like the devil tried finishing the job.”

He laughed in a geeky sort of way. I don’t mind Bruce. I’ve never met met somebody who contrasted their hero alias as much as him, but I guess that’s what made him more likeable. I saw him slightly tamper with the many wires attached to my hand. He must of felt my eyes on him,

“I’m just upping the morphine.”

“No need.” I allowed my hands to perch on top of my chest and focused my energy towards myself. Gradually, it felt like the ton of bricks was being lifted from my shoulders.

“That works too, I guess. Super cool by the way, the healing thing, wish I had that.”

The door crashed open again, this time the team came stumbling into the room.

“I said one at a time!” Natasha spoke up.

“Yeah, you just always got to be right dont you?”

“Stark, I will widow bite you.”

Wanda made her way over to me with a steaming bowl. It smelt amazing, and my stomach was absolutely begging for food. Not to mention the need to recharge my energy.

“It’s gulyas. My mama’s recipe. I’ve seen you eat it before so I just thought…”

“Thank you Wanda. It smells like home.” I leant forward to take the bowl from her.

“Should you be feeding yourself?” She asked as she moved the bowl away from me quickly.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I can heal myself. I feel good as new. Just a little rough round the edges is all.” I joked light-heartedly.

The Sokovian looked doubtful as she passed it over to me, setting it gently on my side table and produced a spoon. By now, Bruce had managed to calm the others down, reminding them they were in a medical facility.

Clint awkwardly cleared his throat and captured the attention of everyone.

“I uh…just wanted to thank you for healing me. I thought that mission might of been my last so just..yeah..thanks.”

I smiled at him.

“Hey, it’s part of the job right? Protecting people. Nobody said it had to be just civilians.”

Steve lightly nudged Tony.

“My turn already?”

The others looked at him with annoyed glances.

“Ugh fine. Listen Nightingale, we just wanted to…apologise for how we treated you. You clearly have the teams best…interests at heart.”

Groans encompassed the space.

“Really Tony?” “You could of been slightly heartfelt!”

“What Tony is trying to say Y/N, is that we were unfair. Especially considering the fact that three of us were the same as you…technically four but Tony made weapons of destruction so I’d argue that’s worse.” Natasha cut in, looking towards me hopefully.

“Forgive us? Start afresh?”

I looked down in my lap. It felt weird hearing them say sorry. Or even having their attention full stop.

“I’m not going to lie and say I can just move on from this…it kinda hurt the way I was treated. It felt like when I was trying to finally put stuff right, I was just being shunned even more…”

“That was our fault. Completely.”

“But, I am willing to try. You guys seem cool when you’re nice.” I laughed quietly.

“Seem? Seem? I AM cool.”

“Tony, for fucks sake.”

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nadvs · 2 days

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okay i’m on my period and ive been listening to fourth of july by sufjan stevens on REPEATTT😭 it’s inspired a fic idea that i think u would absolutely nail !!!!

sad ofc but rafe’s ex (moved out of the obx) gets news that he’s passed away. it’s centred around her going home, going thru the motions of how jarring it is that someone as big and powerful and stoic as rafe is just….gone. not there anymore. the lyrics of the song are great inspo ofc, but yeah just a huge ball of heartache and emotional despair!

if u wanted to lighten things up a pt2 could be like rafe faked his death vibes, angst and reunion and love and ahhhh!

၊၊||၊၊||၊၊ fourth of july / sufjan stevens

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

content warning death, drug abuse

When you saw the post on social media, you thought it was a sick joke.

But then you read the comments, full of canned condolences and useless prayers, and your refusal to accept the news crumbled with every typed word until you couldn’t possibly deny it any longer.

Someone commented asking how. Someone else replied overdose.

Sorrow and loss and shock and nausea swirled through you. You paced around your bedroom, chest heaving, glancing at the door as if someone was coming to pull you out of the nightmare.

Eventually, you found the strength to text Sarah. You still had her number even though you broke things off with Rafe three months ago.

She gave you the details for the funeral that Saturday.

It’s a hot, sunny afternoon when you make it to Kildare Island. It’s wrong that the world is still spinning, boasting beautiful weather on a gruesome day.

You think bitterly about how people are surely enjoying the sun today, all while the man you still love is being buried.

When Sarah sees you at the church, she gives you a mournful, forced smile. You hug her, your eyes swollen and red and aching, your throat burning as you tell her I’m sorry and are you okay?

You’re not sure if Rafe told her about why you broke up.

— and i’m sorry i left, but it was for the best though it never felt right

He hated that you wanted to move to another state for a job opportunity. He didn’t understand why you didn’t want to stay, why he couldn’t just take care of you.

You told him this was for the best and he’d find a girl who’d make him happy. He told you that was bullshit.

You doubt Sarah knows. He never spoke much to his sister unless he was fighting with her, so she likely has no idea why you ended an otherwise happy relationship.

There’s a large photo of him sitting on an easel at the front. You’re surprised they found a picture of him smiling.

It’s grainy and clearly zoomed in, likely from a group photo. He always had a great smile. He hardly showed it.

The lights hit the photographed blue of his eyes dully. Nothing like how he looked when he was alive. Even beneath the anger and bitterness Rafe carried around, he had a brightness in his eyes reserved solely for you.

You watched it fade the day you left him.

— make the most of your life, while it is rife, while it is light

When you see the coffin resting above the plot in the cemetery, you think you might be sick.

You knew Rafe liked coke. You feel naive now that you didn’t realize it was a problem. He just did it at parties when you were dating. At least, you thought he did.

Maybe you could have prevented this.

You remember the way his arm was wrapped around your waist at one of the last beach house parties you attended together. It was when you were still considering the job offer, knowing deep down you were going to take it.

He smelled like cologne and sweat and Rafe, his cheek against yours as he spoke over the loud music.

“You can’t move,” he said, chuckling and high out of his mind. “Look how much fun we’re having, baby.”

“I’d have more fun if we left,” you told him. He scoffed. But then he led you out of the party, down to the beach, hugging you from behind, kissing your neck as you sat in the sand.

“How’s this?” Rafe murmured. He earned laughs from you, his lips on your neck. “Fun?”

“Yeah,” you replied sincerely.

But you still left.

