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munsonhoneybaby · 11 months

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Dustin Doesn't Know | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader

Summary: As things with Eddie start to go farther and farther, you worry how your relationship would impact Dustin if he found out.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use (marijuana), stoner!reader, smut, fwb-esque, oral (m and f receiving), balls??, fingering, p in v (protected), praise, implied subspace?? idk if that was coming across tho???

A/N: there’s a lot of stuff about reader that i’m super vague on because i’m thinking of explaining it more in the final part or maybe additional drabbles and stuff like that (she is adopted tho). i really hope that this chapter lives up to the hype and praise that the first one got since it’s taken me three months to update lol. as always lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

part one | finale | tmic masterlist

When you heard the soft groan of your window slowly sliding open, you couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across your face. Turning around, you were met with Eddie maneuvering his lean body through the window; it wasn’t quite as awkward as you’d expected, but he certainly wasn’t as silent as he’d hoped to be as his feet thudded on your carpeted floor.

“Not too bad, Munson. You’re definitely lucky being a heavy sleeper runs in the Henderson DNA, though.” As you face him completely, he holds out a baggie of weed and a small box.

Eyebrows furrowing, you took it to examine it further as he explained. “It’s uh– incense. I noticed you lit some last time, figured it was for the smell.”

“Yeah, makes it a little easier for Mom to pretend she doesn’t know.” Opening the package, you placed one of the sticks in the holder and lit the end. “That’s really sweet, Eddie, thank you.”

“Hope the scent is alright ‘n everything, I didn’t really know what you like.” Shrugging his jacket off, he tossed it over the back of the chair at your desk.

Suppressing a smile, you bent down to the drawer next to him to get out your tray and paper again, “It’s actually one of my favorites.”

“Oh,” He seemed pleasantly surprised, but he kept his head down as he took a seat at your desk. “Good.”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m gonna roll? Why? What’s it look like I’m doing?”

Flicking the back of his head, you replied, “Suit yourself then, smartass. I was gonna do it this time, but never mind.”

“Jeez, touchy,” He huffed playfully as he swatted your hand away. “I don’t mind rolling, I’d be doing it if I were at home right now anyway. Your only job is to sit there and look pretty for me, alright?”

“A little demeaning, but I think I can handle it,” You sighed dramatically. Much like last time, you stretched yourself out on the bed, lying on your stomach as you watched him roll the joint. His fingers handled the paper so delicately, knowing exactly how to roll and pinch it without threatening to rip it. Every now and then one of his rings would drag or clink against the wood of your desk, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as you remembered the way the cool metal had felt against your hot skin.

“So, how’ve you been doing?” He placed the finished joint between his lips and held his lighter to it as he claimed the first long drag of the night. “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”

“I really am sorry about that,” You answered bashfully. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear I don’t usually do stuff like that.”

“What? You mean invite in guys you hardly know to make ‘em dinner and let ‘em finger you?” Wearing a massive smirk, he held the joint out to you. You accepted it but huffed embarrassedly and his smirk only grew. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, babe. Christ knows I’m reliving every second, I could recite every gory detail back to you.”

“I don’t know why you’re reliving it. You made me come, got blue balls, and went home.”

“So? Making you come is like seventy-five percent of the fun. Jerking off’ll make up for missing the rest,” He shrugged.

“You really don’t hold anything back, huh?” You croaked around a chestful of smoke.

“Maybe I just don’t feel like I have to with you.” You couldn’t tell if that statement went deeper than this conversation. “Should I?”

“You don’t have to hold anything back with me, Eddie,” You answered honestly. “As long as you behave around my brother.”

He pointed a finger toward you in warning as his lips curled mischievously, “I’ll remember you said that.”

Rolling your eyes, you take a couple extra hits from the joint before passing it back. He watched as you laid back on the bed, closing your eyes and slowly exhaling, the smoke billowing upwards. Eyes wandering down your body, he took in the way your shirt had rolled up to show the flesh of your tummy, how the band of your thong peeked out of your pajama pants– a different pair than last time– and accentuated the dip of your waist. He wondered how many people had gotten to see you like this; he wondered if they really appreciated it.

“You’re about to get ash on my carpet and I’m gonna have to kick your ass,” You spoke abruptly, breaking him from his reverie.

“I’m shaking, babe,” He monotoned as he ashed it in the tray.

“You should be.”

“What’s with you, hm?” He stood and placed the joint between his lips, lifting his arms to stretch his back and shoulders. His voice was teasing as he stepped toward your bed, toward you.“Bein’ so mean to me today. You know, you were a lot nicer the last time we smoked together.”

Scooting over to make room for him on the bed, your eyes caught on the faint trail of hair leading into his jeans before lifting to meet his. Reaching out to take the joint back, you said, “‘M not being mean. Just keeping you in line, Munson.”

Crawling into the bed beside you, he settled on his side, head resting in his hand. “Probably a good idea.” Hoping his fingers weren’t twitching with nerves, he slowly grazed them over the soft skin of your stomach. “You know I’m always gettin’ into trouble.”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you,” You posited, taking yet another long drag.

“A close one,” He hummed in agreement. His touch moved up your stomach, raising goosebumps in its wake as your head slumped against his shoulder. “This okay?”

Though you were leaning into his touch, you asked, “Do you think this is a bad idea?”

Eddie’s hand froze and he leaned back slightly to try to look at you. “What? What do you mean? Do you think it is?”

You didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. You’re just so important to Dustin and I don’t want to change the way he sees you. I would never want something between us to affect your relationship with him.”

“In the nicest way possible, babe–” He brushed your hair back from your face, finally locking eyes with you. “You worry too much. We’re both adults, alright? Even if something were to happen, I wouldn’t let Dustin get caught in that. We’d work around it, y’know? I think we could be mature about it. If things went bad, that is– and I mean, I don’t really think they would–”

You stretched your neck to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Careful of the now-unlit joint still in your hand, you squeezed his side. “You’re probably right, Eds.” Your lips trailed to his jaw, lined with a light smile. “I won’t worry about it anymore tonight, I didn’t mean to get you worked up.”

His cheeks flushed and he mumbled only half-jokingly, “‘M not worked up. Just don’t want you runnin’ out on me just yet, you’re actually kinda cool.”

Your eyes softened and your hand slid from his side to his chest, “I won’t go anywhere, Eddie. You don’t have to worry about that. Now,” Pressing against his chest, you urged him onto his back so you could straddle his thighs. He bit down on his lower lip, looking up at you with eager eyes. Slipping your hand into his jeans pocket for his lighter, you continued, “Enough with the heavy. We still have half a joint to finish and I seem to remember getting interrupted in the middle of something important the last time you were here.”

“You know, you really don’t have to feel obligated,” He reminded you. Still, his hands immediately wandered from your thighs, up your sides, and back.

“Who said I felt obligated, hm?” The pads of your fingers brushed his lips as you placed the lit joint between them. “Maybe I’ve just really been looking forward to making you come.”

A cloud of smoke rolled from his mouth as he groaned, clutching your hips to draw you further toward him. “Fuck, keep talking like that and it’s gonna happen way too soon, sweet thing. Been thinkin’ about it, huh?”

“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since you left,” You answered. “About what you’d do when you got home.”

“Yeah?” His hand crept beneath your shirt, running up your spine before guiding you closer. “That’s cute, baby. Thought about me stroking my cock and thinkin’ how much better that pretty pussy would feel instead? You didn’t touch yourself after I left, did you?”

Hips already grinding down against his, you lightly pinched his side. “None of your business.”

“Wait, seriously? I was just fucking around, did you actually make yourself come thinking about me beating off?”

Your head fell back and you let out a laugh that was way too loud for the time of the night. “Eddie, what the fuck?”

He said your name, tone far more serious than his statement required. “You have no idea how fucking hot that is. You’re actually about to make me bust in my pants.”

“Well don’t, alright? We were just getting to the good part when somebody got sidetracked,” You teased. Leaning down, you let your lips graze his and smiled. “Let me make you feel as good as you made me feel, yeah?” After pressing a quick peck to his lips, you sat up. “Take off your shirt.”

“Bossy,” He muttered with false exasperation. As he yanked his shirt over his head and whipped it across the room, he felt your hands drift to the button of his jeans. He tilted his chin to kiss you deeper than before.

“Of course, you have more tattoos,” You huffed.

He might have asked if that was a problem if he hadn’t picked up on the subtle whine behind your voice. “Mmm, should’a known you’d dig the tatties. I’ll give you a tour later, huh, sweetheart? Wouldn’t wanna get sidetracked again, would we?”

“You’re a jackass, y’know that?”

“I think I’ve been told once or twice, yeah.” Hand framing your jaw, his rings pressed into one side of your neck as his left slow, open-mouthed kisses along the other. “Pretty baby,” He hummed lowly against your ear. “Bein’ so good to me.”

“You still haven’t let me show you how good I can be,” You replied breathily.

“I just keep on distractin’ you, huh?” He pressed a couple playful kisses to your lips before asking, “Want me to let you get back to work?” Before he’d even finished his sentence, you were unzipping his jeans and scooting backward to tug them past his hips.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be big,” You whined as you eyed the outline of his length within the confines of his boxers.

“I’ll try not to let that go to my head,” He jested with a smirk.

“I’m sure it will anyway. That’s okay though, your confidence isn’t misplaced, Eds.” When you finally pulled his boxers down, you practically had to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan at the sight. His cock twitched against his lower abdomen, precome almost dripping into the hair there. “Eddie, shit. Gonna taste so good.”

The way his length jumped at the sound of your voice almost had you drooling. He held your hair back from your face, thumb rubbing over your cheek as your hand wrapped around his base. “So fuckin’ dirty, gettin’ all desperate to suck my cock. Go on, baby, I won’t keep you waiting anymore.”

“I think I’m the one who’s s’posed to be saying that,” You hummed. Leaning forward, you let spit drip from your lip to the head, slowly stroking him.

“Don’t sweat it, you’re worth holding out for.” His words already held a faint pant. As your tongue traced his length he tightened his grip on your hair. When your lips finally wrapped around him, his mouth fell open, a shaky breath escaping him as he hits the back of your throat. “Shit, definitely worth it.” Eyes glazed, he watched how your cheeks hollowed around him, how your lashes fluttered as you kept your eyes down. “Look at me, sweet thing. Gimme those eyes.” Nervously doing as he asked, your gaze locked with his and he stifled a groan. “Too fuckin’ pretty.”

His hand still sweetly held your hair back from your face as you let his cock slip from your spit-soaked lips, mouthing sloppy kisses along it until you reached his balls. Your tongue laved across one and his eyes rolled back, head falling against your pillows. “What the fuck,” He groaned incredulously. “You’re fucking unreal. I have to be dreaming right now.”

“Vivid dreamer,” You quipped lowly.

Smirk never leaving his face, he tugged lightly at your hair, drawing a small gasp from you. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had this dream, sweetheart. Definitely never felt this good before, though.”

“Glad I’m living up to your expectations, Munson.” Taking him back into your mouth, the musky taste of his precome coated your tongue. The moan he fought to hold back became a whimper as you lapped up every drop. Resisting the urge to gag, you bobbed your head further until your nose brushed the dark curls around his base. Your nails dragged lightly over the ink winding around his hipbone, making them jerk in response.

“You have no idea,” A whine was beginning to leak into his tone. “‘M already close, baby. You’re s’fucking good. Such a good girl for me.” Hand cradling the back of your head, his hips rutted carefully to meet your movements. Nails digging into his hips encouragingly, you tried to keep your eyes on him as the rise and fall of his chest grew more rapid. “Fuck, you’re g’nna make me come.” You moaned eagerly, vibrations making his thighs tense.

Not wanting to pull your hair too hard, Eddie clutched your bedding instead. His other hand formed a fist which he bit down on, huffing out ragged breaths around it in an attempt to keep quiet. You could feel his cock twitch as his come filled your mouth and a tremor ran through his body as he watched you swallow all of it.

He was still panting as you crawled to his level, planting a far-too-sweet kiss on his lips and smiling. Shaking his head, he breathed, “Too fuckin’ good.”

“Happy to return the favor.”

“Fuck favors.” His hand found a home in your hair again as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. His free hand lifted your shirt until you leaned back so he could tug it over your head. “I just want you. Are you alright with that?” You just looked into his eyes for a moment– silently communicating something that you weren’t sure either of you fully understood– before your lips met his again, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. Calloused fingertips brushed down the sensitive skin of your neck and over your chest to your nipples. You shivered, goosebumps pebbling your skin as he teased them with the pads of his thumbs. Your mouth fell open against his and his teeth nipped your lower lip. Trailing a few kisses along your jaw, he murmured, “Pretty baby.”

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the hallway followed by the bathroom door creaking made you both freeze. You glanced at your bedroom doorknob to ensure it was locked before you and Eddie both eyed the alarm clock on your nightstand. It was almost a quarter past three in the morning and Dustin would be getting up for school in less than four hours.

“That’s my cue, isn’t it?” He pouted.

“I think so,” You sighed. Lifting your hips, you allowed him to fix his boxers and jeans before he handed you your shirt. “We can hang out again soon though, okay?”

“Yeah,” He snorted, crawling out of your bed to search the other side of the room for his own shirt. “‘Hang out’. ‘Cause I do this with all my friends, y’know?”

“I’m sorry, do you want me to say you can sneak in my window for head again?”

Laughing, he pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his shoes back on before walking back over to you. His hands cradled your jaw, tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes from where he stood between your legs. “Maybe I wanna give you head next time, hm? How ‘bout that?”

Body heating embarrassedly, you tried to look anywhere but his eyes. “I’ll consider it.”

“Mmm, good.” He pressed a long, slow kiss to your lips before hesitantly pulling back. “I’ve got a lot to think about until the next time I see you.”

“I’ll call you, okay?”

Grinning, he swiped his thumb over your cheek one last time before he headed for your window. “I’ll be waiting, Henderson.” He ducked back out the window and you peeked your head out after him. Throwing you a quick wink, he started to cut across the yard where he must have parked a few doors down, lighting a cigarette on his way. This was far from the last time Eddie Munson would make an escape from your window.

Letting out another sigh, you kicked off your pajama pants and climbed back into bed. After spending nearly an hour tossing and turning, your hand found its way between your legs, seeking relief so you could finally fall asleep.

Nearly four weeks later, you were watching TV in the living room when the boys came in after school. Dustin threw himself down on the couch with a loud groan while Lucas and Mike both sat down with much less dramatic frustration. “I just don’t understand why they can’t rehearse somewhere else, Hellfire uses the same room every week and they’ve already kicked us out once!”

“Well, it is the drama room and they are rehearsing for the school musical,” You reminded him, going to the kitchen. He grumbled something unintelligible in response as you poured glasses of water for all three boys. “You guys could always have Hellfire here again. Gives Mom a reason to get out of the house and I don’t mind having you guys as long as you don’t totally trash the basement.”

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, cautiously. “...Will you make snacks ‘n stuff?”

Rolling your eyes, you ruffled his hair which made him swat at your hand as you answered. “I suppose I could do something like that. I’m not making anything extravagant though. Let me know if there are any allergies I should know about.”

“Should someone call and ask Eddie?” Lucas piped up. “You know how he can get. He probably won’t like not having his throne again.”

“Eddie would probably have Hellfire here every week if he could,” Mike scoffed. After a none-too-subtle look from Lucas though, he glanced at Dustin, then you, and seemed to think better of it. “‘Cause of the uh- snacks, y’know.”

“Right, anyways–” Lucas took over, inconspicuously trying to guide the conversation back on track. “Someone should probably call him and let him know so he can tell the rest of the guys.”

Over the course of the past month, Eddie had snuck in a grand total of three times, and between these secret smoke sessions you managed to squeeze in conversation at the weekly Hellfire meetings. You called him every now and then when no one else was home, but that was it. While you suspected he’d told Jeff and Gareth, you definitely didn’t believe he would say anything to Lucas or Mike. Whatever suspicions they had, you just hoped they wouldn’t share them with Dustin.

You raised an eyebrow at the two of them questioningly and, in almost perfect sync, they stood and said, “I’ll do it!” You still had no idea how they got away with lying to their parents so often.

You suppressed a smile as you heard Iron Maiden’s “Phantom of the Opera” slowly growing louder until Eddie’s van creaked to a halt in your driveway the next week. The music cut out, replaced by voices and doors slamming. He didn’t even knock before he walked in, Jeff and Gareth in tow. Wearing a wide grin, his dimples were on full display as he leaned across the counter separating the front room from the kitchen. “Heard all this was your idea. You obsessed with me or somethin’, Henderson?”

“Excuse me for trying to be a good big sister, I’ll let them kick you to the basement with newspaper and AV club next week.”

He opened his mouth to respond but got distracted when he caught sight of just how much food you made. It looked like you were hosting a potluck; there were three different crockpots plugged in, at least four covered pots on the stovetop, and countless bowls and foil-covered plates scattered across the countertops. “Woah.”

“Did you make all this?” Jeff asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I hope you didn’t eat anything before you came. I may have gone a little overboard.”

The three of them grabbed paper plates and Gareth chimed, “How long were you cooking?”

“I don’t know uh– since around ten this morning? It’s really not a big deal. Dustin was at school all day and Mom was at work and I had the day off anyway, figured I had nothing better to do.” You shrugged, turning to get a few glasses out of the cabinet for them. “You can drink whatever outta the fridge. The boys are already downstairs digging in, of course.”

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do so much. We would’ve been thrilled for a couple bags of chips and a two-liter.”

“Yeah, seriously. Thank you,” Jeff added, he and Gareth piling their plates high.

“It’s my pleasure, guys. Really.”

Eddie’s plate was still empty in his hand, waiting up for them to head to the basement so he could get a moment alone with you. The other two noticed, exchanging a knowing glance before making their way toward the basement door. “We’ll go ahead and start setting up.”

“Thanks, I’ll be down in a sec,” Eddie nodded. When the door closed behind them, he set his plate back down on the counter. “They’re right, you really didn’t have to do all this, sweetheart.”

“Gave me something to do with my day,” You insisted. “You’d better eat some or you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna eat. You’ll be lucky if there are leftovers.” He spared a glance at the basement door before his hands found the counter on either side of you, trapping you between his arms. “Maybe tonight I can come back for dessert?”

“I already made cookies and peach cream puffs–”

He interrupted you with a laugh, “C’mon, now you’re practically setting me up for it.” You shoved at his shoulder, fighting back another smile, and he leaned closer anyway. “How about I just come back to thank you for all your hard work then?”

Tilting your chin up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and replied, “How about you make your plate and eat your food first and I’ll think about it?”

“I’m already on it. I’ll get seconds, too. I’ll get fuckin’ thirds, babe, you’ll see. The way to my heart is through my stomach.”

“Save the theatrics for the game downstairs, hm? They’re waiting on you.”

“You in a hurry to get rid of me or something?” He asked, maybe two-thirds playfully.

“You’re here for Dustin is all,” You shrugged, toying with a loose thread on his Hellfire tee. “He’s expecting you down there and you know how he is, he won’t have any problem asking me questions about what takes us so long when we see each other.”

His thumb rubbed careful circles against your upper arm. “I really think you’re reading too much into it. You’re his big sister looking out for him and I’m the head of his school club, we’ve got plenty of stuff to talk about. Dustin’s not gonna notice if we make conversation for a few minutes whenever we see each other.” His tone grew more joking as he added, “Besides, I seem to remember being owed a certain phone call that I’ve yet to receive.”

“It’s been a week. I can’t sneak you in every night, alright?”

“You would if you could though, right?” He smirked.

Shoving him away, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, Eddie the Banished is now officially banished from my kitchen. Get your food and go downstairs.”

His eyes narrow at you as he started making his plate. Between crunches, he spoke around a mouthful of chips. “You’re a bully, you know that?”

Grabbing a roll of paper towels, you tucked it under his arm for him to take down to the rest of the boys. “Just make sure you all clean up after yourselves and maybe I’ll let you come back over after Dustin goes to Mike’s.”

“You drive a hard bargain, babe.” He stole a quick kiss before making his way toward the basement door. “But you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll try and keep the noise down.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”

When he left about two and a half hours later, he only drove two blocks away, circling around long enough for the younger boys to have ridden their bikes away from the Henderson house. “I could get used to usin’ the front door,” He chimed as he strolled back in. “Think I pulled a muscle squeezing through your window last time.”

Having changed into an old Judas Priest tee and pajama shorts, you were sealing the last few containers of leftovers and putting them in the fridge. “Uh oh, should I start looking for a new dealer?”

“See, that? Mean. So mean.”

“How about I let you go ahead to my room and light the joint sitting on my nightstand? Would I be less mean then?”

He frowned, taking a step in your direction instead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you clean up?”

“I’m already almost done, it’ll just be a minute. Promise.”

“If you say so,” He drawled as he headed down the hall to your room. The door creaked as it closed halfway behind him and he looked around your room yet again. He liked being in here, being surrounded by you. He hoped you wouldn’t find it rude that he opened the drawer he’d seen you keep your incense in, lighting a stick and placing it in the holder. The radio was already turned down low when he turned it on, a cassette of Black Sabbath still inside. Then he cracked open the window, taking off his shoes and jacket afterward.

Holding the joint between his lips, he lit it and tossed the lighter on the bed before continuing to look around. A few necklaces were hooked over the corner of the mirror that hung on your wall. Mascara, rings, and a couple pairs of earrings were left out on your vanity. On your dresser, there was a framed picture of you and Dustin in the Hawkins middle school, your arm around his shoulders as he flaunted a science fair ribbon enthusiastically to the camera. Bottles of lotion and perfume sat beside it and he was obviously lacking a healthy level of self-restraint as he picked one up and popped the cap off to smell it.

He nearly jumped three feet in the air when you spoke up from behind him. “Did you wanna take a pair of panties too or…?”

“Well, if the offer’s on the table–” Still, he had on a sheepish expression as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry, that was probably totally weird of me–”

“Maybe it’s weird of me that I don’t mind,” You shrugged as you took the joint from him and sat cross-legged on your bed. “Thanks for getting everything ready in here. Obviously, I don’t need to tell you to make yourself at home.”

He sat down backward on the chair at your vanity, facing you though his head was tilted toward the floor. “I swear I wasn’t like– actually snooping through anything. I just looked around the room.”

“Eddie, you don’t have to defend yourself. You were smelling perfume that was sitting out, it’s not like you were rifling through drawers. I told you you could be in here by yourself, I wouldn’t have left anything out I wanted kept private. Besides, I trust you.” Leaning forward, you passed him the joint. “And you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

“You really aren’t upset at all?” He looked up at you through his lashes.

“Would you just get in the bed? The house is gonna be empty til at least 11:30 and we’ve still got half a joint. I was thinking of possibly smoking a bowl too.”

Suppressing a smile, he settled into the bed beside you. “So, does that mean I still get the panties?”

You replied by jabbing him in the side with your sock-covered foot, but his fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling your leg across his lap. He traced patterns along the bare skin of your legs as he watched you smoke, occasionally squeezing at your calf or thigh. Feeling a little jittery as the quiet held out, he murmured, “I like your shirt.”

“Thank you, Eds,” You hummed back.

Your little amused smile made his cheeks flush faintly. “Welcome.”

He was flooded with a wave of déjà vu as you crawled into his lap, cupping his jaw to exhale smoke into his mouth. “This feels awful familiar.”

“Well, we’ve got more time than usual.” One hand wandered the expanse of his chest through his shirt as the other placed the dwindling joint between his lips. “I was thinking maybe we could finally finish what we keep starting.”

“You sure we aren’t gonna get interrupted this time?” He asked jokingly.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” You reassured him with a small smile.

“Good.” He drew you closer, “‘Cause I’m thinkin’ we don’t need to go so fast tonight.” Your eyes fluttered closed at the first touch of his lips to your skin, the kisses he left growing sloppier as they moved farther down your neck. A small chill shook his shoulders as your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, caringly gathering his hair into a fluffy bundle and loosely tying it back. So fuckin’ precious. “Thank you, sweetheart. You always think of everything, don’t you?”

“I try.”

Hand cupping the back of your head, his lips molded to yours in a long, slow kiss. As he did, he urged you onto your back, fingers grazing your lips as he settled the joint between them. “That’s enough of that. You don’t have to think anymore tonight. I just wanna take you apart, okay? Make you feel good.” His fingers slipped beneath both your shorts and underwear, gently tugging them past your hips. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks.” The way he pushed your legs back toward your chest had you spread wide for him, your arms rising to cover your face bashfully. Warm hands eased back and forth along the backs of your thighs as he pressed kisses to the delicate skin at the creases of them. “Fuck, you even smell good.”

Eddie actually moaned when he finally tasted you. His tongue soothed over your clit before delving inside you, hands grasping at any part of you he could touch. Meanwhile, your hands were weaving into his hair, further dishevelling his already-messy bun. “Eds,” You breathed.

He briefly pulled back just enough to pant, “Can you take your shirt off? Please? Wanna see you.”

The second you lifted it over your head he was groping at the newly exposed skin, back to burying his face between your thighs. Looking up at you with those big, brown eyes, he zeroed in on your clit. You gasped, “Oh my god, right there.” When he eased his middle finger inside you, curling it to prod at a sensitive spot, you were unable to stifle a squeal.

“I’m just hittin’ all the sweet spots, huh? Pussy was made for me, baby.” Your hand found his free one on the bed, fingers lacing with his as the other remained in his hair. “That’s right, I’ve got you.” A second finger joined the first inside you, spreading you open. Devoting his effort to making you come, his mouth only ever broke away from you to coo the most knee-weakeningly dirty words. Things like, “Want you to come all over my fingers ‘n’ then I’ll stretch you out with my cock, okay? Know you’ve been waitin’ for it.”

“‘M almost there, Eddie, please. Need more.” Distress colored your tone, muscles tensing and un-tensing sporadically. His hand released yours, choosing to drag the pad of his thumb over your nipple instead. The careful pinch he gave afterward made your toes curl.

Feeling your walls squeeze around him, he fractionally sped up the movements of his hand, tongue still tormenting your clit. Quiet gasping moans overpowered the sound of the music as you clutched at the t-shirt covering his shoulders. “That’s my girl, let it out. I’m right here.” He waited until you’d relaxed to gently draw his fingers from you– arms covering your eyes and forehead as you caught your breath, you didn’t see him lick them clean. His palms were warm and slightly rough as they moved over your stomach and sides, “Still with me, sweet thing?”

“Yeah, yeah ‘m here,” You sighed airily. “Just waiting for the stars in my vision to go away.”

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, babe.” His lips made a path up back up your stomach, sloppy kisses and gentle bites ravishing your skin. Instead, you urged him to kiss you before finding the hem of his Hellfire t-shirt to yank it off. Your nails scraped gently over the tattoos on his chest and he shivered, clutching your hips to his. The icy cold metal of his handcuff belt buckle met the heat between your legs, making you gasp into his mouth. You reached down, fumbling to undo the handcuff design. “Easy, baby, lemme do it.”

Standing from the bed, he took his time working his belt and jeans open, eyes slowly raking over you. His lips curved into a subtle smile making your stomach flip. The way Eddie looked at you sometimes was almost overwhelming. You could see the tip of his tongue poke out from the corner of his mouth as he pushed his pants and boxers down, immediately climbing back over you. “Condoms in the nightstand,” You mumbled against the demon head inked on his pec.

He reached over to open the drawer, chuckling at the pre-packed bowl in the corner and grabbing a condom. You surprised him by taking it from him, tearing it open, and pulling him down for another long, slow kiss as you rolled it on for him. Humming as you slowly pulled apart again, he said, “You’re kinda fuckin’ adorable, you know that?”

“Don’t be a dick,” You pouted against his lips.

“You always think I’m teasin’ you and I’m not.” His nose brushed your cheek as he murmured, “Just think you’re the sweetest little thing. Let me appreciate you.”

You tucked your head into the crook of his neck a little bashfully. “Wanna feel you, Eds.”

“I’ve got you, honey, don’t worry.” The first few inches already had you clenching around him as he pressed in. His fingers laced into your hair, gently tugging your head back enough for him to watch your face. “There she is. Doin’ okay, pretty girl?”

“Feels so good,” You breathed out. Your voice sounded strained like your throat was tight. “S’big, Eddie.”

“I know, but you’re takin’ me so good. Doin’ such a good job, baby.” He brushed your hair away from your face as he gazed down at you, his thumb stroking over your temple. “Tell me if you wanna stop.”

Your nose brushed his when you shook your head no, nails digging into his shoulder blades. Eddie gripped your thigh, hitching it over his hip. Eyes closing, you didn’t see the way he watched you as he pulled out nearly completely before pushing back in. He admired how your eyebrows furrowed a little, your lips parting with a reserved moan. You still weren’t letting go.

He was gonna change that.

Forgoing the slow pace he’d been giving you to adjust, sudden quick thrusts of his hips had your eyes opening. You blinked up at him with glassy eyes. Thighs squeezing at his sides, you clung to him. Still supporting himself on one arm, the other snuck between your bodies to find your clit. The broken moan you let out made him smile. “S’that what you needed to make some noise for me? Love hearing you, sweetheart.” He hissed as your nails dragged down his back, but that smile never left his face.

Heat licked up your legs starting from the soles of your feet, your stomach tightening as a second orgasm crept up on you. He could tell when you came again, feeling your walls spasm around him while pitchy whines you couldn’t suppress escaped your throat. “Shit,” He panted out. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. C’n I keep going?”

Nodding, you crossed your ankles behind his back, legs wrapping more comfortably around him and caging him in closer. “Wan’ you to come, Eddie.”

“Jesus, babe, won’t take long if you keep doin’ shit like that.” He kissed you, but your lips fell open against his as his cock ground deeper into you. “God, this pussy’s fucking perfect, baby.” His grunts became pronounced groans as your hands tangled in his hair, hair tie barely hanging on. He gripped your thigh so tight you knew you’d look for fingerprints the next morning. You tugged his lower lip between your teeth and his hips jerked, burying himself as deep inside you as he could when he came.

Neither of you loosened your hold on the other for another minute or two– you just tucked your head into the crook of his neck and let your palms explore the expanse of his back while you both caught your breath. His weight was warm and grounding on top of you, calloused fingertips grazing back and forth along your side.

When you let your head fall back against the pillow you were met with Eddie’s big, warm eyes and soft smile. It was a little flustering, you could only meet his eyes through your lashes. “What?”

But he didn’t answer. He just cradled your face in his hand and delicately molded his lips to yours. It was only after that that he finally pulled out, making your legs twitch around his waist before letting him up. He tied off the condom and threw it away and as he pulled on his boxers, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom? I’ll get some water and get the bowl ready.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” You hummed quietly in response.

“Don’t need to thank me, sweet girl.” He handed you your shirt, watching you pull it on and head for the bathroom before he went to the kitchen.

Finding him back in your bed, bowl and lighter in hand, you didn’t hesitate to crawl in with him. Your back against his chest, he offered it to you and lit it as you took a hit. His arm settled around your waist and your fingers loosely wrapped around it. He took a decent hit for himself and finally spoke again as he breathed out the smoke. “Is everything alright? You’ve been kinda quiet– I can go if you want.”

Your hold on his arm tightened slightly. “No, not at all. Sorry, I’m just kinda…” Searching for the words, your thumb tapped impatiently on his skin and you nuzzled yourself further back into him.

“That’s okay,” He reassured. “I think I get it. Take your time, baby, whatever you need.” You hit the bowl again, letting him hold it for you this time and resting your head against his chest afterward. Eddie looked down at you, your eyes closed as you sighed out smoke, and he was taken aback again by how open you were being with him– how much you were trusting him with. Warmth filled his chest at the realization that you were letting him take care of you.

Over the next few minutes, your head seemed to clear a bit. Taking a drink of water, your eyes finally met Eddie’s again, giving each other a small smile.

“So, I’ve got a proposal for you,” He began.

“I’m listening.”

He passed the bowl back to you, gaze following your movements as he spoke. “I wanna spend time with you. Not just sneaking in to fuck around or stealing a few minutes when we see each other at Hellfire, I mean really spend time with you. Let me take you out to dinner or– or come watch a movie at my place or something.” His nerves rose as he kept talking, seeing your eyelids sink lower as you inhaled a lungful of smoke.

He fidgeted with the chain around his wrist until you breathed out a response. “Okay. It’s a date.”

His face split in a grin, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

part one | finale | tmic masterlist

tags: @adequate-superstar @akiratoro420 @bbciwp @trixyvixx @yujyujj @nope-thanks @broccolisoupy @spookybabey @comboboo @thecraziestcrayon @mommybaby-witch @imvirginia17 @therensistance @peacheskiwi @skyfullofsong123 @hcneyedsstuff @aysheashea @prestinalove @ungracefularchimedes @psychospore @bellaisasleep @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ficsaremylife @ohmeg @twirls827 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sebastiansstanswhore @444aslut444 @ourautumn86 @dream-a-little-nightmare @extrainsanity @poniesandcupcakes @trinuh @cantreadbutcute

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(so tumblr doesn’t eat the end of my fic again)

#too much in common #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader #henderson!reader #18+ mdni #stoner!reader #eddie munson x stoner!reader

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lostfracturess · 17 days

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symptoms and causes | ch. 11

x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)

x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

x wc 13.5 k (enjoy your meal lol)

x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note hey loves!! thank you so much for your patience, i know it's been a while. buckle up, because we're taking another trip inside satoru's mind, so yeahhh. it's gonna be wild, oh and we're continuing right were we left off in the last chapter. this chapter is again in satoru's pov!! i've also updated the trigger warnings, so please take a look before reading (might be spoiling tho). and lastly, credit to the fanart in the cover, if you know the artist, pls let me know!! can't wait to hear what you all think & thanks for sticking with me!! ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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They say before you can love someone else, you have to love yourself first.

And there lies the damn problem.

I don't know how.

Never have.

Why am I thinking this now?

I knew this was right.

Right for her.

But then why does my heart feel like it's being ripped out by the fucking roots?

Suguru will take care of her. He always does. That's the only thing that keeps me from screaming, keeps me from chasing after her.

I trust him, damn it, but it shouldn't be him.

It should be me holding her. Me, who knows how she likes to be held when the panic claws its way up. Me, holding her until the world feels less sharp, less cruel.

Me, who knows that she doesn't want to talk about it. Me, who knows to give her space. She needs space. My strong girl needs space first.

I hope he gives her space.

But he wouldn't know any of this. He couldn't comfort her in the ways I instinctively knew how.

Me, who knows how to soothe the invisible wounds, the ones even she denies exist. Me, who knows the soft words she needs to hear after it passes.

It shouldn't be him.

Sorry.

It shouldn't have been him.

Past tense.

It all might be past tense now.

And the thought is more than I could bear.

Shattered.

Was that the word?

Was there even a word for what I felt in that moment?

How could I ever convey this suffocating agony that's tearing me apart with mere words?

Words are meaningless in the end.

Meaningless when they couldn't be spoken to her, couldn't reach her, couldn't make her understand, couldn't heal the wound I'd carved into her heart.

So, yeah, maybe shattered is the right word.

The wrong word.

The sterile air was acid in my lungs. Each ragged breath felt like sandpaper against my throat. I held my breath, a desperate plea for the world to stop spinning, for the clock to rewind, for a chance to undo everything.

But time doesn't care.

It marched on, relentless, while I stayed trapped in this hell, drowning in the mess I made.

My lungs burned. My vision blurred. I waited until she disappeared. The world seemed to tilt sideways, losing all color and shape, leaving only the sharp, agonizing realization that I'd made her walk away.

I didn't want to breathe anymore.

Not in a world where every breath ached without her.

"Dr. Gojo?" A voice, distant, muffled.

Irrelevant.

My gaze flickered to Sukuna. He watched, a predator savoring the kill.

His twisted smile fueled rage within me. But there would be no fighting this. No grand defense. Not when her life was the bargaining chip.

So, I lied.

Each word a nail in the coffin of the connection I craved more than life itself.

Each word a drop of poison forced down my throat. A self-inflicted wound, a desperate mutilation of the only thing that had ever felt real.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes I loved so fiercely, wide with confusion and horror. The strangled gasp, the way her body went limp in Geto's arms — a haunting image that would forever be etched on my heart.

Muscles screamed, a silent protest against my own pathetic stillness. But I remained frozen.

This was my punishment.

I had to watch her leave, had to sear the pain into my very being, an endless penance for the choices I'd made.

The door clicked shut behind them.

That simple sound, final, absolute.

My lungs filled with air, a betrayal. Oxygen I didn't deserve, didn't want.

My own body, this treacherous thing kept going, kept me alive against my will, kept me tethered to this cruel reality.

The room swam back into focus, the judges' accusing faces nothing but a blurry backdrop. The sounds of their inquest washed over me like meaningless noise.

"Dr. Gojo? Can we continue?"

I nodded.

They pressed on. More questions about the research, her involvement, their accusations of favoritism.

How stupid.

Of course, I favored her.

How could I not?

She is everything.

Oh, sorry. Forgot. Past tense.

She was everything.

Did I regret it?

Did I wish I could go back and treat her with the same damn indifference I afforded everyone else?

Yeah, maybe.

A familiar craving stirred my senses, the desperate need for the numbing escape that would mean failing her even more. My fingers clawed at my forearm, trying to replace the hollowness with physical pain. It wasn't enough.

My responses were rote, mechanical.

Yeah, I favored her.

Yeah, I let her into the OR because of it.

Yeah, and she outshone every damn surgeon twice her age.

No, she didn't know I'd set it up.

No, she never asked for special treatment. She just worked until her eyes were bloodshot, pushing harder than anyone else.

And hell no, she didn't do a single thing wrong.

Except maybe — maybe loving me.

After what felt like an eternity, the judges seemed satisfied, or perhaps just exhausted by my robotic replies.

They painted me the arrogant professor with a weakness for a young student, who abused his power, who played favorites.

Whatever they wanted to believe, fine.

Didn't even have the energy to care anymore.

Let them drag my name through the mud, tarnish the reputation I'd worked so hard to build.

Because the title, the position, the facade of success meant nothing when all I wanted was to rewind time, to undo the damage I'd done to the one person who truly mattered.

I didn't feel anymore.

I was done.

─── ·✧· ───

I burst out of the courtroom.

I needed escape, not just from this sterile prison of a room, but from my own traitorous flesh.

That itch.

It was a wildfire beneath my skin, a thousand insects gnawing their way to the surface. My fingers twitched, claws desperate to tear, to bleed out the poison of this relentless craving.

My legs moved without conscious thought, pushing me towards my office. Somewhere. Anywhere I would be able to breathe again. The guilt was a serrated blade twisting in my gut, each movement slicing me open anew.

Her terror-stricken eyes seared into my very soul.

The walls of my office closed in, the familiar space suddenly too small, too suffocating.

My fist slammed into the desk. Papers scattered to the floor, a meaningless sea of white against the dark wood.

They didn't matter. None of it mattered.

A half-finished coffee mug followed. Porcelain shattered. Dark liquid splashed against the wall.

My blood roared in my ears.

Across the room, my framed diploma. I ripped it off the wall. Glass smashed. Sharp edges bit into my palm, drawing blood. But it wasn't enough. I hurled the frame against the wall.

Blood, hot and slick, coated my hands, the pain nothing.

In the shattered frame, I caught a glimpse of myself — wild eyes in a sweat-slicked face, a man on the verge of collapse.

It was a stranger.

I was across the room before I even registered the decision.

The drawer.

My fingers ripped it open.

There, like a coiled viper, the amber vial gleamed, a venomous promise of oblivion.

Don't —

Don't come at me now.

Did you really think I wouldn't keep a backup?

My hand reached, then hesitated.

The world lurched to a sharp halt as a knock pierced the chaos. My breath hitched, the vial a burning brand in my bloodied hand.

The door creaked open.

And there he was. Sukuna.

He leaned against the doorframe, that sickening smirk plastered on his face. It was like a lit fuse to a powder keg. The rage that had been gnawing at my insides, tearing me apart, finally found its target.

Before a single rational thought could form, I was on him. Fist to jaw, heard the crack, felt it in my knuckles. He stumbled back, the smirk finally wiping off his face.

I pinned him against the door. Forearm across his throat, crushing his windpipe. His eyes widened, but even then, there was that damn flicker of amusement.

"Well, well," he choked out, "this is a nice welcome back."

"Funny to you?"

He coughed, a harsh laugh scraping out of him. "C'mon, Satoru, relax. I did you a favor," he sputtered. "Your precious little student, she's better off now. You know I'm right."

Every muscle in my body tensed.

He was right.

In his twisted way, he was.

And that's what made it all so much worse.

My grip on his throat tightened. But there was nothing, no satisfactio, no release in the violence.

Sukuna saw it, the hesitation. His mouth twisted into a smirk again. "See, you get it. Sweet thing doesn't belong in this mess, does she? It's not for her, Satoru. It's for us."

His words scraped like nails on a chalkboard.

Yes, she was safer now, untouched by the rot that festered within me. Some desperate, logical part of me clung to that. But how could I hold on to that when my heart was screaming for her closeness?

"Or maybe," Sukuna drawled, pushing the knife deeper, "maybe you wanted to see where this goes. Stain her a bit, make her just a little bit more like you."

My breath hitched. For a split second, the floor vanished beneath me.

"Hit a nerve, did I?"

"Shut the hell up!" I couldn't face it, couldn't face the ugly truth as it would tear me apart. "You twist everything. Play with lives just for your own sick amusement."

This was his game.

Sukuna thrived on chaos, on exploiting pain.

He knew my guilt, my fear for her, and wielded it like a scalpel, laying bare the raw nerve of my fragile sanity.

"Perhaps. But ain't I right? You needed to end it, but you lack the guts for it. Waited a bit longer, it'd be a total disaster."

I hesitated, then my grip on him slackened. I stepped back.

"You know I'm right," Sukuna continued. "You know how this would have ended. Suspension. Scandal. She'll be doomed forever for getting involved with her professor for favors. You wouldn't destroy her like that, would you? You're not that cruel."

"I'm not so sure." I ran a hand through my hair. It had taken everything in me to push her away.

But I can't deny that an ugly part of me wanted to keep her close. Drag her down with me.

See her drown.

"Damn, you hit hard," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Go beat up some students again, not me."

"Stop giving me reasons to punch you." Exhausted, I slumped into my desk chair, burying my face in my hands. My head pounded, the infuriating itch worsening with each damn moment. "Was this your plan all along?"

"What?" he scoffed.

I lifted a single eyebrow at him.

"You think that low of me? Honestly, Toru, a bit of credit, please. It was your pathetic indecision that made this entertaining. You basically gift-wrapped this mess and handed it to me."

"Besides," he continued, "let's be honest, you were holding her back. Now maybe she'll have a chance to become someone who might surpass you one day. You wouldn't deny her that, would you? No thanks needed."

He was right, and I hated that more than anything.

Sukuna sank into the chair across from me, a picture of smug satisfaction despite the visible bruise. "Damn, that punch still stings."

I opened my desk drawer and wordlessly tossed him the bottle of opioids. His eyes widened in surprise, before he gave the bottle a knowing shake. "Still on the hydromorphone?"

I didn't answer. The sound alone threatened to shatter what fragile control I had left. The itch was unbearable, each nerve ending screaming for relief.

Sukuna observed me, a predator watching its prey struggle. "Withdrawal never suited you," he said, popping a pill. "You always get so—" he paused, savoring the word, "—tense."

"Yeah, real supportive of you."

"Actually, I'm being incredibly supportive. I'm leaving for a little research trip overseas—four months. Ethics committee can't meet without me, so—" He leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Gives you time to get your shit together. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Shut the hell up."

"C'mon, I put in a good word for you too. No suspension for now. You can keep teaching, just no surgeries. Yaga really hates my guts, doesn't he? But hey, at least you're not totally screwed."

"You expect a thank you?"