You can hardly listen to the sermon, but one part reverberates through you like it’s being screamed into your ears. We don’t face this life or death without promises.

There was a time when you and Rafe lived in a promise together. But now you just live, and he doesn’t.

Sarah finds you as you’re opening your car door to leave. She tells you it would feel wrong not to show you. They went through his phone. There are messages he sent to you that remain undelivered.

You blocked him after the break-up. You thought it was the right thing to do, but deep down, it felt more wrong than anything.

Your hand trembles as you hold the phone up to your face. It’s jarring, touching something that big, strong, abrasive, loud Rafe owned and used every day, and now he’s buried yards away from you, nothing but coldness and weakness and stillness. He owns nothing now.

Sharp spikes dig into your heart when you see that he sent you a string of texts the night he died.

i can’t stop thinking about you

i love you and i can make you love me again

come back

or i’ll come to you

please try one more time with me

“Thanks,” you tell Sarah, handing back the phone, when in reality, no part of you feels grateful upon seeing words he tried to say to you but couldn’t. You would have been better off not knowing.

You leave a part of yourself in that cemetery. It died with him. Because Rafe always said you were the only one who loved him and he left this earth thinking you didn’t anymore.

#this prompt is so good #and that song is gutwrenching oof #prepare for nothing but heartache below the cut #blurb #ask #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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wrenhavenriver · 1 year

Text

Okay I’m not done talking about this actually. Re: the Dishonored series’ attempts to reconcile its critical views of imperialism with keeping the characters who sit at the very top of the Empire likable, I think DH1 is considerably less obvious/glaring about this internal conflict than DH2 because: 1) it’s, duh, the first in the series, and suspension of disbelief comes a lot more naturally the first time you’re told “things will be better now, for real” than the second; and 2) Jessamine’s rule sees so little screentime it’s much easier to portray the miseries of the game as entirely attributable to Burrows’ rule (and the actions of other assorted Bad People™) without directly confronting the imperial system that put them all in a position to seize and promptly abuse power in the first place. Under a read more because I can't shut up, sorry.

Like, say you play DH1 for the first time on low chaos: you get the happy ending epilogue speech, and even if it seems to smooth everything over a little too optimistically for a game that otherwise shows a collapsing society and the corruption that brought it to that state in grim, unflinching detail, well, that’s mostly okay—you maintained low chaos, after all, in essence proving the Outsider’s “Perhaps that’s just the nature of man” theory wrong, and the good effects just rippled outward to a much a larger scale, which was pretty much the point of the chaos system in the first place. If it all sounds a little bit like the happy ending to a parable not particularly grounded in the realities of systems of power that the rest of the game was critiquing, maybe that’s just what happens when an entity as long-lived and far-sighted as the Outsider summarizes a period that is little more than a miniscule blip in time to him. Stand far enough back from something and all the rough edges blur out to nothing.

(Plus it’s a video game after all, so maybe you can suspend your disbelief/any personal political beliefs about real world empires you may have brought with you. Maybe it's nice to imagine that things can change meaningfully for the better for Dunwall and the other Isles simply by plopping a Kaldwin back onto the throne.)

The existence of DH2 makes it clear, though, that the ending monologue to DH1 really is more fairytale than reality (or, you know, what happens when a game gets greenlit for a sequel the devs of three years ago didn't know they'd get). A Kaldwin takes the throne—under the watchful eye and protection of her witchcraft-using Serkonan father, at that, a man with viscerally personal history with the Abbey, the City Watch, and the deeply xenophobic nobility—and despite all those very real family connections and personal reasons to want to reform things for the better, we step into Emily’s rule to see the people of Serkonos being trampled on and worked to death in the silver mines, the Abbey still freely hunting down and torturing or otherwise “disappearing” people suspected of witchcraft, and the Guard casually beating and murdering citizens—in one notable case, by throwing one directly into the same brutal Wall of Light technology mobilized to great effect by Burrows’ corrupt regime and that is still in wide use around Emily’s Empire fifteen years later.

Some of this chaos was instigated by Delilah and her inner circle (especially the Duke) leading up to the coup, but much of it is preexisting corruption that can’t be blamed on her—she and the coven certainly had no reason to prop up the Abbey, for one, and she didn’t have to create the aristocratic bitterness motivating turncoats like Ramsey, only give them an outlet for what was already simmering. Meagan, Sokolov, and Lucia Pastor all make it abundantly clear that this was not a momentary slip-up—Dunwall Tower had been looking the other way while violence and unrest grew for some time, because the human cost of keeping silver flowing was out of sight and out of mind, a function basically built into the system of Imperial rule. Not a bug, but a feature. A tendency toward retaining corrupt institutions, an erosion of empathy, because that’s what keeps the wheels turning and wealth being funneled upward.

So when low chaos Emily professes in mission nine that she’s learned her lesson and that from now on she’ll Pay Attention, really! to the four nation Empire she’s the head of, and the happy epilogue plays and we get another Outsider monologue about the golden age ahead, it just seems…vaguely absurd? Like, we already saw this! Burrows, Campbell, and the Bastard Trio™ of the loyalists were deposed or otherwise gotten rid of, making room for Good People™ with Good Intentions™ to take their place in charge and fix things—you’ve got Emily on the throne with Corvo to guide her; Yul Khulan, a “kind” man and eventual close personal ally of Emily’s, becomes High Overseer; Curnow, widely reputed as a Reasonable Authority Figure and rare man of principle in the Guard, has survived (and presumably still has some years of service as a Captain before the retirement mentioned in The Corroded Man).

And then we fast forward fifteen years and all these groups...still suck? The Empress hates her job and is eating off plates made of silver mined by Karnacan laborers dying hideously of terrible respiratory ailments, the Overseers we see in Karnaca are ransacking homes and torturing Outsider worshippers (a group including such dangerous people as *checks notes* newspaper artists), half the City Guard is on the payroll of the shitty aristocrats supporting Delilah’s coup, and the Grand Guard is passing the time by throwing people into Walls of Light. Emily’s reign began with a veritable A-team of Certified Good People and fifteen years later it's barely made a dent, because the system of imperial rule is built from the ground up to shelter corruption and complacency, to resist change, no matter who’s in charge and whether that person is “paying attention” or not. It’s beyond the power of one sufficiently motivated Empress and a team of well-intentioned people in positions of authority below her.