"Relax, Toru, the show's over," he said. "Trust me, they don't want a scandal, let alone lose their star surgeon. When I get back, a slap on the wrist, maybe a semester's suspension, then you're back to the boring old grind."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Last I checked, you were the one pushing for a scandal."

He rolled his eyes. "Someone had to do it. Knew you'd drag this out forever, playing the tragic hero. Needed a villain to get things moving." He gave a mocking bow. "At your service, my friend."

"Also," he continued, leaning forward in his chair, "the focus is off you now. The committee's sniffing around those implant engineers. Funny, isn't it?"

Sukuna paused, savoring the moment. "Honestly, never thought there was anything wrong with your surgeries. You wouldn't make that kind of mistake. Tech malfunction more likely."

Of course.

The bastard never doubted the damn research. It had all been a game to him — my career, my sanity, her — just pieces on his chessboard.

It should've made me furious, lash out, pound his face in again — but all I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion, a weariness that seeped into my very soul. I was too tired, too hollowed-out to do anything but swallow the bitter truth.

"That supposed to make me feel better?"

"A little," he said, tossing the opioid bottle back. "This, though? That'll do the trick even better."

I caught it, my fingers clenching around the plastic.

He rose, stretching with a theatrical sigh. "Well, time to go. Remember, you owe me big time. You should take one," he gestured towards the pills, "you look like shit."

My grip on the bottle tightened. I looked up at him. "When all of this is done, I never want to see your damn face again."

He laughed. "We both know that's a lie. You and me? We need each other."

"The only thing you need is some damn therapy."

"Ah, Toru," he dismissed me with a smirk, "you'll come crawling back soon enough. We both know how this works."

With that, he was gone. I was left alone in the echoing silence, the pill bottle a burning weight in my hand. The world seemed to sway around me, my eyelids growing heavy.

The will to fight simply wasn't there anymore.

─── ·✧· ───

Cruel.

Cruel how one little pill can undo everything.

Cruel how one little pill can silence everything.

Cruel how one damn pill can soften the world, make it — bearable, almost.

Unfair.

It's truly unfair.

The screaming under my skin, that relentless itch — it's still there, but it had dulled to a faint hum, pushed back by the familiar numbness.

Finally.

Oh, finally some fucking silence.

I let out a shaky breath. It wasn't peace, not really. I knew that all too well. Borrowed time, each second ticking closer to the inevitable crash, the return of that relentless screaming in my head.

But for now, it'll have to be enough.

I collapsed on the couch, smoke curling lazily before my eyes.

I knew I shouldn't mix opioids with cannabis. That's something they teach you within the first year of university. What I used to teach students within the first year of university.

What a hypocrite I am really.

Another drag — harsh, burning down my throat.

The urge to close my eyes, to sink into oblivion, was almost overwhelming. But sleep wouldn't bring respite. Only nightmares. I knew that only too well.

So, I lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

It really came down to me failing again, huh?

What was it now?

Attempt number five?

Six?

I started losing count.

Maybe this was my fate.

A broken record, stuck on the same damn track.

Deep down, under the chemical haze, guilt gnawed at me. It was a dull ache now, no longer the searing pain of earlier, but a constant, insidious reminder.

She were out there, her life forever marked by my choices, while I was — here. Hiding in a haze of pills and smoke.

God, I hoped Suguru was looking after her. Making sure she ate, making sure she was safe — that she didn't hate me too much.

I brought the joint to my lips again, the smoke curling up towards the ceiling. It left an acrid taste in my mouth.

I watched my hand for a second.

Bloodied earlier, the wounds had scabbed over, the blood dried. It was perfectly still now, the trembling smoothed out by the chemicals in my blood.

I clenched it into a fist, then unclenched, watching the movement like it belonged to someone else.

Traitor.

This body was a traitor — betrayed myself, betrayed her, betrayed everything I held dear.

Weak.

Broken.

A pathetic mess.

Was that it?

Living as a slave to these chemicals to patch up my crumbling sanity one day at a time?

Chained to pills, each dawn a ticking clock until the next dose, until I could silence the screaming for a few damn hours?

My eyes locked onto the half-empty vial on the table.

Took too many, didn't I?

I knew that, even through the haze. But a cold certainty twisted in my gut. There'd be more. Always more. Until there was nothing left.

Before I could think, I threw another down my throat. Bad idea, probably, after a few clean days.

Suddenly, the haze warped, twisting into nausea. Bile rose in my throat.

I lurched to my feet, the world tilting precariously with each step. Surfaces rippled, the bathroom light stabbing into my skull.

I barely made it. My stomach heaved. Each retch wracked my body, leaving me gasping, weak.

Too many.

Way too many.

How the hell did I forget? Forget my body's limits? Somehow, I felt like some reckless student again, stumbling through experiments, blind to the consequences.

Stupid. So damn stupid.

Darkness swam at the edges of my vision. Another wave of nausea, and I was back, hunched over the toilet.

I hauled myself up, hands shaking, clinging to the sink. In the mirror, a stranger stared back. Eyes bloodshot, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.

This wasn't me anymore.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the acid burn. Didn't help. Drops of water ran down my face, felt like they were melting the damn skin off.

My knees buckled. I slid down the wall, my head heavy against the tile wall.

The bathroom light, needles in my brain moments ago, seemed impossibly distant now. Each breath was a ragged gasp, each pulse a dull throb in my temples.

I waited for it to pass, the nausea, the haze. But as minutes crawled by, a new, searing pain gnawed at me.

My fingers trembled against my abdomen, pressing into the tender spot. Liver, of course.

Wrecked it, just like the rest of me. I'd known the risks, had ignored the warnings, and now my body was demanding payment.

How pathetic.

Darkness gnawed at the edges of my vision, pushing back against the stubborn spots of light. My head felt heavy, detached from my body. Arms and legs useless.

Each breath a battle I wasn't sure I'd win.

Time warped. Stretching, then snapping, leaving me floating in nausea and pain. Then I heard something — muffled, distant. Footsteps, getting closer.

My eyes struggled to make sense of the shifting shadows.

Then, a voice. Soft, achingly familiar. I couldn't make out the words, but the warmth of it—

I knew that voice — would always recognize it.

Cold water hit my skin. Hands, gentle, but firm, on my face. I strained to focus, to see her, to soak in the sight I needed, yet feared more than anything.

Oh, how desperately I needed to see her. Needed her to be real.

But my eyes betrayed me.

She must be so beautiful. She always was.

Then, a touch on my outstretched leg, a flash of metal — was that a scalpel?

Agony ripped through me, shattering the haze. I jerked back, my scream ragged against the tiles. My head slammed back with sickening force.

Before I knew it, a needle pierced my skin.

The room spun as whatever she'd injected battled the comfortable blur of the pills. Nausea churned in my stomach, the numbness receding with terrifying speed.

Groaning, I shifted on the floor.

My vision sharpened, my senses returning with brutal clarity.

The first thing I noticed was the metallic glint of the discarded syringe beside my leg.

Then the cut, a ragged gash through the fabric of my dress pants where she'd stabbed the needle in — the unnecessarily deep and brutal cut — but in the chaos, I let it slide. Didn't even register the pain as I watched the blood drain from the cut.

I reached for the syringe and read the label.

Adrenaline.

Smart girl.

But as I turned it over, a frown creased my brow. Two fucking milliliters? Was she trying to give me a damn heart attack?

I lifted my head, the question burning on my tongue. But the words died unspoken as my gaze locked on hers.

She stood there, just a few feet away, her breath ragged, her eyes — those pretty eyes.

Terror.

There was raw, unadulterated terror etched in her eyes. But I was right. She looked as beautiful as ever. Even with those terror-stricken eyes she was breathtaking.

She stumbled back, slumping against the wall opposite of me with a choked gasp, pulling her knees up. I didn't move, couldn't move, my gaze locked with hers.

The terror faded slowly, replaced by a weariness that was far worse.

For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of that familiar defiance, the spark I both loved and feared. But even that felt strangely muted now, as if even the energy to fight had been drained out of her.

She simply watched me. In silence, in that devastating silence.

How I hated her silence.

Because her silence was far worse than anything she could have screamed, any insult she could have hurled my way. Her stillness, her silence, was the most terrifying weapon she'd ever wielded against me.

And for the first time in a very long time, I was truly afraid.

Time stretched, then I choked out, "You're angry."

Her answer was blunt, devoid of emotion. "Oh really? What makes you think that?"

I glanced down. Blood still seeped from the gash in my leg. With a trembling hand, I fumbled for a towel and pressed it against the wound. "Your cut is kinda deep. Was that on purpose?"

She didn't say anything.

It probably was on purpose.

My gaze fell on the syringe. "Where'd you get that?"

"What happened to your hand?"

"I asked first."

"Don't try to play games now, Satoru. You're walking on thin fucking ice," she snapped.

"Shattered some glass," I said after a pause ", and punched Sukuna."

"Stole it from the hospital."

"What?"

"You think I'd date an addict and not have adrenaline on hand?"

My lips twitched into a weary smile. Oh my beautiful, brilliant girl, always prepared.

"But you know, two milliliters is a bit much." I moved my leg slightly to check if she had cut any tendons, which would complicate the healing a bit. "Or are you trying to kill me?"

Her gaze pierced me, colder than any scalpel. "Looks like you're doing a fine job of that yourself."

My smile faded.

Silence.

Oh, that cruel silence again.

She didn't say anything. Maybe I should be thankful for that, because if she said anything now, I'd probably crumble completely — if I haven't already.

Ironic, wasn't it?

How much power this woman had over me.

Yet it was me who destroyed her.

She dropped her head, ran a shaking hand through her hair, then looked at me again. "How much did you take?"

Huh?

Why would she ask that?

Didn't she see that it's over?

That I'm too far gone?

It was unbearable.

It was unbearable, how she could still look at me and see someone worth saving. It was unbearable, knowing she believed in me even when I didn't.

Almost pissed me off, how stubbornly she clung to that stupid hope. Because seeing that hope in her eyes — it made me hate myself even more.

I wouldn't change, couldn't. Not for her, not for anyone.

"Doesn't matter. It's over."

"Satoru, please," she choked out, pain raw in her voice, the pain I caused, "cut the crap and tell me. Now."

"It doesn't matter," I repeated, my voice cold. I couldn't bear the flicker of hope, couldn't bear to fail her yet again.

Then, the first tear rolled down her cheek and my heart shattered, the fragments piercing me from within.

I'd never wanted to be the reason those beautiful eyes filled with pain, the reason her sweet lips trembled. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull her close, erase the hurt I'd caused.

I would have given anything, sacrificed anything, if only I could make it stop.

But I couldn't.

Because I was the problem. I was the poison.

She buried her face in her hands. "I'm tired, Satoru."

"I know."

"I'm so fucking tired," she whispered through tears.

"I know, love."

My eyes burned as I watched her fragile body shudder. Each sob of her driving a stake deeper into my already bleeding heart. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

I hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself because — because I was the reason for all of this.

She'd never wanted this, never wanted to fall in love with me to begin with, but I dragged her into it anyway.

Because I was selfish.

Knew how it would end.

And now, I could only watch — only watch in this unbearable silence as the woman I loved wept over the man I hated.

"It's for the best, believe me—"

"No," she cut me off. "You're sacrificing me for this—this reputation of mine you think matters. It doesn't. I don't want any of it without you. I don't want a future where you're not in it."

She looked up then, eyes red and filled with unshed tears. "Because I love you, Satoru."

What?

The words turned my blood to ice.

After everything — the lies, the ways I'd hurt her, the desperate attempts to push her away — there it was, the confession I'd craved and feared in equal measure.

My heart was being ripped apart and stitched back together again in that very moment — vulnerable and yet so unbearably full.

She loved me, she said it.

She loves me.

And I love her.

God, how I loved her. More than I thought possible.

I've never once loved in my entire life.

Not until her.

Not until she changed me completely.

What is that, anyway? Love?

How can I possible describe the type of feeling I feel when I'm with her? How can I ever convey the words when they are not even clear to me?

How cruel it is. How utterly cruel the type of feeling is, that she makes me feel.

Because how could I ever live without it.

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

How to live.

How could I ever go back to what I was before her — was there even something before her?

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

With her.

For her.

Because she is the air that fills my lungs.

The pulse that keeps me alive.

And nothing can ever change that. So how could I ever go back to what I was before?

Oh, how she tortures me, tortures me with feelings I rather not feel, tortures me with her love that I deserve so little.

Nothing.

I deserve nothing and yet she gives me everything.

Why can't I give it back? What chains me, binds this rotten heart? Why does it fail me so cruelly to love her the way she deserves?

Because she does.

She deserves everything.

She is everything.

Yet there is only my own failure in loving her. I'm failing her again and again. I hurt her again and again. I hate myself, hate myself for the pain I cause her.

Still—

How can I let her go, when she's the only good thing in my life?

It is selfish, selfish to say the least, to want to keep her close when all I do is fail her.

Her tears were molten iron searing my insides. But I clench my jaw, refusing to let them break me. If she saw weakness, she might hesitate. Might stay and continue to be broken by me.

Every fiber of my being wanted nothing more than to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her it would all be okay.

More lies for a heart that deserved nothing but the truth. So I swallowed down the love threatening to spill from my lips.

I would give her anything, my life, the last shreds of my sanity — except the one thing she asked for, the only thing she ever ask for.

Because loving her, truly loving her, meant letting her go. Even if it destroys me.

"I spare you," I rasped.

"No." She slowly shook her head. "You're killing me. Can't you see?" There was a cold edge in her voice now. "You're killing me."

"I can't change. Love isn't enough. I can't stop."

"You're the only one who thinks that." Her reply held a flicker of her old, beautiful defiance, a defiance I loved so dearly. "I'd follow you anywhere, Satoru. Even if you can't get clean, then so be it. I don't care. I won't leave you."

The sincerity in her voice was a blow, a beautiful, terrible blow. Complete, unwavering acceptance of who I was, in all my brokenness.

And in that moment, I finally realized.

It wasn't about saving her. It was about saving myself from the terrifying vulnerability her love demanded. From the weakness that threatened to drown me if I let her in.

Perhaps I'm just a coward after all.

My heart was too damn small, too messed up. Of course I had to push her out, deny her the love she offered so freely — because it terrified me.

Her love terrified me.

"I can't do this to you," I choked out, the words scraping my throat raw. "You deserve—" I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. "You deserve better."

"Better?" She leaned forward slightly. "You are my better."

Oh, love, that's not true.

You are my better. I'm your worst.

I wanted to say that, should've said that.

But I remained silent, unable to say anything.

"Say something, Satoru."

I couldn't, simply couldn't. Because mere words were too hollow, too insignificant against the depth of her pain.

"Say something, damn it!"

"It will get easier someday," I chocked out. Each word felt like a stone I was forcing down my own throat. Each word empty — we both knew it.

"Is that what you hope for?"

"I have to."

She closed her mouth. Her silence more devastating than any scream. She didn't explode, as I half-expected. Instead, she straightened, her movements slow, weary.

I watched her, unable to move, unable to look away, as a horrifying realization bloomed across her face. It wasn't anger, wasn't sadness — it was a terrible understanding.

She knew. She always knew.

Perhaps that's what I hated about her the most.

"That's it?" she asked.

"That's it."

She watched me. Not in anger, but with chilling detachment. Her eyes, usually so filled with warmth, were now as distant as those of a stranger.

Still, I burned the image into my soul, knowing it might be the last time.

Then, without another word, she turned. And walked away.

When she finally disappeared from sight, a wave of crushing despair washed over me. It wasn't just the loneliness. It was the terrifying certainty that there was no going back from this.

I had destroyed the best thing in my life — a sacrifice she didn't even ask for.

But then again, my sacrifice is really only an illusion after all, masking a desperate, terrified selfishness.

Because I'm selfish.

I do love her. Gods, how I love her.

But my fear was stronger.

And I was too damn weak to fight it.

─── ·✧· ───

Four weeks.

Was it four weeks?

I can't remember.

Time — it didn't tick or flow anymore.

It was a shapeless thing. Punctuated only by the empty thump of my heart in this wrecked chest.

Those first days — or weeks, who knows? — they melted together in a haze. After she left, I was — raw. One giant exposed nerve.

Each damn breath without the pills felt like scraping sandpaper across it, a reminder of what I'd lost — no, what I'd destroyed.

So I was barely sober.

My body didn't even protest. At first, it was almost — nice? The rush, the way it wiped out not just the pain but any thought at all.

But the crash was always brutal. Mornings, if you could even call it that, I'd wake up shaking, sick to my stomach, and terrified of — what was I even terrified of? Somehow of everything and nothing at all. But I knew the fix for that.

It was a sick, relentless cycle.

The phone rang, vibrated with messages. Suguru mostly. His messages growing more urgent with each unanswered text. Liver issues. Treatment. Something about irreversible damage.

It was all white noise compared to the screaming in my head.

Her name, though, cut through the haze.

There were nights — or was it days? — when a desperate, clawing need to hear her voice, to see her face, would rise up in me. I'd reach for the phone, fingers hovering above her name. Then the fear would crush that impulse.

I knew that reaching out to her would be the final act of cruelty.

So I stumbled on, each day collapsing into the next.

Until the next semester started and I remembered I had an actual job.

─── ·✧· ───

I stood in the corridor outside the auditorium.

My fingers fumbled with the familiar pill bottle. Just enough to numb the edge, get me through the lecture. With a bitter swallow, I tilted the pill into my palm, chasing it down dry.

Four weeks. Four weeks of barely holding it together, four weeks since I almost OD'd, four weeks since she left, and the weight of it all threatened to crush me at any moment.

Yet, muscle memory took over.

I limped slightly as I walked into the auditorium. My leg still hurt after she basically cut my muscle in half.

She definitely did that on purpose. She was too smart not to not know what she was doing.

The usual chatter died down when I walked in. Old routine. Time for the performance. Pretend I'm the professor, pretend like this whole thing isn't ripping me apart, piece by piece. It should have been comforting.

Once, perhaps, it was.

Wordlessly, I grabbed a marker, scrawled my name on the board. Like they didn't already know who I was, right?

Everyone on campus knows, especially after this summer's mess.

With a sigh, I turned towards the class.

And there she was.

My breath hitched, the marker clattering to the floor. My lips parted, but no words came.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Second-year lecture.

How the hell could I forget that?

She was here, after everything, right in front of me. The pain of the past weeks, that suffocating emptiness — it all melted away, replaced by a pounding headache in that one instant.

My eyes clung to her, unable to look away, drinking in the sight of her. That stubborn tilt of her head, the pain in those beautiful eyes — God, how I'd missed her.

Yet with every beat of my yearning heart came a fresh wave of guilt. I longed to reach out, to apologize, to tell her how much I'd missed her.

But I knew it was wrong.

Then, it hit me. Every eye in the room was on her, following my gaze like a spotlight burning into her. Damn it.

Still, she didn't flinch.

Endured it like she has always endured everything.

Clearing my throat, I managed to speak as I adverted my gaze. "So, uh, let's start the lecture."

My voice echoed in the now tense auditorium, words tumbling out in a forced attempt at normalcy. The lecture blurred. My own words were just noise in my head. I pushed through the lecture. Don't even remember what I lectured about.

It was routine, should have been easy, but — not with her there. Never with her.

Every damn minute, my eyes flicked towards her, drawn like a magnet. I couldn't help it. Because all I could see was her. But she avoided my gaze.

Should've expected that.

Shouldn't make me angry, right?

Still did.

Finally, thank god, the bell rang.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

I remained behind my desk and gathered my notes. Students surged towards the exit, a faceless blur of motion. My traitorous gaze remained locked on her as the auditorium slowly emptied.

She and her friends passed by me. Before I could even think, the words tumbled out, "Wait, not—not you, first-year."

Silence.

Her friend's chatter halted abruptly. I hadn't meant to say it, hadn't thought before the desperate need to speak to her had short-circuited my brain.

Now, it was done.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, met mine. For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Her friends exchanged glances. I could feel Zenin glaring daggers at me, didn't even need to look. She'd always been fiercely protective.

"I'll catch up later," she said then to her friends, a strained smile plastered on her face.

They left, leaving us alone in the vast, suddenly suffocating auditorium.

Silence again.

My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I feared she could hear it.

Finally, she spoke. "You know I'm not a first-year anymore."

I rounded the desk, the wood rough against my fingertips. "Yeah, right. Sorry." Leaning against it, I crossed my arms.

"Didn't you get suspended?"

"They postponed it."

She watched me for a moment, those beautiful eyes drilling into me. Her eyes held a coldness I've never seen before. For a sickening moment, I thought I might throw up.

"How are you?"

"Don't," she snapped. "Don't ask me that. Don't you dare pretend to care after—"

She stopped herself, the silence louder than any accusation. After everything you did. After you pushed me away. After you nearly killed yourself.

She didn't need to voice it.

My hands clenched into fists against the edge of my desk, nails digging into my palms in a futile attempt to ground myself. Needed to maintain this thin illusion of control.

I do care. Dammit, I care more than you'll ever know.

I wanted to scream it, to tear open my chest and show her the bleeding wound she'd left behind. But the words stuck in my throat.

Pointless now, anyway.

Knuckles turned white, nails digging deeper.

She stepped closer. Her hand darted into her bag, then shot out, palm open. Keys glinted in the harsh light — the keys to my apartment.

I watched them for a second. Should've expected that. Shouldn't hurt me. Still did.

"You don't have to return them. I want you to keep them."

"Why? I won't need them anymore, will I? Or are you planning on overdosing again?"

Each word was acid on an open wound.

I deserved this, the anger, the contempt, it was all on me. But why the hell did it make me so fucking angry?

"Have you ever thought about how I felt when I found you?" she snapped, her voice rising. "How terrified I was when you wouldn't respond? When you couldn't even recognize me? When I thought you'd die on me?" She took a shaky breath. "Fuck Satoru, I held your face in my hands while you were barely breathing!"

I tried to speak, but she cut me off. "Don't. You. Dare."