It’s tempting to say “no, it really was just an issue of Emily not taking her duties seriously, look at Jessamine’s rule, or Euhorn’s before her!” but the thing is Obvious Disasters like Violent Coups Aside we really don’t have much evidence that their rules were all that much better, or at the very least any less prone to corruption? DH1 again has the advantage over DH2 here, mostly by way of omission. We don’t get to actually see what life in the Empire is like under Jessamine, just that tiny sliver of time in the Prologue returning as Corvo to Dunwall Tower, where despite the player being told there’s a deadly plague about to bring the city to a “breaking point,” the scenery is beautiful and calm and the staff are polite and affable. It makes for very compelling contrast when the game fast forwards six months to the dank misery of Coldridge Prison, and then later the grim state of the streets filling up with corpses and weepers.

Mission six completes the comparison with a return to Dunwall Tower, where the courtyard is now brimming with hostile guards and surveillance towers and tallboys, and one lone maid who openly laments Jessamine’s passing. Life under the authoritarian despot who purposely instigated a plague for the purpose of wiping out the lower classes is, obviously, much worse than life under the benevolent Empress who is introduced to us passionately advocating for saving the lives of all of her citizens. But, in the same way Emily and her inner circle of Well-Intentioned People weren’t enough to dislodge the entrenched corruption and brutality—or prevent a new wave of it—Jessamine’s kindness can’t paint over the miseries of the imperial system she presides over. We the players see Coldridge Prison for the first time in the six-months-later flashback of Burrows’ rule, but it existed during Jessamine’s time—guards state explicitly in the DLC that she and Corvo used to come inspect it, in fact. Jessamine wholly loves Corvo, a native of Serkonos, but anti-Serkonan prejudice runs rampant in her court and city. Corvo and Emily wholly love Jessamine too, but the people of Dunwall are somewhat divided on the matter (“Long live the Empress!” “She was a WENCH!” / “Not everyone did, but I really liked the Empress…”). Burrows deceived Jessamine and took advantage of her trusting nature, but he only had the resources to do so in the first place because of the system that promoted him to Royal Spymaster, a position of incredible power and very little accountability.

Euhorn we know the least about, but we are told he enjoyed a “prosperous age”—a sentiment that falls somewhat flat when we learn that he had an affair with a chamber maid (the power differential of which is highly questionable at best), strung along the resulting illegitimate daughter with promises of elevating her to a princess that he never intended to keep, then took his chance when said daughter was blamed for breaking a vase to throw her and her mother out onto the streets, where the mother is brutalized by a prison guard and eventually dies in agony in debtor’s prison, leaving the daughter to fend for herself alone in the world. All of which shows us that the Empire is, in this age of “prosperity,” still a place of extreme power imbalances where the Emperor takes advantage of women in his employ, debtor’s prisons exist, guards can cause fatal injuries to civilians on a whim and face no consequences, and children are thrown with disdain onto the streets to die. Which, on many levels, is not all that different from the ages of other rulers who follow.

tl;dr these games show us over and over again that the Empire is built on a fundamentally broken system that perpetuates corruption and then try to append “but it’s okay so long as the people in charge are good people who are paying attention to their jobs” to the end of them for the sake of keeping those characters likable, and while the first game can get away with this by virtue of being the first game and using Jessamine’s rule primarily as a way to showcase how bad Burrows’ rule sucks by comparison, this falls flat when the very existence of the second game provides ample evidence that the Good Intentions of Generally Good People are not enough to counteract the entrenched cruelties of the institutions that keep imperialism afloat. Okay I'm going to go get another hobby now bye.

#kathryn plays video games

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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In the Midnight Hour Part 1

A little vampire Eddie for your enjoyment! Not actually sure where this one is going to go to be honest. This is just a way for me to play with Uncle Wayne, honestly.

Steve was lying in bed waiting for the inevitable. It always came around midnight like some diabolical clock.

He looked over at his alarm and watched it flip over to 12:00am. And there it was: the fluttering of wings and a tapping on his window.

He sighed and got up. He padded over to the window and opened it up.

“Back again, Munson?” Steve said dryly.

“Steve!” Eddie said throwing open his arms in greeting. “Miss me?”

Steve leaned out the window to see Eddie standing on the roof, like it was the top of his van. Happy and carefree.

He knew that he should just close the window and go back to his nightmares, but an alive, happy Eddie was too much of a draw, even if he was a hallucination.

“You know I do,” he murmured.

“So why don’t you let me in, big boy?” Eddie said leaning close to Steve.

Steve scoffed. “I know Vecna thinks I’m a dumb jock or whatever, but even I’ve seen vampire movies. You can’t come in unless I invite you and that’s not going to happen, sweetheart.”

Eddie cocked his head and grinned. “What makes you think I’m vampire, Stevie?”

“You mean other than the having to invite you in thing?” Steve asked with a huff of laughter. Eddie nodded. “Your bat wings, your sharp canine teeth, your ability to get up to my window without climbing...do I need to go on?”

Eddie’s grin grew darker, more feral. “Well, will you look at that, Stevie has seen a vampire movie or two.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Girls dig vampires and if it’s scary enough, it leads to some really great cuddling.”

“Ooh, the patented Harrington moves,” Eddie crowed. “Would love to see those in action.”

Steve scoffed again. “You would if you were real, but you’re not.”

Eddie’s wings lifted him aloft and he fluttered close to Steve’s face. “And what if I was real, what would you do then?”

“I’d probably kiss you,” Steve admitted. “But we both know you’re some nightmare Venca has sent to drive me crazy with grief so everyone else becomes easier pickings.”

Eddie frowned.

Steve shrugged. “Which won’t work by the way.”

Eddie landed back on the roof and sat down cross-legged. “And why not?”

“I’m a pragmatist. There wasn’t anything I could have said or done that would have changed the outcome of that fight,” Steve murmured. “Everyone likes to think that if they just could have done something different maybe you would have survived...” he lowered his head. “Because if my telling you not be a hero and you deciding to be one away...”