"Four weeks," she went on, her voice sharp, laced with a fury that cut to the bone. "Four weeks of silence. Ever think I might be drowning, haunted by what I saw? Or were you too busy numbing yourself with pills? Hell, I didn't even know if you'd overdosed for good this time!"

Her words hit me cold, but they weren't the storm tearing me apart. It was the image of her, terrified, holding my barely-alive body, that ripped my insides out.

Those eyes — her eyes filled with a terror that was all because of me. The guilt choked me. Seeing my near-death through her haunted eyes is twisted a knife in my gut.

It was the look of someone who'd had a piece of her soul ripped out.

It was the look of someone who loved me.

"But then again, you never cared about me, did you?" she added, the raw hurt bleeding beneath the anger.

My stomach twisted. "Don't you dare say that," I rasped, the words ripping from my throat. "I care so much it damn near killed me. You were the only thing keeping me alive, the only reason I fought at all! Don't you dare say I don't—" I choked, the pain unbearable.

The room seemed to tilt, my anger threatening to consume me.

I took a step towards her, closing the distance in one move. We were so close, I could smell her damn shampoo. "Every damn thing I did, every stupid decision—it was all because I care about you too much."

Her eyes widened. But only for a second. Then, that cold defiance was back, and it cut deep.

"You're really pathetic, you know that?" she spat. "You talk about caring, but in the end you threw everything away. Because you are too terrified to let yourself love me. Because apparently your own damn peace is worth more than me."

Her words were knives, finding their mark with cruel efficiency.

"Shut up," I whispered. "You know nothing."

"Oh really?" She glared at me, "then let me paint the picture for you—the minute things got difficult, the second you had to face actual consequences for your actions, you used it as an excuse to back away. Shut yourself down."

She moved closer still. "Convenient, wasn't it? Pushing me away, destroying us—it absolved you from having to confront anything real."

Her accusations hit uncomfortably close to home.

And I didn't want to hear it from her lips.

Not from hers.

"Shut up," I growled.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up," she snapped back, her voice rising. "You don't get to play the victim here. You did this. You ruined everything."

Fury ignited, not at her, but at myself.

Blindly, I reached out, my fingers gripping her jaw so tight it bordered on violence. I forced her to look at me, my eyes burning into hers. "Shut up, or I swear to god, I'll make you."

Her chin lifted, eyes narrowing. "I dare you."

The words set me on fire. Every rational thought, every vestige of self-preservation was devoured by a sudden, desperate need. My gaze fell to her lips, slightly parted, a vulnerable target I craved to claim.

Without even thinking, my hand went to her waist, fingers digging in as I pulled her impossibly close. My other hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head back. Our eyes locked, some kind of messed-up challenge.

I could feel her rapid breaths on my skin, smell that damn perfume of hers that I'd always loved, but now was driving me to the edge of control. Her heart pounding against mine.

Everything in me screamed to close the distance, claim those lips that had haunted me, haunted me for weeks.

I wanted to claim her, to silence her, to lose myself in her, but my last shred of sanity held me back.

Because pushing her further into my nightmare was the ultimate act of cruelty.

"Uncomfortable, isn't it? Getting confronted with the ugly truth?" she whispered against my lips.

My grip on her tightened. She really didn't know when to stop, or maybe she simply wanted to watch me burn. Perhaps both.

"Don't push me."

"Why? Scared of what you'll find if you let yourself be honest for once?" Her head tilted. Her gaze was fire, and I was already ash. "You run, Satoru. From everything, but most of all, from yourself."

"And that," she leaned closer, almost brushing my lips, "is what makes you the most pathetic person I know."

Oh, she could be so viciously cruel when she wanted to. So disgustingly cruel. It was one of the things I'd fallen hopelessly in love with. Even now, as it tore me apart, I still loved it.

But I also wanted nothing more than to fuck that attitude out of her right then and there.

"You're right. You're always right. Maybe that's what's terrifies me about you so much."

"You're not terrified of me," she whispered. "You're terrified of yourself."

The air between us crackled. Every rational thought in my brain begged me to stop. Still, I couldn't resist. I inched closer, helpless against the force that binds and burns us both.

My hands tightened their hold as I took a sharp inhale. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling.

Our lips hovered, almost touching, two aching souls suspended in that impossible space. So much unspoken words, so much hurt, and the destructive pull between us that had always tethered us together.

Then, the auditorium door creaked open.

Her head snapped towards the sound. But I couldn't look away, wouldn't miss a second of her. Because this, right here, was all I had left.

Had to be Suguru anyway — anyone else would be screaming their heads off by now.

After a pause, she turned back at me. "You know, I'm still waiting."

"For what, love?"

"For it to get easier."

I looked at her, the woman I loved, and guilt clawed at my insides. That hurt, that anger on her face — I deserved it all. Because it was the consequence of the pain I'd caused.

"You said it would get easier," she added.

It was a lie. Nothing about this was easy. Nothing ever would be again. Suddenly, the room felt too small, the air thick and unbreathable.

"I don't know if it ever will."

Perhaps I was only meant to love her in silence.

In distance.

Because at least then I couldn't hurt her anymore.

Suguru cleared his throat. He stepped into the room, breaking the moment.

Reluctantly, I let go of her. She stepped back, eyes holding mine for a second, something flickering there that I didn't dare try to read. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

I watched her go.

Suguru approached me, stopping close by. He didn't say anything.

I leaned against the desk, running a hand through my hair. The adrenaline from that almost-kiss crashed, leaving behind a hollow ache.

The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed in the empty auditorium, way too loud.

Suguru's hand landed on my shoulder.

"You really have a thing for bad timing," I muttered.

"Bad timing," he echoed, "or good timing to stop you from doing something stupid?"

I didn't answer. The memory of her, so close, choked every thought out of my mind.

"You know it was the right thing to do. With everything going on, letting her go was the right decision."

"I know," I said, pushing off the desk and rounding it to gather my things. I couldn't meet his gaze. "I'm trying to remember that."

Suguru then started placing pill bottles on the desk with a serious expression. The first clink of plastic on wood cut through the silence.

"Prednisone for the liver inflammation." Another bottle. "Lactulose for the hepatic encephalopathy." Then another. "Vitamin B and K for the nutritional deficiencies."

"But you know the first step would be to—" he paused for a second then placed another two bottles in from of me. "Methadone, to manage the withdrawal and craving. And Naltrexone, to block the euphoric effects of your opioids."

Hesitantly, another bottle appeared. "Clonidine, in case you feel like you're dying."

"Suguru—" I began, but he cut me off.

"Satoru, you have to get clean. The pills won't do a damn thing if you keep wrecking your liver."

"Yeah, it's a little late for that, don't you think? It's the only thing keeping me sane right now."

He sighed. "You're the absolute worst patient ever."

"Aw, come on, I thought you liked a bit of challenge. You're the best doctor, you'll figure something out." I rummaged through my bag, pulling out a folder.

"Even the best doctor on earth can't help if you don't—"

I shoved the folder across the desk, cutting him off. "What's this?"

"It's a patient. An anyeurism. I'm still not allowed to do surgery, not until this thing with the ethics committee is over."

Suguru opened the folder, flipping through the pages. "You want me to do it? Is there something special about this patient?"

"I want you to take her with you," I said quietly. "She likes aneurysm clippings."

Suguru looked up, that familiar crease between his brows. "She'll figure it out. Sooner or later. Latest when you're in the hospital waiting for a liver transplant, not lecturing anymore."

Silence stretched. My eyes fell on the pill bottles lined up on the desk.

I sighed, then gathered them and crammed them into my bag. "Let's go. I need fresh fair," I said as I brushed past him, putting the withdrawal meds back into his hands.

Without another word, I left the auditorium.

─── ·✧· ───

My eyes snapped open.

I sat upright, a strangled gasp tearing from my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat threatening to burst right out of my chest.

For a disorienting second, the world was a blur. Sweat drenched my skin. My lungs screamed for air.

Damn nightmares.

Another night of that shit.

I clutched at my chest, trying to quell the frantic pounding. Cold sweat made my shirt cling to my skin. The room spun. My pulse thundered in my ears.

I fumbled for the lamp, the sudden brightness stinging my eyes. But it didn't chase away the image seared into my brain. Her face, cruel, beautiful, cruelly beautiful, twisted in absolute terror. My stomach twisted.

My fault.

Always my fault.

I couldn't breathe right.

Sleep was a lost cause now. First decent rest in a week, and my brain decided to torment me again. Exhaustion was its own kind of hell, but it was nothing compared to this. That, more than anything, was the real torture.

I slumped forward, scrubbing a hand over my face.

I'd hurt her.

I'd hurt her, the one person who meant something.

Every day, it felt more like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. Letting her go, pushing her away, I—

I hated myself.

Hated the way I ruined everything.

Hated the way I ruined every chance at something good.

It was like a damn curse.

Nothing good ever lasted for me. I should've known that by now.

Damn it, I knew it was wrong. But how the hell could it be wrong when it'd felt so damn right? When she was the only thing, the only person, that cut through the crap, made this whole mess seem like it might have some sort of meaning?

How could that possibly be wrong?

Guilt ate at my insides. Had I been a damn coward? Too scared to fight for something that made me feel, really feel?

Perhaps.

Easier to push her away, sabotage the whole damn thing, than risk actually letting her in. Letting anyone in. Losing control. But it didn't matter now, did it?

It was over.

I needed out. Out of my head, out of this apartment, out of my own damn skin.

The silence was unbearable.

I pushed off the bed, muscles screaming in protest. I slipped into running clothes, the routine automatic. As I laced up my shoes, a sharp sting shot through my leg from the still-healing cut on my leg.

That bitch.

The more I thought about it, the more sure I was she'd done it on purpose.

Good thing I was addicted to painkillers, huh?

I drowned a pill — no two, for good measure — before stepping outside into the pre-dawn chill.

Cold autumn air bit at my skin. Each step echoed on the empty street. The pills kicked in, dulling the sharp pain in my leg. Good. Long as the cut didn't split open, I didn't damn care.

I pushed myself, needing the burn in my muscles, the ache in my lungs, to drown out the constant echo of her voice, her name, in my head.

The world blurred. Streetlights, shadows, it all melded together. The only reality was the ache in my body, the cold air forcing its way into my lungs. My mind, for once, was mercifully blank.

No nightmares, no guilt, no memories of her haunted eyes — just the simple focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

I didn't set a goal, didn't choose a destination.

Just moving, pushing, escaping.

Sweat dripped, but I barely registered. With each mile, the crushing weight eased. Not gone, hell, not even close to forgotten, but — manageable.

I ran until the city was a smear of lights, until my legs burned and my lungs screamed.

Finally, gasping for breath, legs threatening to give out, I stumbled to a halt. The neon lights of a Seven Eleven cut through the pre-dawn darkness. My throat was sandpaper. I pushed through the door.

Inside, the harsh lights stung my eyes. I grabbed a water, my body on autopilot as I shuffled toward the register. The bored-looking teenager behind the counter gave me a sidelong look as I fumbled for my wallet.

"Rough night?"

"Something like that." I glanced down at my leg, the still-healing cut a visible red line. Wincing, I shifted my weight, favoring the uninjured side.

I pulled out my card to pay, but then a flash of color caught my eye. Beside the cashier's register, stacked in a gaudy pyramid, was a display of energy drinks. I starred at them for a second, the name oddly familiar.

I knew why the name was so familiar.

I reached for a can and placed it on the counter. "And this."

Outside, I downed the water in a matter of seconds. Then, I cracked open the energy drink. The first sip hit my tongue. Surprisingly, it didn't taste half-bad without a shot of stale coffee to ruin it.

But the taste wasn't the problem, wasn't it?

Memories flooded back. Her, hunched over a massive anatomy textbook in the dim library, those beautiful eyes ringed with exhaustion. Beside her, half-empty, a mug of coffee — spiked with the sickeningly sweet energy drink I currently held.

Just the thought of that awful mixture made my stomach turn.

Still, a smile tugged at my lips.

Dammit, I didn't want to think about her. But to be fair, thinking, not thinking — it was all the same. The dull, constant ache of her absence throbbed beneath it all.

I chugged the rest of the energy drink, crushing the can in my hand.

Ah, fuck it.

Before my sanity could interfere, my legs were in motion.

I knew this was wrong. Knew every step took me closer to more pain. Knew all along this was stupid, reckless — inevitable.

I couldn't stop.

The pull towards her was too damn strong. I needed to see her, to confirm her existence, to know she was real, to fix — what? What the hell could I fix? What the hell did I even think I was doing?

Finally, gasping for breath, I stumbled to a halt outside her apartment building.

A glance at my watch confirmed the hour — well past 3 am. Insane. I hadn't expected her to be awake. Just needed the pathetic reassurance of her presence. But as I looked up, my breath hitched.

In a second-floor window, a flicker of warm light spilled into the darkness. And there, etched against that warmth — her silhouette. Unmistakable.

A heavy exhale escaped my lips.

She was there.

Here.

On this same cursed world with me.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I knew, I had no right to be here. But god, I needed this, needed to see her.

She sat on the windowsill, book in hand. My future wife. Even in the dead of night, she was studying. How I loved her.

My gaze traced the familiar curve of her shoulders, the way the soft lamplight painted her skin with warmth, highlighting the strands of hair escaping her messy bun.

In that stolen moment, I could almost convince myself that things were different, that my actions hadn't irrevocably shattered something precious.

But then, she moved. Rising from her seat, she stretched, drawing the fabric of her shirt upwards. Before my mind could catch up, she was at the window, pushing it open. I froze.

She was staring down — right at me.

Shit.

I held my breath. For what felt like an eternity, we simply stared at each other. A muscle in her jaw twitched. Then her gaze dropped, breaking eye contact.

"You're bleeding."

I glanced down. The edge of my shorts was soaked through, a fresh stain of crimson spreading. Damn it. The cut had reopened.

"Yeah," I said, looking back up at her, "I'm a mess."

I braced myself for whatever was coming. The anger, the disgust, the righteous fury — it would all be justified. I deserved it. But she simply watched me. Her gaze was steady, devoid of emotion.

"You know where the entrance is," she said finally, then leaned back into the soft glow of her room and closed the window shut.

Before my brain could catch up with how wrong this was, I walked toward the apartment building.

─── ·✧· ───

I sat on the edge of her bed, she on a chair in front of me, her hands already on my leg as she pushed the fabric of my shorts up. "How could you not notice that?"

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off, "Wait, forget it."

Yeah. Now she remembered.

With practiced efficiency, she began cleaning the wound. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, considering how pissed she must be.

The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustle of bandages and my occasional sharp intake of breath when the antiseptic hit a raw spot.

My eyes wandered. Her space, even small and half-finished, felt warm, lived in. Smelled like her. Books spilling everywhere, papers scattered on a desk, a yoga mat forgotten in the corner — the organized chaos was so perfectly her.

Then my gaze landed on the half-unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. She really still didn't fully move in. Occupied with my mess, huh?

Guilt flooded me. I didn't deserve this, didn't deserve her gentle hands on me, not after everything.

Yet, a selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to stay exactly like this, wanted nothing more than to keep her hands on me.

With a sigh, I sank back against her pillows. Exhaustion seeped into my bones. Pain returned as the effects of the pills wore off.

Her fingers brushed the reopened cut. I winced, throwing an arm over my eyes. The relentless pounding in my head threatened to split me open, spilling all the ugly thoughts onto her pristine sheets.

"You've had nightmares again, haven't you?"

Huh?

I lifted my head a fraction, struggling to meet her eyes. She glanced up briefly, her eyes guarded, then focused back on my leg.

"Yeah, something like that." My head thumped back onto the pillow. "Hard to sleep when your head won't shut up."

"What dose?"

"You really don't want to know."

"I asked because I do," she countered. The sharp tug as she tightened the bandage around my leg was enough to make me speak.

"Ten milligrams," I admitted, wincing. "The usual."

She scoffed, then another, even sharper, tug had me gritting my teeth. "Ngh—fuck," I moaned.

I really needed a pill now.

She stood, gathering the first-aid supplies. "Heals slowly, doesn't it?"

I knew it.

I popped myself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Don't give me that look. You know damn well you deserved it."

I let out a dry laugh. "You really are a bitch sometimes." I dropped back onto the bed, my hand reaching for my throbbing head.

I needed two pills now.

"You've got some damn nerve. You show up here in the middle of the night, injured, high—"

"I'm not high—"

"Save it," she spat. "You know what your fucking problem is? You can't stand being alone. Alone with your thoughts, with yourself. So you run. You run to pills, to whatever distraction you can find, anything to fill the void."

Yeah, how the hell am I supposed to want to be alone after feeling what it's like to be with you, stupid.

"You're too damn scared to face your fears," she continued, her voice laced with a bitter edge, "and when someone threatens your artificial peace, someone who might actually force you to look in the damn mirror, you panic. You sabotage it, push them away before it all gets too real, too close."

She stepped closer. "Because it's easier, isn't it? Safer to stick with the misery you know than risk having to face that void."

Every word stung, but I couldn't deny it, couldn't lie anymore.

"You're right. And I'm sorry—"

"Don't." She rose a hand at me. "Don't pretend you care, Satoru. You've made it clear how little I matter."

How little you matter?

Oh, love, you couldn't be more wrong.

A harsh laugh escaped me.

"You find this funny?"

"No, love," I said, pushing myself up. My leg throbbed in protest, but I ignored it. Everything narrowed down to her. I moved closer, a strange recklessness fueling me. "Quite the opposite."

Something flickered in her eyes — surprise? wariness? — but the anger remained.

"Keep going," I insisted, moving closer. "Let it out. Yell at me, tell me how pathetic I am. Make me feel something, anything other than this damn emptiness."

She hesitated. Her eyes searched mine, and for a breathless moment, I hoped that her fury, her anger, would burn away the numbness, making me feel something, anything.

Because even her anger was better than her indifference.

I couldn't stand being indifferent to her.

Might as well make her hate me.

"You want me to yell at you?" Her voice rose, the first hint of the storm I craved. "Fine! You wanna be a pathetic mess? Go ahead! Piss away your career, your life, whatever the hell you care about, I don't give a damn anymore!"

Each word hit me, but there was a desperate relief in it. Finally, she wasn't looking at me with that chilling indifference, that cold pity that twisted a knife in my gut.

Her rage, it was fire — scorching and brutal, but alive. And I loved it.

Because it was prove she still cared, even if it was just to hate me with every fiber of her being. It was better than the void, that terrible chasm that had opened up between us after I'd pushed her away.

I closed the distance, enjoying the anger in her eyes. She flinched, but didn't back down.

"More." I grabbed her waist, lifting her with ease, and hauled her towards the bed.

"You're weak!" she spat, pushing against my chest, her voice rising with each word.

Yeah, so damn weak for you, love.

"You're selfish! So consumed by your own self-pity you can't see how you hurt everyone around you!"

Her words should have hurt. They probably would have, under different circumstances. But right now, I couldn't care less.

"Keep going," I rasped, my pulse pounding in my ears. I forced her onto the bed and hovered over her, my body trapping her between the mattress and my own. "C'mon, love, let it all out."

"You don't deserve me," she continued. "You don't deserve anyone who gives a damn, because you only know how to destroy things."

Each word was a knife. Yet, with each insult, the suffocating hollowness inside me eased a fraction. I wanted her anger, the full force of it, wanted the burn only she could inflict on me.

"More."

Her breath hitched, eyes narrowing. "You keep breaking my heart over and over, then come crawling back when it suits you, like it doesn't matter!"

"You're right." I leaned in, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. The thin fabric of her shirt did little to hide her shivers. "C'mon, love, give it to me. I know you can do better."

In one swift move, I ripped my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I leaned down again, my breath ghosting over her lips. "Hate me." My hands went for the flimsy waistband of her shorts. "Tell me how much you despise me."

Her breaths came fast, quick gasps against my skin. I could see it all over her face — the rage, the fear, and maybe — yeah, maybe that darker edge, the same desperation burning in me.

"I fucking hate you, Satoru. Hate that you made me care, made me fall for you, then crushed it."

"Don't stop," I said, my voice a hoarse rasp. "Say it again." Before she could react, her shorts were down, exposing her to the night air. My own pants followed hasty, desperate. "Say you hate me."

"I fucking hate that you treat me like I'm just another damn plaything to fill whatever void your messed-up mom or whatever left you with!"

Okay, now it gets personal.

"I fucking hate that you act like you can control me," she hissed, but her body betrayed her, shivered running down her skin as my hands gazed her collarbone. "Hate that you make my choices for me, decide what's good for me, like you got to have control over something when you obviously can't control yourself!"

Damn, Freud himself is on to something tonight, huh? She really doesn't know when to stop.

"You're a fucking hypocrite, you know that?" I leaned closer, my mouth close to her ear. "You hate who I am, but you crave this, don't you? Giving up control, being at my mercy. Admit it."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She lifted a hand, as if to slap me, but I was faster. I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, pressing them hard into the mattress.

"You know it's true," I pressed, relishing the way she struggled against my hold. "It's hard always being the composed one, isn't it? The responsible one. It's draining. Maybe that's why you're drawn to me. You love the thrill as much as I do, don't you?"

She stared at me, silent, her lips a tight line.

"Prove me wrong, sweetheart. Call me a liar, and I'll show you just how wrong you are," I leaned in closer, my voice a harsh whisper against her lips. "We're the same, you and me. We feed off each other. Even if you hate to admit it, I fill that emptiness inside you same as you do for me."

"You arrogant piece of shit!" she spat, twisting and bucking against my grip. "You think you know everything, control everything!"

"Don't I?" My grip tightened, feeling her pulse throb against my fingers. "Seems I've got you pinned pretty damn well, wouldn't you say?"

"You know it's true. You love this. Makes you feel something your books, your fancy grades never could."

"Screw you, Satoru," she hissed, venom in her voice. "We're nothing alike."

"You really are a fool, for wanting to fix something so broken it'll cut you to shreds the moment you get close and then you cry afterwards—"

Her spit hit my face. I closed my eyes for a second, then a smile twisted across my lips.

My future wife just spit in my face — what a good anecdote on our wedding day.

"That's my girl," I rasped, shoving her legs wider. "Tell me how much you hate me. Scream it."

"I fucking hate you Satoru, I hate you—"

Her words died on her tongue as I thrust forward, filling her completely. I closed my eyes, letting my head hang heavy for a second.

My god, the things this woman's body could do to me. I could feel her body trembling beneath me, her heart racing as she arched her back.

How treacherous a body can be, huh?

"Hate you, Satoru," she managed to say before she closed her eyes, biting down her lip as I thrust deeper still. Her thighs spread further apart, inviting me closer, urging me onward.

She's so damn beautiful.

I grinned, my hands still holding her wrists in place over her head. "I know you do, love. But you know what?" My lips were only a breath away from hers. "I hate you, too. I hate how you make me feel, how you expose every broken piece of me, how I crave you like I crave another fix."

Hell, I might just be addicted to this woman.

I pulled out fully, before thrusting back into her. Her head fell back, pressing into the mattress as a strangled moan escaping her lips.

She felt incredible.

Pulling back slowly, I watched her body react to the absence, her eyes flickering open to meet mine. Those pupils dilated with need, mirroring my own hunger for her.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not our fight. Not our problems. Not our insults that had left our lips moments before. Just us — two halves coming together in a perfect whole.

I pushed back into her, deeper, harder.

With each thrust, I felt myself sinking deeper into her, losing myself in her. Fuck, if there was anything better than this — well, I hadn't found it yet.

This woman owned me — plain and simple.

It was madness, this pull towards her.

Insane, perhaps.

But it was also undeniably real. So real that even though dawn threatened to break soon, stealing away whatever remnants of darkness remained, I couldn't help but chase after that high only she could provide.

Even knowing full well that when morning arrived, reality would crash down upon us, forcing us back onto opposite sides of the divide.

"Look what you've done to me, love. You're making a fool of me." I whispered against her lips without touching them.

Weren't together anymore after all.

Kissing would be too much.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath me. Her nails dug into my skin where my hands gripped her wrists. With each deep thrust, I watched her face contort with pleasure and pain, her features illuminated by fleeting streaks of moonlight seeping through the curtains.

I loved that look on her face.

I wondered if I could make that look even more pathetic.

I pulled out, dragging the tip of my length across her clit before pushing back in. She squirmed underneath me, arching her back. But I denied her, keeping my unhurried pace. I wanted to draw out this sweet torture for as long as possible.

Hours passed — or perhaps mere minutes. I couldn't tell anymore. All that mattered was this woman writhing beneath me.

Groaning in frustration, she attempted to break free from my grip. "Dammit, Satoru. If you won't finish what you started, then get off me!"

I smirked. "Why so eager, love. Can't handle the wait?" I leaned in to kiss down the side of her neck. She shivered beneath me, her breath hitching as my teeth grazed her skin.

With my free hand I reached down, running my fingers down her quivering stomach, relishing in the shivers that coursed through her body.

She glared up at me, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Stop calling me 'love'. I don't belong to you, not anymore—"

She gasped into my mouth when I found her clit. Slowly, deliberately, I began to circle it with my thumb, feeling her surrender to me. I plunged deeper, thrusting into her mercilessly.

Let her hate me all she wants. She can't deny the chemistry between us — a spark that refuses to fade, no matter how hard either of us tries.

She must have hated this — hated how she surrendered to me, even with all that anger. Made me wondered if I could rail her up even more.

"You think you're so much better than me?" I rasped. "So strong, so selfless, always putting others first? It's a lie, and you know it. You're just bored."

"You fucker!" Before I knew what was happening, she broke free of my grasp and had flipped us over so that she was now straddling my hips.

Without warning, she reached forward, gripping my throat with surprising strength as she leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around our faces. I couldn't help but smile.

"Don't project your bullshit on me," she seethed, her face inches from mine.

Her words sent a chill down my spine, stirring up a fresh wave of desire within me. Damn, this woman was infuriating — and captivating in the worst way possible.

We glared at each other like enemies preparing for battle.

"Aren't you a little tired? Pulling up that act all the time?" I choked out, feeling her fingers dig in further. "Deep down, you're just as bored as me, you're just too righteous to admit it."

"Shut up," she hissed, pressing harder, choking the words out of me.

This was madness. Destructive madness. But for this one desperate moment, I didn't care. It was exhilarating, addictive. Because love, our twisted, broken love, wasn't supposed to be pretty.

It was messy, chaotic, and borderline abusive. But sometimes all you need is a firm grip around the throat to remind you that you're alive.

"Harder, love," I gasped, a laugh bubbling up in my constricted throat. "Come on, make me feel your rage."

Slowly, deliberately, she began grinding her hips against mine, setting a maddening pace that left me reeling. Fuck, I think I love it even more when she hates me.

"Ahh, shit," I gasped, clutching at her thighs as she rode me mercilessly. "That's it."

Eyes squeezed shut, my head rolled back. Chills prickled my skin, possibly due to the cool breeze drifting in from the window. Or perhaps it was merely her.

She rode me with increased speed, and I could barely contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body. Every fiber of my being screamed for release.

My knuckles on her thighs turned white from the force. "Oh, shit, you're going to kill me," I moaned between choked sounds that escaped my lips.

My lips twisted into a smile again. "Admit it. You love the chaos as much as I do. The thrill, the way it makes you feel alive."

"You're wrong," she said, increasing her pace making my cock twitch inside her. "We're nothing alike."

"Keep telling yourself that," I replied, struggling to catch my breath, as she made me lose my mind. "But I know the truth—we're two sides of the same coin."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Why else would you be here, like this, with me?" I countered. "Face it, we're addicted to each other—the highs, the lows, the constant push and pull. It's exhilarating, isn't it?"

"You're the only addict here."

"Liar," I rasped.

Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She was close. Each contraction of her pushing me further towards a peak that I knew would soon shatter me.

But I wasn't ready yet. Not quite.

I shifted our positions, sitting upright before spinning us around so she was now beneath me on the mattress. I positioned myself behind her, forcing her down onto the mattress.

I slowly slid my hand along her spine as I pushed her further down, feeling her tremble beneath my touch, the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.

It was intoxicating to watch her submit to me.

"Fuck, you'll be the death of me."

Leaning down, I pressed my lips against the small of her back, feeling her shiver once more. My hand continued its descent, stopping just short of where she needed me.

"Satoru," my name fell from her lips.

Oh, how I loved it when she breathed my name like that. I couldn't resist her — could never resist her. I was at her mercy. Even now.

She arched her back, silently pleading for me to continue. I slid my hand between her legs. "God, you're so fucking wet," I murmured, slipped a finger inside her, then another. She was so tight, so warm.

I couldn't wait to be inside her again.

She gasped, pushing back against me. "Don't stop."

Curving my fingers, I searched for that spot that I knew would drive her mad. When I found it, she cried out, her hips bucking against my hand. Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, grasping for purchase as I started to move inside her.

"Yes, fuck," she moaned, spreading her legs wider. "Right there."

Oh, love. I know you like that.

I smiled, relishing the fact that I knew her body better than herself. I knew every inch of her, every freckle, every scar, every sensitive spot that made her squirm.

"More," she begged.

I happily obliged, adding a third finger and thrusting deeper. She was soaking wet, her juices coating my fingers as I fucked her with my hand. Her moans grew louder, more urgent. She was close, so close.

I increased the pace of my fingers, pumping them in and out of her as I used my thumb to apply pressure to her clit.

However, as her moans reached a fever pitch, I withdrew my fingers, denying her release.

She gasped, glanced over her shoulder at me, her mouth open, but said nothing — probably out of breath.

I brought my fingers to my mouth, savoring the taste of her. It was so uniquely her. I couldn't get enough.

Leaning in, I pressed my body against hers from behind, my hard length probed at her entrance.

I leaned down over her, my hand snaking into her hair. I grabbed it tightly, forcing her head up to meet mine. "I love you, first-year," I murmured against her ear.

She trembled, but her defiance remained strong. "I hate you."

I sighed — always so fierce, makes me wonder what it takes to fuck that stubborn attitude out of her.

"It's alright, I love you enough for both of us."

With that, I pushed her head down into the mattress. Her cry muffled by the sheets beneath her as I thrust into her once more, bottoming out inside her with a groan.

I began to move in and out of her. Faster now, harder until the headboard slammed against the wall. Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She clawed at the sheets beneath her, her moans muffled by the fabric.

As her cries grew louder, I quickly pushed her face further into the mattress. "Quiet, first year," I murmured as I angled myself to rub against her G-spot, making it harder for her to keep quiet. "Wouldn't want to disturb anyone in the middle of the night, would we?"

Neither of us spoke a word — not that she could but — perhaps because there was nothing left to say. Instead, we communicated solely through our actions, saying everything that needed to be said without opening our mouths.

I increased both the pace and pressure. Nearly causing her to fall forward hadn't I held her in place with one hand on her waist and one sill in her hair. Her breath hitched, her entire body tensed as she approached her breaking point.

Oh, how I loved feeling her tighten around me.

Bringing her closer to the edge was a thrill like no other. Watching her lose control, hearing her cries and moans, feeling her body tremble beneath me — it was intoxicating.

I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, my balls tightening as I approached my own release.

Her cries grew louder, more urgent, until finally, she shattered around me, her orgasm triggering my own.

With a final thrust, I emptied myself inside her, filling her completely. Her contractions milked every last drop from me, her body still quivering around me.

I stayed inside her, savoring the feeling. It might be the last time.

I was panting, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to catch my breath. My cock was still twitching inside her. Reluctantly, I pulled out with a low moan.

I stayed behind her for a moment longer, admiring the curve of her waist, the sheen of sweat on her skin in the sliver of moonlight.

Don't know when or if I'll ever see that again.

Time seemed to stand still, suspended indefinitely as we tried to find our breath again.

Then she turned her head. "You're a fucking idiot," she finally said.

"Tell me something I don't know."

She shifted to face me, her expression serious. "Promise me something."

"Anything you want, love."

"Promise me, you won't kill yourself with your pills."

I swallowed hard. That's not what'll get me, I thought, as I felt a sharp pain lancing through my right side.

I moved closer, cupping her face with my hands that trembled slightly. For an insane moment, I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn't — couldn't ever again. "I promise," I rasped.

The words heavy with a lie we both knew.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: wooooaaa, another insane!gojo chapter lol. this chapter really killed me, was crying, screaming, throwing up while writing.

i'm equally scared and excited to hear what you think about todays chapter, ngl. originally i didn't plan a smut scene in this chapter, but you know, somewhere down that line gojo just happened and here we are.

also like, i think now both their's darkest secrets are now out — in the worst way possible. also because i keep getting messages regarding how much chapters are left of the story, idk i write form chapter to chapter. we're down somewhere the 60—70 % line with the story i guess, but we'll see. still more to uncover of gojo's past and all that.

also sorry for the people asking of for more fluff and happy moments, ehhh, there will be some in the future?? also i'm still sticking to the plan of a happy ending, so don't worry!! gojo fucked up big time and the next chapters will center about him trying to fight his fears and get shit together — let's see if he can do that. curious myself.

so thank you so so much for sicking by with the story. sending kisses to all of you lovely people seeing me messages, leaving likes, comments and reblog stuff. it really makes my heart happy everything i see a notification. love you all sm!! ♡

okay my last note, just so you know, i'm going on vocation soon, so the next chapter will be a bit delayed again, sorraaaayyy!! wishing you a great day or night and an awesome weekend ahead! ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34 @nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy @bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @nanamis-baker @neptnszn (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

#symptoms and causes #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen #saturo gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo angst #gojo angst #jjk smut #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk fanfic

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 5 months

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Six.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You finally start to appreciate the happiness that having a soulmate brings.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. so much fluff.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5k

Author's Note - the sixth installment!! thank you to everyone who voted in my poll - I listened, and decided to make this chapter as sweet as pie, because I think we all need it. it's nice to have a little break from the angst. just a liiiiittle break though. a tiny one. as always, thank you for all of your love and support and enthusiasm and patience and kindness towards this story. so much love for every one of you. <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

"Are you happy?"

You stretch your feet further into the sand and sit up, wiggling to get comfortable on the picnic blanket.

"That's a big question to start with."

Stella laughs and closes her notebook, deciding to take a different route than originally planned.

"I just mean... be honest with me. I'm not gonna be offended if you say no."

"Do you think I'm gonna say no?"

"Do you always have to answer my questions with questions?"

You tilt your head and watch her, smiling softly.

"I thought this was supposed to be an employee performance review."

"You're not my employee and you know it."

Both of you laugh, the sound whipped away by the sea breeze.

"Then what am I, Stella?" you chuckle.

"You're basically my partner. Come on, we've done all of this together. You helped me build this business from the ground up - I couldn't have done it without you."

You go to protest, so she continues.

"I think you should be. My partner, that is. Obviously there's logistics to work out, but it'd be fifty fifty. You and I, co-owners. It doesn't feel right to me that you're my 'employee'. I'm not your boss. We're equals."

Your mind is running a mile a minute, trying to process what Stella's asking of you. Being her business partner is an opportunity you know is rare and incredibly special - and it could potentially set you up for life - but you can't help but think about the fact it's a big commitment. About home. About Bucky.

"You don't have to answer me right now - I just want you to think about it. We always talked about opening up businesses of our own. I should have asked you to be my partner at the beginning, but honestly... I didn't know if you were gonna stick around. It kinda felt like you had one foot out the door when we started."

You take a deep breath, nodding.

"Yeah. I, uh - I think I did. Don't get me wrong, I was super excited, but the idea of moving away when I felt like I'd just got home was a lot to process. I'd just settled back there, and then I was gonna be packing up all of my stuff again and shipping myself across the country. "

"I didn't realise it was so tough for you, you know. I just assumed you wouldn't mind moving. I mean, you were always up for it, back at school."

"Things changed, after I graduated. I got home, and a couple of things happened and I guess it just... turned everything upside down. Home is different now. In a good way, I think."

"You're different now, too."

You look at her carefully, half attempting to read her mind.

"How do you mean?"

"You're... more grounded. More careful. You think through everything way more than you ever did. Almost like you've realised you're not invincible anymore."

There's a feeling, when you're young, that you're indestructible. Unharmable. Broken bones mend, cuts and bruises heal, hearts and minds forget about their aches if you give them long enough.

Then one day, that feeling is gone. And you realise that you're mortal - made of flesh and blood and bones that will one day be returned to the Earth, whether you like it or not.

Meeting your soulmate is like having that realisation again, but bigger. Again, and again, and again. You don't live for yourself, anymore. You live for them. The pain they'd feel if they lost you is unfathomable, completely unimaginable.

So you become more careful. Less reckless. You drive a little slower, take things a little easier, quit your dangerous hobbies and unhealthy habits. You need to be alive for as long as possible. And you know your soulmate will do the same.

That's how you can tell a Tethered person from an Untethered one. Ask two people to go skydiving with you, and the Tethered one will tell you no. They can't risk it. It's not worth it.

Stella's right. You have realised you're not invincible anymore. You're a little more cautious when you climb ladders, you don't balance precariously on the kitchen counters anymore. You look twice when you cross the street, and don't risk it if there's a car coming and you could maybe get across.

You're also painfully aware that Bucky's older than you. He'll be turning forty in less than two years. Sure, he's not ancient, but it does mean you'll have less time together than Lacie will with Cameron, for example. And that hard truth makes you live a little less recklessly, every single day.

"I guess I just... grew up."

You're honestly not sure why you don't just tell Stella about Bucky. You know she'd understand. But there's a part of you that feels protective over what you have - territorial, even. Your Tethering is sacred, almost, and you feel the primal urge to guard it with your life. To lock it in a box and keep it away from anything that could harm it. The less people that know, the less damage that can be done. Maybe.

"I did too. The world is kinda scary now we're not in that little culinary school bubble, huh?"

"Yeah," you laugh. "We thought that was hard. Little did we know."

"Take your time, thinking about my offer. But just know that I really, really appreciate the fact that you're here. That you believed in me enough to move across the country. It means a lot."

"Of course," you say, reaching across to grab her hand. "I always believed in you, Stella. I always knew you'd do something great."

"We'd."

"Hmm?"

"We'd do something great. The two of us. Together."

"I always knew that we'd do something great," you correct.

You're starting to believe that, as time goes on. You were born to do this. You deserve to live your dreams.

Let the happiness seep through, you'd told yourself.

It finally feels like it is.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"There's a guy here to see you."

Isabel pops her head around the door, grinning at you like she knows something you don't.

"Again?"

She nods, giggling.

"Let me guess... he's hot, tall, brown hair?"

"Bingo."

"Thanks, Isa. I'll be right out. Is it busy out there?"

"It's quieter than it was. There was a pastry rush this morning, but we're good now."

You laugh and hang up your apron, washing your hands quickly before making your way to the café.

You feel like you're having déjà vu, this situation oddly familiar.

Just like Isa said, he's stood waiting with his back to you, broad shoulders filling out his powder blue short sleeve button up.

You're excited to see Rafael again. You've been trying a new cookie recipe for his sister, and you're eager to get him to try it. You're mentally making a note to buy a nice box to put them in when you feel it.

The lights get a little brighter, the colours a little more vibrant. The tightness in your chest eases, allowing you to take a full, deep breath. You can suddenly hear the birds outside singing, melodies drifting through the open doors like a summer breeze.

The man turns around, and it's not Rafael.

It's Bucky.

You're moving before you can even process it, running and jumping into his arms. You inhale, revelling in his familiar scent. He's here. Your happiness has arrived.

"Surprise," he laughs quietly into your ear. "Miss me, honey girl?"

You beam a grin at him, pulling away to look at his handsome face.

"More than you'll ever know."

"Oh, I know. I feel it."

He places a hand over his heart gently, looking at you with pure adoration.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's been a month since your Mom's birthday. A month since I've seen your pretty face. A month too long."

You roll your eyes jokingly, so he continues.

"You don't mind that I'm here, do you? Because I'll go, if it's too much for you. I know me showing up unannounced is a lot to process."

"Don't go," you reply quickly, grabbing his hand. "I want you here, Buck. More than anything."

He leans in and presses his lips to yours, cradling your face in his warm hands. The background of the café melts away, the man in front of you the only thing that matters.

You pull away and smile at him, pressing your forehead into his gently.

"Come back to the kitchen with me. Let's get away from all the noise."

You grab his hand and pull him with you, ignoring the excited giggling from Isabel behind the counter.

Bucky perches against a counter, leaning back to allow you to stand in between his legs. You wrap your arms around his neck and peck his lips, stealing kisses in between giddy smiles.

"I hope you weren't expecting a day full of super exciting adventures. I've got a list full of stuff I've got to get finished by closing."

"Honey, I'm more than content to stay here and watch you work. There's nothing I love more than watching you bake."

You run your fingertips over his face carefully, gently tracing his features as you look at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I don't care what we do, as long as we're together."

You wrap your arms around his middle, holding him as tightly as you can.

"I feel like I hit the soulmate jackpot," you whisper.

"No one's as lucky as I am," he whispers back. "Now, come on. Let me see you work your magic."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bucky, it turns out, makes a damn good assistant.

Instead of just watching, he volunteers to help in whatever way he can. You set him onto weighing your ingredients, so you can focus on making and decorating. He takes his job very seriously, measuring down to the precise gram each time. You can't help but grin as you watch him concentrate, determined to get it right.

At lunch time, Isabel brings you both coffee and sandwiches, entering just as you're teaching Bucky how to properly fold in ingredients.

"Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"You could never. Isa, this is Bucky. Buck, this is Isabel. Our best waitress."

He holds out his floury hand for her to shake.

"It's nice to meet you, Isabel. I've heard a lot about you."

"You have?"

Her eyes light up as she looks at you, fighting the smile off her face.

"My honey talks about you all the time."

Isabel glances between the two of you, clearly trying to figure things out.

"And you two are..."

"Soulmates," you say at the same time as Bucky does.

Her jaw drops for a moment, before she laughs.

"Yeah. That makes a lot of sense, actually."

You roll your eyes at her lovingly before Stella's voice calls her name from out front.

"I better go. But me and you are gonna talk about this later."

"Fine," you laugh.

"Nice to meet you!" Bucky shouts after her, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I like that we're just telling people now."

"Yeah, me too, actually. I thought it'd be scary, but... it feels right."

He slings an arm around your middle, pulling you into his side.

"We've still got the two most important people left to tell."

Your muscles tense and Bucky feels it instantly, running his thumb in patterns over your hip gently.

"I've been thinking about it a lot. I'm almost ready, Buck. We can't avoid it forever. Next time I'm home, I think we should do it. We should tell them."

Bucky hooks two fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Are you sure? Once we tell them, we can't undo it. We'll only do it if you're one hundred percent sure."

"I'll be ready when the time comes. It'll be a huge weight off of both of our shoulders, which I think we both need."

"Okay then," he says, kissing your forehead. "Next time you're home."

Isabel clears her throat from the doorway, smiling sheepishly.

"I can't believe I'm saying this again, but... there's a guy here to see you."

You laugh, untangling yourself from Bucky with a kiss to his cheek.

"Send him through. Thanks, Isa."

The man you were originally expecting to see this morning walks into the kitchen, envelopes in his hand.

"Hey!"

"Hey, Rafael."

He gives you a quick hug, before waving at Bucky.

"Hey, man. You've gotta be the soulmate, right?"

Bucky chuckles, coming over to shake Raf's hand.

"Yeah, that's me. How'd you know?"

"Are you kidding? You can feel it the minute you walk into the room. There's like, electricity in here."

You laugh, hiking yourself up to sit on the counter. Bucky stands next to you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Here," Rafael says, handing you an envelope. "We're having a gala next month, for the charity that has supported my sister. We'd love it if you could come - and bring your date too, of course."

"I'd love to," you say as you read the invitation. "Do you need me to bring anything? You know I'll happily make something, if you guys need it."

"You would?"

"Absolutely! I could bring a cake, if you like? I haven't done a proper, three tiered cake in forever. I'd love to."

"That'd be... amazing. Seriously. We just want to raise as much money as possible."