Eddie gulped. The implication that if Eddie had felt the same for Steve the way he had kept saying he did, then Eddie would have taken Steve’s feelings into consideration and figured out a way to save both him and Dustin.

Steve cleared his throat and straightened up. “I have to look at things logically otherwise I’ll break. And with Vecna still out there, I can’t.”

“That’s going to crush you one day,” Eddie said softly.

Steve laughed. It was so cold and bitter it made Eddie flinch. “I don’t think I’m going to survive beating your boss. Because I will. I will make sure he’s dead and never coming back.” Steve’s fists clenched. “And he can take the entire upside down with him, the rat bastard.”

Eddie’s answering laugh was cold. “And how do you plan to do that, pretty boy?”

“How would I know?” Steve said with wryly grin. “I’m not the planner, I’m tank you put in front of the oncoming forces.” Steve waved his hand, shooing Eddie. “So go. Run along back to Vecna. Tell him he can’t break me.”

He closed the window and went back to bed, leaving a stunned Eddie on the roof, alone.

Back at his...he looked around at the strange mess of clutter and detritus...lair? He guessed that was as good a term as any. Back at his lair, he kicked himself.

He really felt like he was getting somewhere with Steve this time, only to be shut out.

Again.

Of course it didn’t help that Steve still thought he was sent by Vecna to torment him. Which was fair. Just not true. Did Veckie know Eddie was there at Steve’s house every night? Sure. But he didn’t seem to care.

He didn’t know if Veckie was busy with whatever the geniuses were planning or if he firmly believed that Eddie wouldn’t do anything to betray him.

Which, fuck Veckie for that if it was true. Because Eddie would rip his head off if thought it would help his friends. But he knew it wouldn’t. Plus. Let that ‘rat bastard’ think bringing Eddie back to life was a hindrance for the party.

Not that anyone but Steve knew he was alive.

“You’re pathetic,” a voice sneered from behind him.

“Veckie!” Eddie greeted with a grin. “Or do you prefer Henry?”

The fleshy nightmare before him snarled. “You think your puny attempts to seduce Steve Harrington will save you from me?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. He dramatically placed his hand over his heart. “You think I’m flirting with Steve?” He began to laugh. “I’m overly chivalrous with everyone, dude.”

“I can see through your eyes,” Vecna said, his voice drippingly sweet. “You almost kissed him tonight, but my little coward chickened out, like he always does.”

Eddie scoffed. “Look, Veckie. I don’t care what you think you saw, but I don’t chicken out, not anymore.”

Vecna’s laughter filled the air. “Not even when he offered to kiss you?”

Eddie frowned. When had Steve offered to kiss him? He thought hard for a moment.

Oh.

And then he really started laughing. “Oh god!” He wiped a tear from his eye. “He did! I’m sorry I was too focused on the pragmatism to think about a kiss.”

Vecna scowled.

“I don’t visit him because I have a crush,” Eddie continued, grinning from ear to ear. “I know I keep him up at night, and a tired man makes mistakes. You just run along and let me work.” He patted Vecna on the chest and flopped on his bed, throwing out wings to make the landing soft and airy.

“Just let me know when you figure how to stop being beaten by little kids, yeah?” Eddie said, calling over his shoulder as her curled up into a little ball, his wings creating a blanket around him.

Behind him Vecna snarled and the pressure from his presence was gone.

Eddie sighed with relief. He knew Vecna could see through his eyes. But he didn’t always. He often chose to because he thought Eddie could get Steve to talk. So if Veckie wanted a sneaky-peak Eddie was going to be annoying about it.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #vampire eddie #ladykailtiha writes

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cloudyswritings · 4 months

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Traditional foods of Hallownest

So I just made Christmas cookies I can’t eat yet and my hunger is infinite. Hence this mess.

Boofly steaks: These are pretty much what they sound like, I feel like Booflies were essentially the cows of Hallownest. The quality of a Boofly steak is determined with how fatty it is, fattier cuts display very nice marbling. These are actually more savory in flavor than regular steaks and have a slightly more gelatinous/softer texture. Generally Boofly steaks will be served with lake-pearls(a macro algae native to the blue lake that has a salty and slightly sour flavor.

Aspid stew: this is a stew that’s made from the bottom half of and aspid(primal aspids have a much different flavor and are far less popular). Recipe is as follows

Carve up your aspid, start by removing the upper thorax and cleaning the intestines of any waste. Let the aspid drain some of its hemolyph and other juices into a jar.

Drain the acid from the aspids lower thorax, take care to entirely remove the acid glands. Store the acid in a chilled glass or ceramic jar for later.

finely mince some bitter root(a root native to the crossroads that tastes very sweet when boiled), and grind up some hyacinth flower petals, roughly a cupful of each will do.

Cut 2-3 tik-tik into fine strips(crawlids are an acceptable but inferior alternative) and lightly dust it with salt and soak in the juices from the aspid for about 35 minutes

Take the bottom half of the aspid and lightly bread the insides, once a small layer of breading is present pour in some water along with your bitter root and petals. Set this over a heat source for roughly an hour to ensure the bitterroot is thoroughly boiled.

Lightly sear the tik-tik meat and aspid meat before adding it to the stew, wait 20 minutes for it to cook.

Now that we’ve assembled most of our dish the most important part is up next. Because we chilled the aspid acid it should have taken on a gelatinous texture, mix this into any remaining aspid hemolyph and pour it into our stew. This should add a nice sharpness to the dish

Stir until the consistency is somewhere around that of a scrambled maskfly egg.

A traditional breakfast:

Scrambled maskfly eggs(they end up being close to an uncooked egg yolk in consistency) they’re generally something that is slurped up like a drink

Gruzzer bacon: this kinda tends to come in thicker slices than our bacon, it’s great when paired with a light drizzle of diluted aspid acid. Very very fatty, heavy umami flavor witha bite of saltiness.

Mashed crawlid balls: these are mashed up and thoroughly cooked crawlid meat mixed with assorted spices from greenpath and generally have a hollow center so juices from the meat can collect.

A cup of Gruzzer mead: Basically just a mix of gruzzer hemolymph and the pressed juices of a gulka. It has a very refreshing bite to it and a consistency like eggnog.