"Of course. Thanks for these, Raf. How is she?"

"She's okay. She's getting a tiny bit stronger every day, and that's all we can really ask for."

You reach a hand out to squeeze his in support.

"You know where I am if you need anything."

"Of course. Thank you, so much. I've gotta run - I've got like a hundred of these invites to deliver. But I'll see you at the weekend?"

"For sure. See you, Raf!"

"Nice to meet you, Bucky."

"You too, man. Take care."

Isa shows Rafael out of the door, winking at you on her way out.

"Damn, he's handsome," Bucky laughs.

"Isn't he?" you giggle. "Nothing on my soulmate though, I'm afraid."

"Shut up," he blushes, leaning in to capture your lips. "You wanna get dinner when you're done here?"

"Yes, please. I'll show you around my new apartment too."

"Can't wait."

There's not an ounce of tension in your muscles as you finish up your bakes for the day, gliding around the kitchen while Bucky stands and watches your every move.

If you could pause time, this would be when you'd do it. You'd be content to live in this moment forever.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The minute Bucky walks through your front door, he inhales deeply. The entire place smells like you, cosy and golden.

"You like it?"

"It's gorgeous, baby. I love the windows."

He makes his way over to your kitchen, where the glass panes run from floor to ceiling. Sitting on the bench pressed against it, he takes in the view, savouring the feeling of the sun on his face.

You sit down on his lap, draping your legs over him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Nuzzling your face into his jaw, you press a kiss to the stubble, resisting the urge to lick the salt off of his skin.

"Come on," you murmur. "Let me show you my bedroom. The sun sets in that direction, so it's always beautiful in there."

You grab his hand and walk him across the apartment, swinging open the door to your room and pushing him inside.

He takes in the space for a moment before turning in your direction, striding over to smash his lips to yours. You tangle your fingers into his shirt and pull him closer, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth with ease.

Bucky leans in to trail kisses down your neck as he slips your shirt over your head, making quick work of unclasping your bra with skilled fingers. He grasps your chest in both hands, massaging gently as he nips at your throat.

"So fucking pretty," he murmurs. "Haven't stopped thinking about you since you left me."

You whine and unbutton his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. You're desperate to see more, desperate to feel his skin on yours, desperate to bare every inch of him.

Your fingers make deft work of his belt, sliding it from its loops and throwing it to the ground. You unpop his button and slide down the zipper, pulling his jeans off his legs in no time. You shimmy out of your skirt, leaving you both in your underwear.

The evening sun seeps through the window panes, illuminating the room in hues of orange and gold. The light hits Bucky's skin, making him glow in a halo of love and adoration.

He walks you backwards, wrapping an arm around your back to throw you onto the white sheets of your bed. Crawling over you, he settles in between your legs, pressing gentle kisses from your ankles to your inner thighs.

"The way you look when you come has been burned in my mind," he whispers. "Need to see it again. It's been too long."

He slides your underwear down your legs and wastes no time, diving into you like a man starved. He devours you, tongue never ceasing it's movements. His hands pry your thighs apart, one arm thrown over your stomach to keep you still. When your muscles start to shake, Bucky doubles down on his efforts, lapping and sucking at you like you're his lifesource.

"Oh, Buck, I'm-"

You see stars as you come, white and silver shapes flying through your vision. Bucky never stops, prolonging your release for as long as he can. When you go boneless, he ceases, pressing kisses to the inside of your knee.

"You okay?" he murmurs, moving so his body smothers yours.

"I'm good," you smile, leaning up to kiss him. You groan when you taste yourself, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Need you, baby. Please, Buck."

"You sure?"

You smile at him, cradling his face in your hands.

"Couldn't be surer."

He dips down to lick into your mouth once more, shucking his boxers off and throwing them across the room. Slipping a condom on, he lines himself up, eyes meeting yours.

"I need you more than I need air to breathe," he murmurs. "You know that, don't you?"

"Buck," you breathe. "I've been going crazy here without you."

He goes to speak, but stops himself, instead leaning down to kiss your forehead.

"I know," you whisper. "I know."

Bucky slides home in one smooth thrust, both of you gasping. One of his hands finds your hip, the other resting against your throat as an anchor. You wrap your legs around his waist, arms snaking around his shoulders.

"Fuck me, please."

"Fuck," he groans. "I'll be replaying that in my head forever."

You chuckle breathlessly, gasping when he draws his hips back and forward again. He sets an even pace - not too fast, not too slow. He has you right where he wants you, both of your bodies in perfect synchronisity. It feels like the stars have aligned. Everything's fallen into place.

Bucky dances his fingers from your hip to your clit, rubbing firm circles. He plays you like a violin, your muscles tensing as you get closer.

"That's it, pretty girl. Fuck, you're so good for me. You close, honey? Gonna come for me again?"

You nod frantically as he picks up his pace, hips colliding with yours. He groans as you tighten around him, head dropping to rest against yours.

"Come for me, honey girl," he whispers. "Please."

Your back arches as you find your release, nails scratching at the skin of Bucky's back. The pain tips him over the edge, spilling inside of you with a deep groan. He collapses on top of you, both of your chests heaving.

"I think we're naturals at that," you chuckle hoarsely.

"You think it's the soulmate thing, or are we just that good?"

"I think we're just that good," you laugh, pushing him off your body so he lands next to you. You link your fingers with his, resting your head on his chest.

"I need a drink."

"I was just thinking that, actually. You wanna go out? Know anywhere?"

"There's a cute little bar that looks out over the cove - it has good food and good cocktails. You wanna go there?"

"I'd go anywhere with you," he affirms, pressing a kiss into your hair.

"I'd kill for a pineapple margarita right now."

Bucky sits up suddenly, bringing you with him, arms wrapped around you.

"Then let's go get my girl a pineapple margarita."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The golden lights adorn the beams of wood above your head, the deck illuminated in the gentle glow. The ocean waves break the shore in a comfortingly repetitive motion, a calming soundtrack to the evening. You sit across from Bucky at your table for two, the sunset casting orange hues across the horizon.

"It's beautiful out here."

"Yeah," you agree, smiling. "The view is pretty good."

Your eyes haven't left his, lost in the sea blue of his irises. He chuckles, running his thumb over the back of your hand where it rests atop the table.

"This is our first date, you know."

"Really?"

"I mean, we've been 'dating' this whole time - but we've never gone out and had dinner like this. Held hands and all."

"You're right. Our first date of many, huh?"

"Our first of countless," he grins, brushing his lips over your knuckles in a gentle kiss.

"Where do my parents think you are?"

"Visiting a cousin in Nevada."

You laugh, and the sound makes Bucky light up, electricity running through his veins.

"You're a scarily good liar."

"To everyone but you."

"I used to think I was a good liar. Until I met you, that is."

Just as he's about to respond, your waitress appears, two pineapple margaritas in hand. She takes your orders and leaves, smiling at you.

"Oh, shit. She forgot to give us straws. I'm gonna grab some - be right back."

You chase her inside, tapping her shoulder gently.

"Excuse me - could I get a couple of straws, please?"

"Of course. Sorry!" she apologises, handing them to you.

"Thank you! Your shirt is so cute, by the way."

"Thanks - it's thrifted! You're gorgeous, girl. And your boyfriend is stupidly hot too. You're a pretty couple."

You thank her and laugh, returning to Bucky with a grin on your face.

"What's got you smiling?"

"The waitress called you my boyfriend."

"Huh. As much as I love the commitment... boyfriend kinda sounds like we're in ninth grade, doesn't it?"

You throw your head back, laughing with your entire being.

"That's what I thought. There's gotta be a better word. Partner? No, that makes us sound forty."

"I am almost forty."

"Oops."

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he can't wipe the blinding grin from his face. He takes out his phone and snaps a quick picture of you, admiring the way the breeze caresses your face as the setting sun beats down.

"Sneaky," you tease. "Let me see?"

He hands you the phone, letting you look through. You swipe right one too many times, and accidentally land on a picture of a blueprint laid out across a kitchen counter. His kitchen counter.

"Babe... what's this?"

You don't miss the way Bucky's cheeks heat up, blush creeping across his chest that's exposed by the V neckline of his blue button up. He stutters for a moment, before finding his footing.

"They're blueprints. Plans for a house."

"A house?"

"I want to build a house."

When you keep looking at him softly, he doubles down.

"I want to build a house for us."

Your breath hitches in your chest, the world going silent momentarily.

"You... you do?"

"My Dad worked in construction my entire childhood. I watched him build houses, apartment buildings, bungalows... everything. I've always wanted to do it, but never had reason to. Until now."

You squeeze his hand, urging him to continue.

"I've been planning it for upwards of ten years. But I'm taking it more seriously, now. Those blueprints are the final ones. It's all mapped out, down to the square inch. I've made some modifications for you, obviously."

He zooms in on the picture, pointing out areas on the plans.

"I've added a big island in the kitchen with a tonne of storage in it, for all of your supplies. I know you have that huge mixer, so I've made sure there's enough space for it to fit underneath with the doors closed."

You take a deep breath, lump in your throat forming unwillingly.

"Up here, there's a window at the top of the stairs. I've added a sketch of a bench which I'll upholster, so you can sit and read in the sunlight."

Tangling your legs with his under the table, you urge him to continue.

"I've also made sure there's a balcony off the master bedroom that overlooks the garden. I know how much you love sitting on yours in your apartment at home. There's probably like a hundred more little modifications for you, but those are just a few."

Tears are running down your cheeks freely, emotion escaping you like a flash flood.

"Bucky..."

"If it's too much too soon, please tell me. I won't be offended, baby. I know it's a lot."

"It's perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You jump up from your seat and around the table, throwing yourself into his lap to kiss him happily.

"I can't wait to build a house with you, Buck."

He grins at you, joy radiating off him in waves.

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

He blinks back tears for a second, processing the words he's been waiting to hear for what feels like an eternity.

"I love you too, honey girl. My pretty baby."

He leans in to kiss you tenderly, the rest of the world melting away. It feels like it's just the two of you, floating on cloud nine.

Suddenly, you get it. You understand why people say this is the greatest thing that'll ever happen.

It is. They were right all along.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

After several pineapple flavoured cocktails and a taco or four, you and Bucky take a slow stroll home, hand in hand along the sidewalk.

"You wanna have a sleepover tonight?" you ask, digging your heels into the ground to stop yourself from skipping with glee.

"Can't think of anything I want more," he chuckles.

You walk a little while longer, content to bask in the comfortable silence.

"Guess what happened a few days ago."

"What, honey?"

"Stella asked me to be her business partner."

He stops where he is, turning to face you but never letting go of your hand.

"Wait, really?"

"Mhmmm."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I was unsure, at first. But I'm going to do it. I've been thinking about this for a while, actually. We had to take a business class in culinary school, and I actually learned a lot. I've had a business plan for the future of the café drafted up for months. Numbers, locations, investors, everything. I'm really serious about this, you know."

He's gazing at you like you hung the moon, eyes bright and adoring.

You sit down on a bench, looking out over the coastal path. Bucky joins you, arm heavy over your shoulders.

"I can't stay here."

His head whips around.

"Baby..."

"I mean it, Buck. I like this city, I do, but I just can't settle. It feels like a placeholder until I can go home. And it's not fair to Stella, if it feels like I'm half in half out."

He goes to speak, but you're on a roll.

"I'm suggesting that we franchise the business. It's the logical next step anyway, it was just a matter of choosing the right location. I'm proposing somewhere a hell of a lot closer to home. To you. To my parents. And that means we'll have one branch on the east coast, and one on the west. We can start filling the middle, in the future."

"Are you... are you sure?"

"I've never been surer of anything, James Buchanan Barnes. I wanna start my life with you. Telling my parents, building a house, furthering my career. I'm ready, now."

Bucky grabs your face in his warm hands, kissing you with more passion than you ever thought possible. It's all the answer you need.

"I want you to read over my plan, when we get back to my place. But it's tight, Buck. I've been perfecting it for months. There's no way Stella can say no - I've made it so she won't want to. Besides, she just wants me to be happy. And this... this will make me happy. Happy beyond words."

Bucky stands up, wrapping his arms around your middle to bring you with him. He spins you around, laughing when you squeal in surprise.

"I'm so proud of you, honey baby. I love you so much."

"I love you," you grin. "More than I ever thought possible."

Bucky practically carries you home, both of you giddy on excitement and hope.

You wake up tangled in his arms, sunlight beaming down onto your skin through the open window. Happiness, you think. It's finally here.

Happiness. It's finally here.

tag list part one -

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redflagshipwriter · 9 days

Text

Hot Ghouls in Your Area 8

Chapter 8

Masterpost

“You're just now going to campus?” Jazz said. Danny scowled ahead at the sidewalk. Her tone wasn't judgmental so much as mildly surprised. He still hated it. “That's a lot later than usual. Is everything alright?” Danny hunched his shoulders up and consciously reminded himself not to get defensive. He wasn't slacking. He'd gotten home after his class and slept 13 hours. He still felt wiped out.

“Ghost stuff,” he said cryptically. “Ruined my night.” He dodged someone on the sidewalk without thinking about it, used to the crowds by now.

Jazz inhaled sharply into his ear. “They're supposed to leave you alone to focus on your education,” she hissed. “Just so you know, I do have the venomous Fenton electric creep stick-”

“Yeah, I know,” Danny cut her off. She was probably holding it up right now, thumb on the trigger. He couldn't fight off the rueful smile. She had his back, didn't she? Always did. With that in mind… “I think I need help,” he admitted. Oof. Felt bad. Not as bad as failing his classes, though, which was the danger if he got pulled too deep into more Ghost bull honkey.

“Of course!” Jazz enthused. He stepped off the curb and then quick-stepped backwards to avoid getting hit by some asshole running the red light. Danny lifted up his free hand to flip them off as he hung on his heels on the edge of the pavement drop. He dropped lightly back onto the balls of his feet and jogged across the street.

Jazz was still talking, voice clear over the morning meld of honking and running engines. “How about you come over to my place after your classes tonight? My roommate is out for a conference.”

“You just don't want to come to Crime Alley,” Danny accused her. “Even for me, your beloved baby brother.” He dodged a car that was parked on the cross walk and made an ugly face at the driver. “Despite your professed love for crime, when it counts, it's all talk.”

“I don't love crime,” Jazz reiterated with her inhuman patience. She didn't take the bait of his deliberate mischaracterization of her career plans. “But I am exquisitely stabbable." Her tone went lofty with the brag. "So yes, I avoid Crime Alley.”

Danny blew an unimpressed raspberry to show what he thought of that.

He hadn't met anyone in Gotham yet who he thought would really throw Jazz for a loop. She was a 6ft 2 judo black belt, and she was liminally spooky as fuck. “No one would stab you,” he said, making it sound like an insult. His janky ass was more likely to get held up. "But fine, I'll haul my poor broken corpse all the way over there to do you a favor-”

“So I can do you a favor,” Jazz corrected wryly.

“My poor broken corpse,” Danny cut back in, because that was a really relevant factor to him. He put the back of his hand to his forehead and swooned a little. He felt like he'd been in a tumble dryer. Missing a full night of sleep was an insufferable insult to his desperate shoe-string construction of a healthy routine.

“I would so get robbed if I came there,” Jazz argued. “Maybe even kidnapped.” He could all but hear her flip her hair.

He snorted but let her keep her delicate feminine delusions about not being one of the scariest motherfuckers in the crime capital of the country. He wasn't actually worried about her interning at Arkham Asylum. Maybe he'd freaked out a little when she'd moved here, but that wasn't why he was here. No matter what anyone said.

“There's no immediate danger, right?” Jazz checked. “No reason I need to be concerned today?”

“Nah,” Danny reassured her, as the campus came into sight. He had about an hour before class to spend in the lab before his lecture. “It's not that kind of problem.” He felt his face arranged itself into a wry smile. “You might like this one.”

“Oh?” Jazz asked, intrigued. “Do tell.”

“Only after I've sworn you to perfect silence,” Danny shot back instantly. “I mean it, for real, you can't tell a soul living or dead or nonliving or-”

“I think I get it,” she cut him off. Jazz huffed. “As if I can't keep a secret. You think I can't keep secrets? I know the most incredible things that you could never dream up.”

“...Big if true,” Danny snarked, pretending that he wasn't extremely interested.

“You never knew what happened to the Robinsons,” Jazz said airily. “And you never will.”

“...that doesn't bother me at all,” Danny lied. He stopped walking.

“Ahuh,” Jazz said knowingly. “Hey, remember the neon cheese incident?”

Danny gritted his teeth. “Can't say I do,” he said. It was bullshit, and even he knew it wasn't convincing Jazz. He was dying to know the truth. It had been the talk of the town for weeks and was still occasionally featured on unsolved mystery podcasts. He'd gone far enough to ask the Dairy King, but even the dead wouldn't speak on it.

“Have a good day of classes, little brother,” Jazz said sweetly. She ended the call.

He rubbed at his temples. Ancients, she gave him a headache. She was fantastic. She was killing him and absolutely ruining his unlife. He couldn't even beg her for answers about the neon cheese, because if he managed to badger it out of her, it would prove she could be manipulated into telling secrets. That would be a loss anyway. It was more likely that either she didn't know anything or that she knew and her lips would stay sealed: Danny didn't have any to waste his breath.

He did a few calming rounds of breathing, now that he was thinking about it, and then went on with his day a bit invigorated by the familial aggravation.

Danny felt a little better about focusing on class now that he knew he could count on Jazz in his corner. She was the smartest person he knew. She could probably get him divorced by the end of the day. Hell, she probably already had a contingency plan for getting him a divorce. She was so ready for him to have a relationship so that he would have relationship problems to ask her about.

When he finished up on campus, Danny cut across town to pick up takeout food as an offering. He presented it to Jazz as soon as she opened the door, head bowed and food theatrically high.

“Oh, come in,” Jazz said, exasperated. She grabbed him by the back of his collar and bodily pulled him inside. “My neighbors are going to think I'm so weird, Danny!”

“My liege,” he intoned seriously. “I come bearing- ow! Stop hitting my- hey, my face!” Danny wrestled away from the horrible pinching grip his terrible sister had on his cheeks, scowling. “That hurt,” he complained. “Have you ever thought that you're getting caught up in the cycle of violence?”

“I don't lose sleep over it.” Jazz lowered herself delicately onto one of the weird puffs she had instead of chairs and made grabby hands at the takeout. “What did you get me?”

“Coal,” Danny snarked. But he handed over the bag without a fight and plopped himself onto the closest poof thing. He fully laid out and let his head flop past the edge to hang upside down.

“Inversion therapy, so chic,” Jazz said absently.

He considered flipping her off, but his balance was really off in this position and it would be hard to defend himself if she lunged at him. Hell, if she picked up his legs he'd probably tip over onto the floor. Danny dug his heels into the side of the poof in defensive preparation. He kept her in his peripheral vision.

“Oh, Malaysian,” Jazz enthused. “I wanted to have this!” She sounded a little too surprised.

He shot her a thumbs up. Two days ago, she'd sent him a screenshot of a text landing from someone else that had shown most of her screen was the active map app she was using to get to an appointment. The Malaysian restaurant had the star mark that she put on the places that she wanted to try.

He'd gambled that she hadn't gone yet because she hadn't had a late night at work. Jazz only got takeout with company or if she got home too late to cook.

“Cool,” Danny said, because he didn't want his rotten sister to think he cared about her interests. “It was on the way and it smelled good.”

Jazz hummed and put the food on the side table. “So I see.” She folded her fingers in front of her face and peered at him over the steeple. “What happened? What ghost do I need to soup with a fragrant combination of turmeric and saffron?”

“Please don't waste that, ghosts taste fine on their own,” Danny said.

Jazz grimaced. “Ew, Danny,” she enunciated carefully. She paused. “Ew.”

He shrugged and accidentally slipped a little closer to the floor. “Just saying. But actually, no one dead was involved, unless we count-”

“We don't count,” Jazz cut him off, serenely unbothered by his attempts to score empathy points off his death. She was a cold customer.

“Boo,” Danny said, because he knew his brand and respected ghost tradition. “Anyway, Jeremy Waters. Remember -”

“How could I forget,” Jazz muttered. She put her hands on her face.

“Hey,” Danny said, offended that Jeremy got that reaction and he got a big fat impassive nothing no matter how annoying he was.

“What’s Jeremy done?” Jazz sounded exhausted by the concept.

“Well… He uh.” Danny stared at the ceiling. He couldn't look at her directly. “Well. You know how he wants the good favor of the god of the underworld?”

“Yup.” Jazz hit the ‘p’ sound hard.

“He uh, hit the idea that uh. Maybe a Persephone of sorts was just the thing to suck up.”

He heard fabric rustle as Jazz sat up. “He did?”

Wow, she had one of the most fascinating ceilings in the world. Danny stared intently up at a splotch that looked vaguely malign. She ought to get that checked out by an expert before it possessed somebody. “Yeah, so he's been trying to vault people into the Ghost Zone as bridal sacrifices.”

“Ahuh.” Jazz sounded a little bit choked up. She wasn't laughing, so he couldn't complain.

“I had Dani get Vlad look into it-” because Dad or Mom would have been mortifying- “and apparently, he told her the odds of some hack wizard managing to send a living human to the ghost zone was laughable.”

He paused. He couldn't go on.

“And Vlad would know,” Jazz said leadingly.

Danny put a hand over his face. “Yeah, see, the thing is that I'm now very concerned that Vlad might not know.” His words came out muffled.

Jazz was so intent on him. He pretended even harder not to know she was leaning in towards him. “Does- does the ghost king have a bride, Danny?” She somehow managed in a professional tone.

He nodded miserably.

She promptly lost her shit laughing at his misfortune.

#red hot ghouls #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #dc fanfic

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yazthebookish · 3 months

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Hello my loves❤️!!

I've said that I do not intend to discuss anything HOFAS-related since I haven't read the book and I only know a few details I specifically asked.

But I read the beautiful, beautiful Bryce, Nesta, and Azriel Walmart chapter and I need to just gush about something. It's not the whole chapter but just small parts of it mostly relating to Azriel.

Disclaimer: I have no interest in engaging in ship discourse (annoy me and it's an immediate block) nor do I want someone to change my opinion because it will not be changed. I stick by what I read and interpret in these books and am quite happy and content with it 😉

⚠️ Bryce, Nesta, and Azriel Bonus Chapter Spoilers Ahead! ⚠️

And with each mile onward, she could hear Azriel humming softly to himself. The rolling, wild melody of "Stone Mother" flowed off his lips, and she could have sworn even the shadows danced at the sound.

Do you realize that the entire time Bryce was playing the songs on her phone, she made no comments on Azriel's shadows but towards the end when her phone's battery died and Azriel started humming to himself, then she made a note of the shadows dancing at his sound.

They did not dance to her songs, they dance to Azriel's humming and I find that so endearing!!

It proves my point again at the instances we get descriptions of Azriel's shadows singing are with positive connotations. Their dancing is not written to be nefarious or odd.

Pray tell, in the entire series when Az's shadows are described to be dancing, which scenarios triggered those actions? Mostly when it comes to Gwyn because if you search in every book you won't find a description of them dancing around someone except Gwyn. This is a point I've been making since ACOSF came out and I'll highlight them below:

• These excerpts are from Azriel's bonus chapter

"How was the party?" Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music.

Gwyn wasn't singing here, they were reacting to some silent music... which we can suspect as much is the mating bond? A bond Sarah described in ACOSF as music between souls?

Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer.

His shadows sang in answer. We don't know for sure if Gwyn was singing or it was something else but I'll bet on the latter since she was training and one of his shadows earlier darted out to dance with her breath as if it heard some silent music. It still reaffirms to me that it can hear the music between souls, the mating bond.

• This is from ACOSF (pg. 623) and keep in mind this is post-Solstice/Azriel's bonus chapter

Azriel clapped his hands, and all the females straightened. "You'll work in groups of three."

Gwyn asked Az, her teal eyes bright,

"What do we get if we finish the course?"

Az's shadows danced around him. "Since there's no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn't bother to get a prize."

One of the things I absolutely love when it comes to SJM's romances is she creates a common ground for the couple and gives them some things to bond and connect to.

In this instance, it's not only about Azriel's shadows but the fact that he also is fond of music. He doesn't express his fondness through dancing like Nesta, he hums to the tune. He sings.

Who else adores music and sings? Gwyn.

Who made Azriel admit that he sings? Gwyn.

These are not a coincidental connections.

And the author is a big fan of music so I think it's such a beautiful connection to create between two characters that have had such a dark and tragic past and are still processing the trauma they experienced.

The chapter did not give us much in terms of ships or who is Azriel into, but it did elaborate more on Azriel's fondness for music. It did elaborate on the genuine reactions of his shadows which were sometimes always framed in a negative way.

It also kind of proved my cute headcanon about whenever Azriel sings, his shadows dance around him.

I honestly can't wait for his book!! But first we have to tackle HOFAS so look forward to my reading updates in a few days!

#hofas #hofas spoilers #gwynriel #yaz reads hofas #yaz the bookish breaks her silence #okay yaz didn't read hofas I just want to keep it in that tag for future reference Lol

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teyamsatan · 9 months

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕍𝕀𝕀𝕀: 𝕊𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕣 ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕄𝕪 ��𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕕

pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!reader

synopsis: In the wake of your separation, your mind is made as to the future of your rocky relationship with your once best friend, now best enemy, Neteyam.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (mentions of violence, battle, blood, death, confrontation, admission of feelings), strong language.

wc: 6.7k words

a/n: besties, it brings me sorrow to say that monster in me has come to an end, and i can only hope you enjoy and have enjoyed this story, that turned from a silly little fic about two people who hate/crave each other into so much more than i ever envisioned. i really struggled writing this chapter, and i hope i don't disappoint with the ending, and i hope you like it. what i can say, is that this is not the end for Neteyam and Vi, as I have at least one more oneshot in mind to showcase their ... progress (hehe). having smut in this chapter didn't feel right to me, but it doesn't mean it's not coming ;) pun intended.

as always, thank you so much for reading and engaging with my stories and with me, it means more than I could ever express into words. I love you besties, and i hope you stick around for a long time, because i will x

na'vi compendium: txepvi - spark, oare - moon, nawm - great, tsakarem - tsa'hik in training, atokirina - seed of the tree of souls, sa'nok - mother, senpu - affectionate term for dad

lightly proof read, if you see something wrong, no you don't

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

Break my soul in two looking for you But you're right here

“Are you sure, ma ‘ite? You know we wouldn’t force you into anything, but… please think it through. Eywa’s vision was clear, and it showed you two together. Eywa is never wrong, you know this.”

You thought about it, barely able to look into Mo’at's beautiful, sagacious eyes that always felt like they could see through you, through deception and conceit, and get to the soul of problem, the inner core of your amalgamation of conflicting, earth-shattering emotions, covered by a crust of barely-there composure, ready to erupt with any slight friction of the tectonic plates of your heart. You thought about last night, about his words, that still rang in your ears in a muffled cacophony of sounds you were trying your hardest to drown out, that you were scared would end up drowning you, instead.

“I loved you, Vi.I fucking loved you. You were everything to me. And you broke me.”

“Even the smallest similarity killed me, reminded me how much I hate you, how much I want to, how much I don't. I've wanted to hate you so much, I tried so hard, but you were in every dream, in every fantasy, you haunted me my whole life."

You thought about his actions, about what drove them, about how, at the end of the day, they were the same driving forces that you acted on. Hurt. Betrayal. Jealousy. Fear. You thought about your actions. How poison crept beneath your skin and pooled in your heart and pumped it through your whole bloodstream, until it was all there was, until it blinded you, and how he started this, but you continued it.

How his fault was indifference, and yours was madness that only he had the power to force out of you. You thought about his parents, and how his dad was now your dad, and how hard you fought for hearing the magic words: “we couldn’t have done it without you, kid”. Those words, and the “you’re welcome” that followed, became as necessary to you as the air you breathe. It may have started, this need to gain Jake’s approval, as a way to get a rise out of Neteyam, your best attempt at getting him to lash out at you, scream and yell, anything but the horrible silence he ordained you with, but in time, it had less to do with the boy and more to do with you, with how his dad reminded you of your own, how the words of praise and admiration made the ones you were used to, that you’d never hear again, echo through the your tent and through the forest, hidden in between the whistles and sonorous trills of birds, but never forgotten, not to you.

You thought about his specious assumptions, and your words, and how, despite what you spat at him last night, they weren’t the whole truth. You did tell Jake that you didn’t want to mate with him, but not out of a lack of love or desire. No, the thought of one day being one with the boy who shone light through the broken cracks of your soul every day after your parents died, the boy who himself shone brighter than any star or sun or galaxy out there in the vast unknown, the boy who challenged you, and annoyed you, and loved you, and got you… it made you happy. It made butterflies flutter in your stomach and tingle, it made a fuzzy feeling gather in your brain and haze your mind until it was full of nothing but misty reveries, of a life beyond your wildest dreams and fantasies, of night flights and battles won together, of family found and family kept.

You told Jake what you did because your dreams couldn’t happen while you were pushed to the side and made to undertake the duties of a Tsakarem, they couldn’t happen if you had to forsake your talents and an integral part of yourself. You thought that, by saying no, you could make your dad proud, you could make Jake proud… make him proud. You thought that by becoming the warrior you knew you could one day be, you could help him… take away some of the burden that you knew he was shouldering all by himself, that of the eldest son, the responsible child, the prodigy of the clan. More than anything, you wanted to be worthy of him and of his love. That’s why you said no.

If I can't relate to you anymore Then who am I related to?

But now, it was all wrong. Your love, your hate, your history and your future, everything you’ve done, everything you should have done. It was all wrong. O’i’en was right, you realised. You held onto this broken relationship, this hopeless promise of a mateship, not because you wanted revenge, but because you wanted him… in any way you could get him. Your undefeated stubbornness, and the war that left too many collateral victims for you to ever be able to sleep at night again, led to scars in your soul no one could ever fix, that you’d have to mend yourself in time, that you never could while in an arrangement you should have declined to begin with. It was finally time…

“I’m sure, ma Tsa’hik.”

…time to say goodbye to the child you knew - the one you were, the one he was, and the love that took too much of both of you, the one that turned to ashes in your mouth.

And if this is the long haul How'd we get here so soon?

Neteyam’s confusion was normal for the dazed, quiet astir he found himself in after just waking up. What wasn’t normal, however, is how the confusion didn’t evaporate once the blurry haze disappeared, but only deepened with the sight, or lack thereof, awaiting him in the green, luscious clearing he felt like he was reclaiming, like it could slowly be his… both of yours again. He didn’t feel this way now, in this place that all of a sudden felt barren and cold, like an endless tundra, like his soul felt. You were gone.

In a way, it was to be expected. In some way, Neteyam knew last night was a just a fluke, a heady combination of overflowing of intense emotions that were too intense to be contained, that had to be released in the only way you both knew how, in the only way that would push the hurt aside and leave only a mess of denial and pleasure in its wake, because an orgasm is always easier to deal with than the pain that came with the cathartic act of confession, of owning up to your mistakes, of talking through years of hurt pent up in your already broken soul. You both did what you did best, so Neteyam shouldn’t be surprised. And yet he was.

He wasn’t only surprised, he realises. No, he would be happy if that was all he was. Neteyam was angry. Angry and seething, as he was, he picked himself up from the floor, the smell of you still imbedded in his nostrils, your cum still on him as he took in his naked form, before tightening his loincloth over his hips, a task easier said than done with the furious slashing of his tail whose movements he couldn’t control, no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t know why such intense, overpowering anger was washing over him in tidal waves that were crushing his spirit under their monstrous weight, removing any reason from his mind, any sane reasoning or critical thinking. Why would he expect you to stay? You didn’t owe him anything, and this changed nothing. Nothing’s different. Neither of you admitted to anything, neither were able to admit to the fault either of you had in the unraveling of your relationship, in the actions that lead to death and hurt, to pain and loss. So why did it matter?

"The first step in solving any problem is recognising there is one, brother. The sooner you admit your feelings, the sooner you can work towards fixing your broken relationship."

Did I close my fist around something delicate? Did I shatter you?

With a sigh, Neteyam made his way back to the village, hoping that once he saw you, all the answers would come rushing back to him, would make it perfectly clear as to the path he was supposed to take, the words that he was supposed to utter, which puerile confessions were better said and which better left gathering dust in the back of the rooms of his heart. When he saw you, he'd finally know...

The day was in full swing in the clan, as people were making the final preparations for the funeral processions that would take place once eclipse settled in. Neteyam winced at the mourning families, at the bodies laid on the floor, covered in leaves and flowers, in the way they'd remain, until their flesh would return to Eywa, return to the nature from which they were born, allowing for growth that would keep the community going. One life ends, another begins. That saying was as much part of him as any organ, any physical aspect of him was. That saying was the dogma of the Omaticaya, of the Na'vi as a whole. He knew it by heart, its meaning coursed through his veins, and yet, it didn't lessen the blow. It didn't stop the hurt and the pain of having to watch it, having to know to some extent, he was at fault for it.

He expected to see you by now, lending a hand, despite the fact you should be taking it easy - you were never one for rule following, and although you got better in time, especially after your blooming relationship with O’i’en, who, despite it killing Neteyam to admit, was a positive influence in your life, some things about you would never change. The need to help, to be of use, to prove your worth, the need to feel like you’re making an effort, the need to hide your pain deep inside yourself, no matter how hard life was grinding you down, it was intrinsic to you in a way you would never be able to shake. And so Neteyam was sure he'd see you here. But he didn't. Instead, he saw his mother, spotting him from across the patch of forest they called home, eyeing him intently, with a blend of emotions Neteyam couldn't quite place. There was a heaviness to her, which he couldn't say he felt surprised about, but the twinge of fear and pity in her eyes, clearly directed at her eldest son, was something he didn't expect to see, and it scared him. Without any thought, he tracked towards his family's tent, unable to break his gaze from her, whose own fell to the floor, before turning away and entering the home, the flaps swinging closed behind her, the sudden chasm between them putting a knot in Neteyam's throat. Something was wrong. What else could be wrong?

And I'm sitting on a bench in Coney Island Wondering, "Where did my baby go?"

"Sa'nok, nawm sa'nok, Oel Ngati Kameie."

His grandmother's permanent serious expression was somehow even more pronounced now, and Neteyam noticed the signs of weariness and exhaustion clear on her beautiful face. Still, with her most arduous attempt at a smile, she brought her curled fingers to her forehead and extended them in her grandson's direction, before giving her daughter a pointed look.

"What's going on?"

"Ma 'itan..."

The knot in his throat descended until it hit his stomach with a heavy splash, the feeling of dread nearly knocking him over.

"Mother, just tell me. Just please... tell me."

"She... she broke the engagement, Neteyam. What happened between you?"

The fast times, the bright lights, the merry-go Sorry for not making you my centrefold

The river that the Omaticaya used as a source of water, and nourishment, and entertainment, and hygiene, the one that was normally bustling with life and energy, was barren and deserted as you settled on its bank, leg mindlessly swinging back and forth in the cold, clear water. You focused on the way it felt, the flawless flow, as it touched your skin and how every once in a while, fish would nibble at your feet, and you were almost relieved that at least some creatures still looked at you like you were still alive. You didn’t feel like it, not anymore.

You didn’t feel like a Na’vi, like a person, more like a mix of pure grief and guilt that managed to swallow you whole, leaving just a cloud of misery in its wake. You knew you shouldn’t be here. There were better, more important things for you to do. Help was needed in the village, you needed to prepare for the ceremony, you needed to claim your ikran, wash her, cover her in the leafy shroud she would spend the rest of time in. You had to say goodbye. You owed her a proper funeral. You owed her a goodbye. And yet, your body was paralysed on the edge of this river, staring into nothingness, trying to find a way to make your mind, which was simultaneously empty and full of thoughts, each one more horrifying then the next, work and move your muscles, do the thing it always does where adrenaline takes over and makes you focus, makes you try, makes you brave. There was nothing now, not anymore.

Your ears twitched as the shrubbery rustled with movement behind you, and your scrunched nose relaxed as it picked up Jake's scent. Your coiled, immobile tail found its place nestled next to your thighs, and when you turned your head, you noticed your surrogate father, the mighty Olo'eyktan, dressed in ceremonial garbs, the red, feathery vest contrasting nicely against his dark, azure skin. You couldn’t look in his inquisitive, shocked eyes, that knew you to your core, the eyes that always looked at you with love and care, with pride and encouragement, that now you assumed would be filled with sorrow and disappointment, so you settled on looking at his headpiece, the imposing, oval stone a much more manageable sight right now.

"Kid..."

His feet picked up pace, the same way your heart did in your chest, and you let out a shocked, pained gasp as he kneeled by your side and took your body into his, his hand finding the back of your head and you melted in his embrace, listening to his erratic heartbeat that mirrored yours, that you focused on like a hymn, that pulled you out of stupor, and you watched as your tears stained his chest, before your hands found his back, tightening your grip on him.

"Sempu..."

"Shh, kid. It's ok. You're ok... we're gonna be ok."

Over and over, lost again with no surprises Disappointments close your eyes And it gets colder and colder When the sun goes down

Neteyam was trying to calm himself as he was pacing the floor of his grandmother's tent, so much so the rugs were now matted and torn. He couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe you. After everything, everything that has happened, everything you've both done... after losing O'i'en and Oare, after destroying his relationship and all his plans for the future, after promising him you would never undo this arrangement, after threatening him you'd both get to burn together... after everything... how could you do this?

The anger was all-consuming as it was lighting his every nerve on fire, as it was playing back, in his mind, over and over, your relationship, your rise and fall, the fall that never seemed to end, no matter how hard he wished for it to end, no matter how hard he didn't. He thought about how broken you both were now that the the fall did come to its unsightly end, and how it left you both in pieces, in sharp shards that found each other's flesh to dig into and lacerate, unable to stop yourself from falling apart around each other even at the bitter final act. He thought about how he should be relieved. It was all he wanted, right? You out of his life. He could go back to the girl, the girl he didn't love, no matter how hard he tried, to the life he was once envisioning for himself. If you truly gave up on him, on your quest for revenge, he should be happy. All he's wanted for the past seven years was you out of his life, right? If all you had and all you were was over... if the nightmare was over, that meant a new dawn would be breaking soon. He should want it... right?

And maybe he would want it, maybe he would be happy about it, if only there wasn't this intense hatred blinding him to the truth of the matter, to the potential this new revelation opened up in his life. Because fuck, things changed. Things changed when Oare died, when his sister talked to him, things changed when you woke up, when he found you in the clearing... things changed when you slept together. He told you things, things he didn't even know he felt, but he did feel, as you came around him, as he saw your face writhing in pleasure when you left scratches down his back. He saw your eyes as they locked with his, and in your eyes, for just a moment, there were confessions that maybe you didn't speak out loud, but maybe you didn't have to.

And then... you just... left. You left him, abandoned him without a word, or an explanation, without as much as a disdained "good riddance, asshole". How could you have done this, after everything that's happened? After everything, Neteyam felt like he deserved at least that... or anything, but not this. Not the silence, not to be told about it by his mother. He deserved more than this.

His legs stilled in place and his stomach dropped as your words, the words you shouted at him yesterday kept rushing back to him like the river after a storm, unrelenting and powerful, ready to knock out everything in their wake.

“You keeping your mouth shut and going about your life as if your life wasn’t impermeably connected to mine was what fucking hurt me, Neteyam!"

"You saying nothing, doing nothing, acting like I didn’t exist, like I was just a toy you outgrew, that was worse than anything I could have ever fucking done to you, don’t you understand that?"

"Do you understand that you abandoned me? I was everything to you, and you just acted like that meant nothing at all."

Fuck.

Do you miss the rogue Who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Jake." you tried to contain the cries, you did, but as he held you tightly to his chest, caressing your almost-dry braids and cooing patiently in your ear, it was harder than you could manage in the moment. The sobs were loud and coming out in broken hiccups, but you couldn't find it in you to care anymore, and he didn't seem to mind.

"I did this, we did this... Neteyam and I, this stupid war, all the fights, and the battles, and the never-ending need to make the other pay... and all for nothing! All for something he heard, something I said, that I-... If he just asked, I could have told him, I could have explained, I -... fuck!"

"Shh... hey, look at me, kid." His fingers found your chin, that he raised, despite your silent protests, and you were taken aback by his own tears falling down his face, by the unending depth of emotion behind his beautiful, yellow irises, that reminded you a little too much of his eldest son.

"This wasn't your fault, baby girl. It was mine."

"I love you, you know? So much. I look at you, and I see Neytiri, and I see myself. I see your parents, I see this clan, that I chose to be a part of, that I'm grateful for every day of my life. This clan, this family I have, that includes you, this planet... it saved me from myself, from a broken path. And the thought of losing you, losing any of it... it haunted my every dream, it turned into a recurring nightmare that kept me up at night. So I did the only thing I knew how - I tried to mould you into the soldiers I knew you needed to be in order to survive the humans and their poisoned reach, their need to hurt and kill."

You were in awe of his monologue, that you didn't want to - you couldn't - interrupt. You needed to hear this, and he needed to speak it, and so you waited, and listened, and he spoke and cried.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. A father protects. But I failed to recognise how that would affect you, how much the pressure I put on your shoulders, on Neteyam's shoulders, would come to hurt you, to push you to this point. My words and my actions were what drove you both to the dark place you find yourselves in right now, and I'm sorry."

You tightened your grip on him yet again, and let his words sink in you, pass through you. You let them succumb you, like the water in the lake as it took over your body, until you were submerged in it, until you were a different person as you emerged back into the world.

"I'm still learning, kid. We all are... We all make mistakes, and sometimes the mistakes hurt and they cut and they fester, sometimes they are big enough to take over your whole world and eclipse any light shining through. But... people deserve a second chance. People deserve to be able to make amends, to fight to show you they can do better. And I hope I'm one of those people. And I hope Neteyam is, too. I think you two were meant for each other - I saw it every day of your lives, from when you were best friends to best enemies, you completed each other, complemented each other. You made each other better... and worse. But maybe that shows that one of you can't exist without the other. That maybe the connection you have is more than anything life can throw at you, or that you can throw at each other. Maybe it's time for both of you to get a second chance."

Will you forgive my soul When you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?

Neteyam felt dizzy and nauseous, a sudden need to anchor himself onto the ground more necessary than he could ever remember feeling. Seven years worth of mistakes came rushing over him, ready to swallow him whole. Is this how you felt? This whole time... this is how you felt? So insignificant and small, so used... abandoned, angry and heartbroken... just how he felt. He made you feel this way, he made 12 year old Vi, the person he loved most in the world, feel this way. You left him, just as he left you, and now Neteyam finally could see, finally understood, that you were right. It was worse. The not knowing, the self-doubt and guilt, the feeling like you were nothing more than a toy, ready to be outgrown, knowing you were disposable to someone you thought loved you... it was worse.

He knew he had to find you, he had to, he had to talk to you, he had to tell you all the words his heart was begging him to shout of the top of his lungs, begging him to stop holding inside of it, for it was done keeping his secrets, for all it wanted was to feel again, to dream again... to love again. But it would have to wait. Just a little bit more, it would have to wait, because right now, Oare needed him. Oare would be put to her eternal rest today, and before the ceremony, she still needed to be cleaned and prepared, and while you might not feel capable of facing such a challenge right now, he could do this for you. This he could do, and would, because he needed to, and he knew, deep down, you did, too.

It took a long time, but near eclipse, the ikran was ready, and Neteyam felt a pang of hurt taking in her beauty, so ethereal and extraordinary, so much like the person who came to call her a sister. The person whose voice stopped Neteyam dead in his tracks and sent shivers down his spine.

“Neteyam…?”