A rare delicacy: Aluba caviar, generally this is served in the shell of a shadow crawler(throughly cured and seasoned, generally for several months to ensure there’s no residual void) with a side of bioluminescent mushrooms exported from deepnest. This is generally a meal only reserved for the upper castes.

Finally: Rancid eggs can be cured and fermented into a cultural delicacy much like that one Icelandic shark dish. Suffice to say most bugs find this disgusting. The Pale king however thoroughly enjoy it, though this not public knowledge. It’s kinda his guilt pleasure along with chocolate (which is fatal or otherwise detrimental to nearly all other insects hence him being the only one eating it).

I’m definitely gonna do a part two for this once I write up some other recipes. Hopefully ones I put more thought into.

#fantasy food #food #hollow knight #hk pale king #Headcanon #worldbuilding #fake recipes #Bug are food #Yum yum #enjoy y’all

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bittersweetarts · 1 year

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Shades of Cool - Carmy Berzatto Fanfiction (The Bear)

Summary: Carmy Berzatto never considered himself to be lonely, just frequently alone. His neighbor however, makes him think otherwise.

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language

AO3 Page - Spotify Playlist

Chapter 1: Strangers

At half past midnight, Carmen Berzatto did not expect to find his neighbor perched against the wall, beside the dull wood door, which was built next to his own.

The young woman was clothed in an oversized burgundy jacket and a black dress, too short for Chicago’s bitter winter, and had her eyes shut, with her arms wrapped around herself. Her brown hair was limp against the side of her face. Carmen Berzatto also did not fail to notice how the girl was slightly shivering. She’s cold? Who would’ve fucking guessed.

Normally, Carmen Berzatto did not deal with shit that had nothing to do with him. God knows he has enough on his own plate.

Yes, he knew his neighbor, but vaguely so. He did not know her name, or literally anything about her.

Instead, Carmen Berzatto knew her as the girl who lived in Apartment 3B.

Unlike him, who slept until noon, Carmen knew that the girl, his neighbor, was a morning person; or at least had a job which forced her to be. She woke up at the crack of dawn every single day and played obnoxious music which seeped through the building’s thin walls, and Carmen could hear it in his sleep sometimes.

Carmen Berzatto could have nicely asked his neighbor to shut it off, but he knew that he probably was not great neighbor towards her either. In between the stench of his cigarettes, his screaming from night terrors and the fire alarms going off in his kitchen, Carmen Berzatto was sure that his neighbor hated him.

Yet, she didn’t. Because on many afternoons, as Carmy set off to oversee construction at The Bear, he would bump into her upon leaving. And the girl, always dressed more nicely than he was, would politely greet him, with a genuine smile, catching him off-guard.

This time however, Carmy Berzatto is the first one to greet her. Letting out a heavy breath, Carmy removed the hands from his pocket and walked up to the sleeping girl. Stood in front of her, he realized that he didn’t know what he should do.

How am I supposed to wake her without scaring her into thinking that I’m fucking Ted Bundy re-incarnated?

Thankfully, Carmy Berzatto did not have to contemplate his options for long at all, as the brunette, sensing a warm body near her, softly opened her eyes, to find a pair of familiar vibrant blue ones watching her. Slightly shaking her head, the young girl sat up straight and tilted her head, waiting for the man before her to speak.

“Evening.”

Carmy Berzatto mumbled, his gaze falling to the ground. What the fuck was he doing. That’s the only thing that ran through Carmy’s mind, as the girl before him stared back, with her bright hazel eyes.

“Hello.”

Her soft voice ricocheted along the narrow hallway.

It was silent for a heartbeat, as the girl stared back at Carmy. The silence was comfortable, in a way which confused Carmy Berzatto. Snap out of it.

“Everythin’ alright?”

Carmy brought his gaze back up to meet her’s. She, the girl, was pretty, Carmy noticed. Younger than he was for sure. Her face was done up nicely, in a way that was not too much. When was the last time he noticed things like that about a woman? He couldn’t remember.

With a tight smile, the girl responded.

“Peachy.”

Pressing his own lips together, Carmy Berzatto glanced at his door and contemplated whether to leave her and head to his apartment. It was obvious that his neighbor was locked out, and this was a first for him to see, in the months since he moved into the block. What did it matter to him?

“Already called maintenance?” Carmy spoke up, tilting his head to her door. This elicited a humorless laugh from the girl, who uncrossed her arms and pulled out a phone from her leather jacket’s pocket.

“Phone’s dead. Not that it matters, maintenance can’t fix a broken key.”

“… a broken key?”

Carmy’s brows furrowed at the girl’s response, and this seemed to humor her, as a bright smile broke out on her face.

“A broken key. I know, I can’t believe it either. Snapped in half when I was unlocking the door after coming back a few hours ago from a shitty date. Perfect end to the night.”

With her other hand, the girl took out a key, or rather the remnants of one, yawning as she did so.

As he looked at the broken key in the palm of her hand, Carmy couldn’t help but feel sympathy towards her. She was right, maintenance couldn’t help her. She would have to call someone in, and whoever that is, it would be only tomorrow morning, if at that. It was a Sunday, so even if she managed to get a locksmith to come in, they would charge premium rates. Letting out another sigh, Carmy’s righthand unconsciously snaked towards the back of his neck, rubbing at it lightly.

“You can borrow my phone. Call family or a friend.” As he spoke, Carmy pulled out his phone, reaching it out to his neighbor. At this, the girl’s smile strained.

“No one to call.”

And that is how Carmen Berzatto, unexpectedly, found himself inviting a girl to stay over at his place, at the early hours before dawn.

Carmy should have minded his own fucking business, he knew better. But it’s not like he could leave the barely clothed girl outside on her own, especially now that he knew she was all alone. Even though she was his height, she was still frail in appearance, and Carmy knew that a girl like her shouldn’t be left alone, even in the hallways of a building. Surely she could have gone to a 24-hour diner or some motel. Unless she only uses Apple Pay. Fucking Steve Jobs.

The girl, despite feeling apprehensive about accepting his offer, fearing that he might be a murderer, still accepted his offer, thanking him for his generosity. His large stature and the tattoos which she spotted on his hand as he unlocked his door intimidated her, but she tried to rationalize things to herself.

“Seline Hepburn.”

The young brunette called out as her new host had his back towards her. Turning around, the side of his lip tilted upwards slightly as he nodded.

“Carmy. Carmy Berzatto.”

“Nice to meet you, Carmy. To meet you properly, that is.”

Seline responded, her hands clasped behind her back. Upon entering, she was immediately slapped with the smell of cigarettes. She didn’t love it, but it didn’t bother her either.

Her eyes strayed towards room, taking in the surroundings as Carmy flicked a switch, the room’s ceiling lights flickering on after. As Seline glanced around the room, seeing how normal it looked, her smile relaxed. Not a murderer. Seline hoped.

His home was not much, Carmy knew that, and he never cared about it before. So why was he feeling slightly self-conscious about it now?

“Thank you again, genuinely. You can leave me here, I’ll sleep on the sofa. I promise not to rob your TV set or anything else here – Scout’s honor.”

Seline declared, placing a hand onto her heart. Carmy let a slight chuckle, and decided that he must have been really tired, because why else would he find her joke funny. Stripping off his winter coat, hanging it on a nearby hook, Carmy turned back to face Seline, who was still stood somewhat awkwardly by the door.

Normally, when Carmy returned home, he would eat whatever crap he had in the pantry, watching re-runs of whatever cooking show was on, until he fell finally asleep. Sleeping did not come easy to Carmy Berzatto, and as he watched his guest, her eyes wide and bright, he realized that the girl might suffer from a similar affliction.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” Seline’s bright smile returned to her face.

“This is the best meal I have had since moving here, what the fuck.” Seline exclaimed, as her fork scraped the sauce remnants on her plate. Carmy raised brows at her statement, not believing her.

The kitchen was warm, taken hostage by the smell of sizzling onions and garlic, aromatically sweet. Seline loved eating good food dearly, and as she devoured the pasta before her, she felt on top of the world.

Unaccustomed to cooking at home, Carmy had little to work with. Consequently, what he managed to whip up, was very lackluster, in his opinion: Spaghetti Aglio e Olio. Spaghetti with garlic and olive oil. The dish name sounds more impressive, and pretentious, than it actually is.

Carmy was used to having eyes on him whilst he was preparing meals, but rather than judgmental, Seline’s eyes were comforting. He didn’t mind being watched by her, nor her company, he realized not long after he started cooking. She did not feel the need to talk unnecessarily, and Carmy appreciated that, especially after how long his day has been.

The two strangers were stood in his spacious kitchen, leaning against the cabinets whilst eating their late dinners, mostly in comfortable silence. Unlike Carmy, who kept his eyes glued to the ground, Seline was attentively watching the man, as though he was the most interesting thing in the world.

“You must be easy to impress then.”

Carmy finally answered back, bluntly, as he approached Seline. For a moment, he wondered whether he had offended the girl, but he didn’t have to for long, as his comment garnered a light laugh from her.

Taking hold of her empty plate, Carmy turned to the sink, and began to rinse the dishes.

“No, Carmy, please let me. You have been so kind and courteous, it’s the least I can do.” Seline protested, coming up to Carmy, close enough that he could smell her. Earthy, like sage. Carmy Berzatto found the scent comforting.

Carmy ignored her protests, focusing on the motions of scrubbing the dishes. Understanding that he was not going to oblige with her request, Seline leaned near the counter, crossing her arms, let to her own devices, or rather, her thoughts.

Seline wanted to ask her neighbor where he had learned to cook so impressively. She wanted to ask him about his tattoos, which were spread across his muscular arms, exposed in his simple white tee. Seline wanted to pry into his life.

This was one of Seline Hepburn’s worst traits. Seline was a curious child growing up, and as she grew older, she found herself drawn to anything, and anyone. When she was younger, Seline would open herself up entirely to people she hardly knew, believing that companionship could grow from there. But Seline learned from her past that being caring and compassionate only leads to pain.

So instead, Seline refrained herself and kept her cool, smiling at her new-found acquaintance as he cleaned the dishes, and then the countertop and cooker. Carmy didn’t seem keen to talk or share his life story anyway, so it was not difficult to remain silent, just watching him.

And watching him was… interesting? How could Seline describe it?

All those days she had seen him in passing, Seline had never particularly noticed her neighbor. Their meetings were fleeting, and beyond Carmy’s captivating eyes, there was nothing remarkable about his appearance. Or so Seline thought.

Now watching him, his stoic face focused and his arms tense as he worked, Seline felt herself flush. He was really handsome, and Seline felt like she could admire him as people admired works of art. Observing him, Seline had long forgotten about what lead her to this point in the night.

“Pretty girls like you normally have boyfriends to go to. Where’s yours?”

Carmy spoke up as he finished cleaning, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He offered the box to Seline, who declined, shaking her head, before tilting it to the side and responding to his comment, cheekily smiling.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Though Carmy remains silent, this reaps a small smile from him, his cigarette hanging on the side of his lip. This made Seline feel triumphant, and perhaps that is why she ended up oversharing about her personal life, despite her earlier resolve not to. Leaning more into the countertop, she answered lowly.

“My boyfriend is sleeping around with my best friend. Hence, I don’t have a boyfriend, or a best friend, to call now.”

As Seline finished, her eyes shifted towards the open window, her smile dropping and her mood turning sullen. The view was nothing spectacular, just another brick building, with no life, all its residents asleep. As Seline looked away, Carmy intently watched her, her chest rising and falling steadily, betraying little of her feelings beyond apathy. Carmy thought that girls were usually more emotional with shit like this.

In the brief time they had spent together, Carmy had become accustomed to the happiness that radiated from Seline, which was perhaps why he tried to cheer her up, without even intending to, which was abnormal for his character. Taking another drag of his cigarette, Carmy spoke up again.

“Well, pretty girls also shouldn’t have to deal with shitty boyfriends.” Another drag of the cigarette.

“… you’re better off.”

Seline turned back to face Carmy but kept her eyes down. Instead, she observed his tattoos, or rather the ones that are visible. They were – silly, cute – Seline thought. A snail. The outline of a globe contained in a beaker. A knife stabbing a hand. The letters – S O U – detained on his fingers. He is either a nut job, a dealer, or a chef. Can’t imagine many offices would be keen on having him around.

Forcing a smile, Seline raised her eyes, and met Carmy’s stare. In most circumstances, a silence drawn out as theirs would be awkward, uncomfortable. But it wasn’t for them. In the background, the city murmurs quietly, accompanied by the sound of sirens and kitchen static.

“So is Sou your girl or your wife?” Seline jested, a genuine grin sneaking on her mouth. Carmy’s brows furrowed in response, confused.

“Sue?”

Seline raised her own hand, showing her bare knuckles.

“S-O-U, Sou?”

At this, Carmy let out a laugh. He really must be more tired than he thought. Glancing to her left, Seline found a mug, with various pencils and pens. And a sharpie, perfect.

Seline quickly grabbed the black sharpie from the mug, and gently grasped Carmy’s left hand, which wasn’t holding his diminishing cigarette. Carmy, unfazed by her actions, merely jutted his chin down, watching his neighbor.

“Did your tattoo artist forget the -P or -S?” It took Carmy a few moments to process her question.

“You really think I wanted SOUP to be inked on me forever?”

“Some people really love soup. Who am I to judge?”

Seline took his response to mean that an -S was missing. Sous. A sous-chef then. The brunette thought. Taking the sharpie, she carefully tried to mimic the font and size of the rest of the letters. As she finished, she set down the sharpie, her eyes still fixed on his hand, and she let her fingers trace over the tattoos on his fingers, her maroon nails gently scraping over his skin.

Her hands were cool, Carmy noticed. He liked it, the feeling of her cold touch against his warm skin. Carmy knew that he was warm-blooded. It was not unusual for him, in Chicago’s freezing weather, to be underdressed. He deduced that Seline was not the same. Even now, she was dressed in her heavy jacket indoors. Maybe he should turn the heater on?

“Xanny or lasagna?”

“What?”

Carmy’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and when Seline looked back up at him, he felt like he was deer caught in the headlights.

“Do you sell xanny or lasagna?” Seline asked, her smile bright as stars. Carmy couldn’t help but laugh again. When was the last time he laughed so much?

“Lasagna, I guess.”

He made more than just lasagna, Carmy thought. We didn’t even serve lasagna at the fucking Beef. But why should she care?

“So you’re a chef?”

Carmy nodded, his face back to a neutral expression. Feeling triumphant about guessing correctly from the beginning, Seline’s smile grew even wider. She then let go of his hand, leaning back against the countertop, and Carmy was saddened by that for a moment.

Shaking his head slightly, Carmy crushed his cigarette stub into a nearby ashtray. The fumes started affecting Seline, who let out a yawn, which made Carmy realize how tired she looked now, her eyes red and glossy. Glancing at the clock, he saw how late it was. Past one in the morning.

“Take my bed, I’ll take the couch.” Carmy said, walking out of the kitchen, expecting his neighbor to follow. Follow Seline did, albeit a little behind, as she stood in the kitchen alone for a moment, thinking on what he said.

“Wait, I can sleep on the couch, it’s not an issue at all. I can sleep on the floor if you’d prefer, I don’t mind as long as you don’t have any rats.”

Seline ranted as she caught up to Carmy, who turned around to face her as she finished. Flatly, he answered.

“I do have rats. Take the bed.”

Seline’s diluted eyes widened as Carmy spoke. She stared at him blankly, feeling slightly sick now, at the thought of there being rodents in the building. As she did, a small smile appeared on Carmy’s face. He found her reaction cute, as though she was a little girl. It took Seline a moment to realize that he was not serious.

“… and you’re fucking with me. Asshole.”

Seline muttered, pulling on the sleeves of her jacket as her stare dropped. She then strode ahead of him, to what she assumed was his bedroom, and Carmy watched her amusingly.

“Yes, I’m fucking with you, princess.”

At his mocking pet name, Seline turned around to face her host, in front of the closed door of his room, her brows cross.

“I thought we were getting along with each.” Seline muttered again, but her tone half-serious, half-joking.

“We aren’t?” Carmy responded, his arms crossed in front of him, the muscles on his forearms tense.

Carmy was a lot more closer to her than he realized, but Seline noticed. Though they were the same height (or were they, maybe Seline was slightly taller than Carmy), Seline still felt small in front of him.

There was something about him, so unlike the guys she was used to meeting. Carmy was harsh and intimidating, Seline could tell. But he was also soft… tender? As she stared at his blue eyes, Seline felt stupid for thinking about this, for making shit up in her head.

But was she imagining something between them, she wondered, especially when she saw his eyes stray lower, to her lips, and then lower. When his arms uncrossed and a hand slivered towards her, she did not move, nor flinch. She merely tilted her head in anticipation, but was met with disappointment, as Carmy’s hand grasped the door handle before her, opening the bedroom door.

As he did, Seline unconsciously moved to the side in surprise, and Carmy strode into the cold room, small in size and empty, except for the few pieces of furniture which did little to make the room seem not bare. In contrast, Seline’s apartment was loud and lively, stuffed to the brim with books and other knickknacks, as though she were a tidy hoarder.

Wordlessly, Carmy switched on the lights and rummaged through his dresser, and then turned around, handing Seline a pair of dark sweatpants and a long-sleeved top. Mumbling a silent “thanks”, Seline began stripping off her jacket, much to the shock of Carmy, who immediately turned around and turned his gaze downward.

“Oh… you are changing here. Like here, right now.”

This made Seline laugh, her teeth chattering slightly as she shivered in her lingerie, before putting on his clothing, which was soft to the touch. It smelled like fresh laundry.

“Don’t tell me you’re a prude, Carmy.”

He slightly chokes at this, and keeps his eyes glued to the floor, remaining silent. When she finishes, Seline watches him for a moment. Seline has shared a bed with friends many times before, and they were kind of friends, in some weird, convoluted way, right?

“You can turn around now. I’m dressed.” Seline said as she began folding her small dress, placing it atop the dresser. Instead of facing her, Carmy headlined towards the door, but before he could leave, the young brunette grasped his wrist.

“Listen, I am not letting you sleep on the couch in your own home.” Seline protested. Turning to face her, Carmy met her gaze.

“It’s not a big deal. I sleep there most nights.” Seline shook her head, not believing him, despite the fact that he was telling the truth.

“Share the bed with me.” Carmy raised his brows at this.

“It’s not a big deal, honestly. And tomorrow morning, you’ll lend me your phone, so that I can call a locksmith. Wait, do you have an iPhone charger?” Carmy’s brows raised even more incredulously.

“Yes, beside the nightstand.”

“Great.” Seline walked away from Carmy, digging through the pockets of her jacket, before approaching the nightstand to plug her phone in, still speaking.

“See, I don’t even need to borrow your phone. I’ll call the locksmith tomorrow, go back to my home, feed my little turtles, and we can go back to being strangers, slash neighbors.”

As Seline finished, she sat down on the bed, tilting her head, waiting for him to say something. But he doesn’t and continues to stare at her emotionlessly.

Sighing, Seline stood up, and continued speaking as she walked towards the door, where Carmy stood, his arms crossed again.

“It’s fine. I really appreciate you not letting me stay out on the hallway. Take the bed and I’ll take the couch. It’s not a big deal.”

Carmy doesn’t budge as Seline stood in front of him. Stood in front of him so closely, Seline felt small, despite him not being taller than her. The two of them stare at each other silently for a heartbeat before Carmy finally speaks.

“You’ve got turtles? As in plural?” Carmy’s side of the lip tilts as he shakes his head. At this, Seline lightly slaps his chest, letting out a laugh.

“Is that the only thing you heard?” Seline shook her head in slight disbelief, and waited for Carmy to move so that she could leave the bedroom. He doesn’t though, and remains silent, staring at her, the two almost touching each other. Not brown. Her eyes are not brown. They have some grey in them. Or a muted green. Carmy noticed silently.

Sighing aloud, Seline took a step backward, and then another, until she reached the bed, the side of the nightstand, which was near the bedroom’s window. There were no curtains, Seline noticed. She sat down on the bed again, and stared at Carmy, who was still stood by the door. Shaking her head again, she slipped under the duvet cover, turning her back to her host.

And Carmy, while watching her, contemplated his options. The couch was fine, he really did sleep there most nights. But for some reason, he couldn’t understand why he felt drawn towards her, Seline. Fucking testosterone.

Glancing back once more at Seline, who still had her back to him, Carmy exhaled and quietly rummaged through his dresser for a towel and change of clothing, before switching off the lights and leaving the bedroom.

Feeling dirty from the day, Carmy headed to his bathroom, and stripped his clothing for a quick shower. As he mechanically scrubbed his body clean, Carmy’s mind was else. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice how he roughly scrubbed away the -S drawn onto his finger only a while earlier.

In addition to the usual anxious thoughts about The Bear, especially as its opening is behind schedule, due to another fucking burst pipe, something else crossed Carmy’s mind, for the first time in a while.

His night terrors, and sleep-walking/cooking. He hasn’t experienced them in months now, not since he read Mikey’s letter and shut The Beef. Really, there was no reason for him to have them that night, and nothing had stressed him out particularly more that day. The Bear was doing good enough, they will be able to catch up on the schedule. Finances were fine. The family was getting along, even fucking cousin and Sidney.

But then again, there was still one thing that never failed to drive him crazy: Mikey.

“Shut the fuck up.” Carmy absently mumbled to himself as he turned off the shower faucet. Carmy hated when he was alone like this, with no work to distract him. His thoughts were too much for him to bear sometimes. Too fucking much.

Exhaling loudly, Carmy dried himself, and put on his clothing. In his pants and wifebeater, Carmy passively brushed his teeth whilst staring at his reflection. He tried to focus on his appearance, anything to distract himself. He hasn’t shaved in a couple days, and it was obvious. And as usual, his overgrown hair demanded a barber.

The apartment was dead silent as he laid down on his couch, which was musty and in need of a deep clean. Normally, he smoked before sleep, but he didn’t feel like it now. Instead, he stared at his TV set, debating whether to switch it on. He didn’t care about what was on, whatever it was, it would be distracting enough.

The remote was on the stand though, not within arm’s reach.

Sighing, Carmy stood and went up to the TV. But he didn’t grab the remote. Instead, he stared at it, before he impulsively walked past it, and towards his bedroom once again.

The room was dark as he quietly entered, except for the city lights which crept in through the window. Carmy gently sat on the bed, trying not to wake Seline, who still had her back, and was about to lie down, until a girlish voice echoed through the room, making Carmy flinch in surprise.

“Good night.”

Seline turned around to face him, her voice cloudy with sleep. Is she a light sleeper? Carmy thought.

“Night.” Carmy finally responded, laying down on his side of the bed. He faced the ceiling, watching the fluorescent lights that shone onto it. I really need to get some fucking curtains.

And Seline, half-awake now, watched him, her face half buried into the only pillow on the bed. She probably was ruining it with her makeup, but she couldn’t care. I’ll wash it for him tomorrow. Seline resolved sleepily.

At that moment, she did not notice that Carmy not only let her have the pillow, but the comforter entirely as well. What she did notice though, was how dreamlike Carmy looked. Even in the dark, his eyes were glowing, and his features reminded her of the statues that you see in museums.

Carmy could feel her lingering stare, but again, he didn’t mind it. After some time though, he spoke up, still not feeling tired at all.

“Bife de tartaruga.” Carmy whispered, so quietly that he didn’t expect Seline to hear him.

“What?” Seline responded, her voice bouncing off the walls again.

“Bife de tartaruga. It’s a Cape Verdean dish. Turtle steak. I made it once.”

His time at the CIA, the Culinary Institute of America, flashed through his eyes. Pierre Thiam, a visiting chef, taught the dish in an elective class he attended once. He even got to try it. It was really fucking good, the acidic turtle flesh melting into his mouth.

Carmy felt the bed shift slightly, and suddenly, he was softly smacked on the head with a pillow. His pillow. Her girlish laughter followed, and she giggled through her words as well.

“Shut up.”

Seline’s laugh was warm, real, and Carmy couldn’t help but smile at it.

Author’s Note: Carmy is so babygirl – I had to write a story about him, I really had to, you know

– Chapter 2

#carmy #carmy the bear #the bear #fanfiction #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x oc #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #reader #oc #original character

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