When he turned, and saw you, eyes puffy and red, filled with tears that weren’t the first you were shedding, based on the deep stains on your beautiful face, your chest heaving in panted, uneven breaths, released in soft, sorrowful sobs, he couldn’t help in himself, and with a few steps, he closed the distance between you and enveloped you in a tight, rib-cracking hug, one that, to his unending relief, you reciprocated immediately.

“She’s dead, Neteyam… she’s really dead. I wasn’t there for her and now she’s dead.” You were sobbing in his chest, and he tried not to let the moment overwhelm him, this moment that felt more like dreams he’s had than the reality he had to live through, ones in which you came to him, and let your guard down, one in which he got to comfort you instead of bring you pain, ones in which you were his and he was yours, one in which things were good, and pure, like you were.

Were you waiting at our old spot In the tree line, by the gold clock? Did I leave you hanging every single day?

“I’m surprised you’re still alive after today’s training. Dad’s not going easy on you, is he?” Neteyam looked at the little girl, laying on the ground, chest heaving, with eyes of steely determination he doesn’t think are like anything he’s ever see before, and how the tears that pooled in your eyes refused to drop, no matter how oversaturated they got. The tears just didn’t drop. He watched intently, determined to see the first one fall, determined to prove to himself that a girl who’s never trained before, a girl who just lost her parents, a girl who was not from a family of warriors, like his was, wouldn’t be able to withstand the pressure that his father never failed to put on him, and he now seemed intent on putting on you.

But much to his surprise, the tears never did fall. Instead, you got up, canines sunk in so deeply, the blood was pouring out of your lower lip - anything to stop the sob of pain he knew you wanted to let out. When you were on your feet again, you ran your hands over your bloodied knees, where the gashes were still spilling red liquid from when you fell off a cliff and scraped them, before shaking them dry. Neteyam watched in awe as the blood dripped from your fingers and into the ground, and all of a sudden, he was left behind, your footsteps echoing through the forest as you made your way back to the practice arena.

“Guess he knows I can take it.”

Were you standing in the hallway with a big cake? Happy birthday Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray? A universe away

"Have you ever considered, Neteyam, that I'm not your enemy? I see you, waiting for me to fail, praying that your dad... and my dad, were wrong about me. Have you ever considered I could help? That if I do this, you don't have to be alone anymore?"

Neteyam's eyes went as wide as his mouth as you turned to face him once more, a soft smile on your face and crinkles around your eyes, that almost hid the soft tears that dropped down your cheeks and mingled with the blood as they reached your lips, and he felt his heart skip a beat, and then two, then three... What was happening to him?

"I'm alone, too. I'm all alone. And I'm scared... of being alone. Of ending up alone. And I think you are, too. So maybe... maybe we can be alone together."

Almost as if controlled by a disembodied presence, Neteyam's body started moving on its own accord until it reached you, until his hand was in your extended one, a peace symbol you both learnt from the once-human Olo'eyktan.

“Friends?”

“Friends.”

And when I got into the accident The sight that flashed before me was your face But when I walked up to the podium I think that I forgot to say your name

“I know… I’m so sorry, Vi.” His hands found your face, that he angled upwards to look into your eyes, holding you tightly, as if letting go meant letting go forever, and he couldn’t, not anymore, not until he told you what he needed to say. Your warm breath brought life into him as he inhaled it, and the courage given by the revelations that loomed over him his entire life, but were only manifested today, it was enough to speak the words nestled in his chest.

“I’m so sorry… not just about Oare, but about everything. Vi, you were right. I did this, I started this. I should have… I should have trusted you, and confided in you. I should have given you the respect you deserved, the consideration of telling you what hurt me. You deserved the chance to explain your point of view, and I took that from you. What you said hurt me… what my dad said hurt me, but… you were my best friend, and I should have come to you. I should never have let you go, Vi. I’m so sorry.”

The words you've waited for what seemed like your whole life opened the dam of your soul, so carefully put together over so many years, now broken as it flooded your whole being with the full force of the sorrow and relief you've buried so deep, you didn't even know if you'd be able to ever make it surface again. But there it was, and his words brought your own forth, and with Jake's words in mind, with lessons of forgiveness and second chances learnt, you spoke, hoping he'd listen, hoping these words could undo at least some of the hurt you put the other through.

“I’m sorry, too. Teyam, I’m so sorry. After losing my parents, you, this family, were all I had. You were everything to me, and I came to rely on you so much, I couldn’t envision life without you. When you left, it broke something in me. It brought back feelings I was yet to deal with, ghosts that haunted me in the middle of the night, insecurities that continue to plague me to this day, fears of being unlovable, of being too much, of not being enough. I have always been too harsh, too guarded, I have always answered every problem with my fists first and my mind second. I’ve never known how to deal with grief, and so I did it in the only way I knew how - by turning it to anger. By making you the enemy. Every time your absence hurt, I needed my presence to hurt you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being cruel, I’m sorry for taking it too far. I’m so sorry.”

It was necessary, this moment that was long overdue, and although you were sorrowful of the fact it took losing so much for you to realise it, you were grateful that did come in the end. You were happy that, as you moved your head slightly to rest your ear against his chest, listening to his slowly-calming heartbeat, you felt safe again in his embrace while you finally took in your sister’s body, that he spent more time that you could even conceive getting her ready for the ceremony, when you didn't. You were grateful that you didn’t have to go through it by yourself, but with the one person who’s known Oare just as long as you, who’s loved her just as much as you loved Seze, the person who despite it all, knew you to your core - your biggest dreams, your biggest worries, your biggest fantasies, your biggest fears. And here it was, the biggest fear, manifested in front of you like a sleep-paralysis demon, that you had no choice but to brave through, but at least, right in this moment, you didn’t have to brave it alone.

"Thank you. For taking care of her while I couldn't."

"You don't have to thank me. So many things might have changed between us, but this... this never will."

The ceremony was as hard on you as you expected, and by the end, you were so spent, both physically and emotionally, you knew you were in dire need of a nap, one that didn't end in the morning, and maybe not for a few good days. You looked over at Neteyam, who kept his distance, allowing you to be caged in between Lo'ak and Kiri's bodies while you mourned, but who helped you lower Oare into the tree nook where she would lay forever, shedding silent tears as he placed an atokirina on her, his hand finding your lower back as you both said your final goodbyes.

One day, you'd find another ikran. One day, you'll be able to fly again, and think of flying as the beautiful, freeing experience you have come to rely on for your sanity and happiness for the last 7 years. One day. But not today. And not for a long time. Oare made your life special, and worth living. Flying meant what it did to you in no small part because of her. Her thoughts, peaceful and serene, a nice balance to your own, kept you steady and focused in battled, mid flight. Not being able to return the favour would be something you'll have to deal with in time, but as you felt your entire family's presence surrounding you, enveloping you in love and care, as you felt Neteyam's lips make contact with the side of your head in a gesture you've known him capable of, just not with you, you knew, one day, you'll be okay again.

'Cause we were like the mall before the internet It was the one place to be The mischief, the gift-wrapped suburban dreams

It was hot and humid in the forest as you trained - something about the deforestation brought about by the humans made the weather feel hotter, or so the human scientists told you. Either way, you felt as though you were inhaling water instead of air as you tried to catch your breath, the last drill always the hardest in the routine, always the one that broke most Na’vi who were unfortunate enough to be considered good enough to be trained directly by Toruk Makto himself… but not you. You did it, feeling fire in your lungs and sweat mingling with the blood spilling from various cuts from across your body and exacerbating the sting you felt prickling like needles throughout your whole being. Each muscle felt like it was being split in half, but you couldn’t care less. Not now, not when you were so close to beating Neteyam, not when victory would feel so sweet, not when you would be able to collapse in the dirt and pass out the moment it was over.

In the few months since the ceremony, life was more about healing for you than it had ever been. It was a nice change of pace, the peace, one you haven’t known since your parents were still alive, and for the first time in your life, you felt… almost whole. There were still things missing of course - your parents, who you kept in thoughts and prayers every day, and your sister, who you swore Eywa reincarnated in your new ikran, whose thoughts reminded you too much of hers for it to be mere coincidence.

“Vi, you better focus if you want to have any chance at beating me.”

You scoffed, and watched as he flew past you, not before sending a small wink your way, that made you lose your footing for a second, before quickly composing yourself and continuing.

“Don’t get cocky, mighty warrior.”

As far as your relationship with Neteyam went, it took a long while, but in time, you managed to mend what once seemed unmendable and earn each other’s trust once more. It was an uphill battle, most days, but you were grateful to have your best friend back, and to be able to finally meet the Neteyam everyone knew and loved, the one that was kind and considerate, funny and charming, helpful and loving to everyone around him. You were grateful that now, that included you, too. Your mateship was never brought up again, not to the family, that knew you needed this time, and was happy to let you have it. The possibility of it was no longer looming over you like a threat, but more like a golden aura of inevitability that you wouldn’t mind giving into, once the pieces were soldered back together through the mutual effort you were both willing to put into to rebuild both your broken hearts. One day he'd be yours and you'll be his…

But not today, as he beat you, with just barely a split second to spare.

“Ah, that’s too bad… maybe one day. One day, you’ll beat me at this, and on that day, Vi, I will fall to my knees in eternal servitude.”

When you kicked him in the shin, with all your might, and watched as he fell on his knees in front of you, you smirked, the grin wild and unwavering as you circled him, lifting his chin with your index finger and willing him to look in your eyes, mischievous and filled with amusement.

“Hmm, look! You’re already on your knees, Teyam. Now… about the eternal servitude…”

You had no time to react as he grabbed your wrist in his hand and pulled you towards him, until you both fell on the ground, and when he kissed you, you melted, like you normally did in the few times it has happened since that first time, in your clearing. You promised you’d take it slow, but in your defence, you were only Na’vi, and this was, in fact, a lot slower than how you wanted to take it.

You let his fingers roam your body and rejoiced at the way his lips were warm and skilled as they moved on yours, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before you parted them, allowing yourself the pleasure of this kiss, that meant so much to you, that you will never ever take for granted again.

“You taste fucking amazing, tsxepvi. Maybe next time, if you apologise and behave, you’ll actually get to cum.”

You both laughed in the kiss, and with a mental note to yourself to apologise and behave tonight, you knew you were ready to take the next step in this new life, one which neither you or Neteyam would ever have to brave alone ever again. When your lips parted, and he got up from the ground with a soft groan, images of your childhood flashed before your eyes, warm and beautiful, once more, as he stretched out a hand for you. You took it gratefully, allowing him to help you rise, making a silent promise to yourself to commit to more risings than falls, for as long as you could help it.

"Friends?"

"Friends."

The sight that flashed before me was your face Over and over, when the sound goes down

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melrodrigo · 10 months

Text

Tardy, part 4

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: You take Tara on the long awaited first date, how will it go?

Warnings: Suggestive themes, so much fluff you might throw up, teeny bit of angst

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This is purely a filler chapter because R and Tara deserve a break, here’s some fluffy shit. I’m not really sure how I feel about it, but as always; thank you for the love!

In the end, it doesn’t take you that long to plan the date.

It might be because you’ve been dreaming about this moment for months, or it’s just that easy being with Tara.

There was a famous festival happening soon, and you’ve always wanted to take a girl there. Do all the cliche things, win her a bear; ride the Ferris wheel; make out in a secluded alleyway.

“So where are we going?” Tara muses as she sidles close to you.

You raise an eyebrow at her, “That desperate already?”

She rolls her eyes, “I think we established that already.”

“What are you two lovebirds whispering about?” Mindy asks from the couch. Sam’s eyes immediately narrow.

Please don’t mess this up for me, Mindy.

“Oh nothing, just talking about how hot YN looks today,” Tara answers quickly, smirking as you turn red.

Sam grimaces at her statement, mumbling something not-so-nice under her breath.

Chad’s also been particularly gloomy today, after overhearing a conversation between Mindy and Tara about your date.

He’s shut off every attempt Tara’s made at small talk, shooing her off with a not-so-subtle glare.

You can see it in her stance, her shoulders somewhat sagged; she’s burdened by it.

You wait until Tara leaves (gets forced) by Sam to go for a grocery trip.

Sam claims it’s for “sister bonding time”, all the while Tara is screaming and crying trying to get out of her sister’s grip.

You manage to calm her down by pressing a kiss to Tara’s forehead and whispering that she should go. She pouts but hesitantly leaves.

As soon as the door closes, you turn and make your way to Chad in the living room. Mindy gets up, shooting you a look before leaving you guys alone.

You sit beside Chad on the couch, feet bouncing; eyes staring at the ceiling.

He’s silent; too silent for your liking.

A few minutes pass before you think that maybe you should bail, you didn’t have to do this right now.

“Did you have to mess everything up?” He finally speaks, voice hot.

You roll your eyes, of course, he was going to be dramatic.

“Tara picked me. Respect her opinion bro.” You say, malice laced with the last word.

He doesn’t budge, ”She would’ve picked me if you didn’t swoop in. I was this close.”

He makes a gesture with his hands, pinching them together. You feel the anger rising in you steadily.

But for the sake of Tara, and peace altogether; you don’t make a scene.

“The heart wants what it wants, I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Chad groans, but you can tell he softens up a bit; body language opening up.

He hesitates before speaking again.

“I’m- I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to fall for Tara. I just couldn’t help it, you know?”

He looks like he’s fighting tears. You can’t help but feel bad; he was just a lovesick boy.

You sigh and pat his back gently.

“I know,” You murmur, “And I get it, truly I do. But Tara’s made up her mind, and I’ve certainly made up my mind; so stop acting like a man-child and be a good friend. She’s going through a hard time right now.”

Your words linger in the air before Chad breathes out heavily.

“You’re…you’re right. I hate to admit it but you’re right.” He says it like he’s just realizing it now himself.

“I’m sorry too, I know it’s hard to see happen right in front of you..” You trail off, reminiscing on a certain someone from your past. You snap out of it when Chad speaks again.

“I won’t be a jerk to Tara, I promise. Can’t guarantee I won’t be a little snappy to you though.”

You breathe out in relief, nodding and sticking your hand out to him.

“That’s fair.” Is what you say, and he takes you in a firm handshake. Laughs a little bit.

“I can’t believe Tara likes a dork like you.” He says, gesturing to your hand with a nod of his head.

You chuckle slightly.

“I can’t either.”

The butterflies are fluttering so wildly in your stomach at this point you think they might just force their way up and out your mouth.

It’s the date.

You fidget with your fingers, sitting on the couch waiting for Tara to come out. You check the time on your wristwatch, you guys have to move soon if you want to fit all the activity plans you’ve set up.

“Tar? You done?” Your voice cracks a little, and you’re extremely grateful Tara can’t see your face right now.

You cough to hide it.

“Wait! I’ll be done in five.” She yells. You would believe her if it wasn’t the millionth time she’s said it in the past hour.

“Yeah, five hours.” You mumble.

“Shut up!“

Your ears perk up, blushing in embarrassment that she heard you.

You sit obediently until Tara opens the door, dressed in black overalls with a white t-shirt inside.

It’s not much, but it’s not like you have to do much when you look like that.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel your heartbeat race impossibly faster.

“You done? Or are you just going to keep gawking at me til I make you move?”

God, she was annoying.

You shake your head, snapping out your love-filled daze. “Yeah yeah, let’s go superstar.”

The drive there calms you down a bit. The minute you got into your car Tara had taken hold of the AUX, happily DJ-ing for the trip.

You’re quite the music freak, but you didn’t mind her controlling it this one time.

You knew it was worth it when you watched her scroll through her playlist, eyebrows furrowed; a slight frown on her face in concentration.

God, she was adorable.

You blink, surprised by your own thoughts. Jesus, this was worse than you thought. This girl had you saying shit like that?

Tara finally stops scrolling and presses one triumphantly. Glue song by Beabadobee and Clairo starts playing.

It’s a cute song, and it relaxes your nerves and helps you loosen up.

By the time you’re there, you feel normal; good even. It’s just another day with Tara, comfortable, and loving.

It’s hard not to smile like an idiot, taking her hand in yours and dragging her over to the carnival opening.

It’s amazing. The lights, the endless games, the mouthwatering food.

You stand agape, unsure of where to go first. Thankfully, it looks like Tara’s in the same boat.

Her eyes lock in on something and she gasps.

“There! There’s a haunted house over there, let’s go!” She’s like a child with the excitement that radiates off her.

You raise an eyebrow.

“We just got attacked by Ghostface and you want to go into a haunted house?”

She shrugs, disregarding your statement.

“Doesn’t matter, I love haunted houses.”

Hm. That’s kind of psychotic. You decide it’s sort of hot.

You nod, and Tara brightens up; practically dragging you over in a hurry.

“Two tickets please.” You tell the teenager working the booth; who looks like they would rather be doing anything but this.

She hands you the tickets and you and Tara stand hand in hand, waiting in front of the big house.

“You scared?” Tara smirks, eyeing your nervous mannerisms.

“In your dreams.” You return.

Turns out, you might’ve really been in Tara’s dreams because that was one hell of a haunted house. You’re pretty sure you almost shit yourself at some point.

It’s not so bad when you remember how Tara would flinch and retract back into you though.

It’s pathetic how a single touch could turn scary into euphoric.

You guys scour the whole carnival after that, giggling as you bump tiny cars with each other, ride all the rollercoasters; well, all the rollercoasters that allowed a 5’0 person to be on.

Tara pulls you into a tent, lights dimmed and kisses you like her life depends on it. Hands grabbing at your face, a soft groan leaves her lips as you bite down on her bottom lip.

You briefly feel sand beneath your feet, and you don’t pay much mind to it; until the sound of big theater lights turns on and shines into your eyes. You and Tara practically jump away from each other, startled.

You’re met with the sight of children and adults alike; staring straight at you. They’re sitting on connecting chairs, mouths wide open.

You look around for the first time and notice the humongous red ball, the striped hoops, and the elephant hiding behind the back curtain.

Oh.

You speak fast before you can make it much worse.

“Sorry ‘bout that folks, consider it a little preshow!” You bow, and quickly take Tara’s hand, running out of the tent and into the carnival again.

Tara’s giggling so hard that she has to stop and catch her breath.

“Oh my god, I’m going to cry.” She manages to squeak out as she puts a hand over her stomach to calm down.

The rest of the night is spent in bliss, the food is amazing, and the lights reflecting on her face makes her somehow more beautiful.

You manage to win her a little teddy bear, and she beams as she pulls it into her side. She doesn’t let go of the bear for the rest of the night.

When you guys get back to the apartment, climbing in by the window to avoid Sam; Tara’s still giggling slightly.

You pull her forward and wrap her in your arms. It isn’t a very “first date” move, but the beer you had at the carnival must be making you extra confident.

“How was that for a first date?” You muse, brushing your nose against hers.

Tara looks flushed as she answers.

“It was good.” She says, voice high. It only helps your confidence boost higher.

“Would you want to go on another one?” You whisper, eyes flitting down to her lips and back to her other eye.

Triangle method, gotcha.

Tara leans impossibly closer, centimeters away from your lips.

She’s breathing heavily, and it takes everything in you not to kiss her. You want to make sure she wants it; you’ll let her take her time.

“I definitely would. Are you gonna ask me to be your girlfriend?”

Her words take you by surprise, eyebrows raising.

“Bold,” You murmur. “But yes, Tara, will you be my girlfriend?”

She nods, but it’s barely visible because she’s so close to you. It’s getting harder by the second to not just take her face in your hands and kiss her until she can’t breathe.

“Absolutely.” And she closes the gap between you two, kissing you softly; with emotion, with passion.

You sigh a little at the kiss. Who knew Tara Carpenter was such a romantic?

It turns heated fast, and you guys don’t stop, not even when you hear the front door open and the sound of Sam’s voice ringing.

It’s not until Sam actually opens the door to Tara’s bedroom that you break away and try to turn your face.

The look on her face is mixed with disgust and that lingering suspicion she always has when she sees you.

You can’t stare very long though, because Tara’s already pulling your face back; desperate to keep your attention and taking you in a searing kiss.

You hear Sam scoff, but it sounds a million miles away.

“Go away, Sam,” Tara says against your lips, and you can’t help but smile at her daring attitude.

Surprisingly, Sam does. Walking to her room with a sigh, probably knowing that if she started an argument she would lose.

Tara doesn’t waste any time pushing you down on her bed, straddling your waist; lips still fused together.

She grinds on you just slightly as she lets out a huff.

“You’re in for one long night.”

Tara’s a little wobbly the next day, and you’re shining; proud glint in your eyes.

You both look like crackheads, smiling bright; and you can tell it bugs Sam by the way she leaves the room when you enter.

When Tara walks over and sits directly in your lap, it seems to send Sam over the edge because she stands abruptly; announcing to everyone that she’s leaving to go to the station.

“The police station? Why are you going there?” You ask, cocking your head to the side.

Sam grabs her phone and wallet as she answers, “Detective Bailey called. He says he wants to meet me. Talk about something with Ghostface.”

Tara perks up in your lap, “Ghostface? Does he have leads?”

Sam shrugs and continues making her way through the hallway and out the front door.

Tara turns to you and gives you a quick peck. She doesn’t have to say anything, you understand her perfectly. She’s going to go with Sam.

You nod in understanding, letting go of your hands around her waist.

There’s not much to do when Tara’s gone, so you decide to go take a quick shower. Trying to make breakfast was a disaster, and there might’ve been a couple of flour stains and egg yolk on you.

It’s nice, peaceful. You feel like you’re on cloud 9, yesterday and today was like a dream.

The illusion shatters when you step out of the shower and find 3 missed calls from Tara. Worry immediately pangs in you.

You hurriedly click into her contact and press the dial button. It’s cut off immediately.

“Shit.” You mumble, wrapping a towel around yourself and rushing out of the bathroom.

You get dressed in record time, don’t explain to the rest of the gang where you’re going; curious eyes on you.

The trip to the station is a short one, well it’s short because you’re literally speeding there; hands gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turn white.

You practically burst through the doors, startling the hoard of officers sitting down.

You stop, hold a hand up; and catch your breath for a second.

“Where’s…where’s Detective Bailey?”

A worried-looking front desk officer is the one who answers you. Leads you to the interrogation, makes you wait in front of it.

You fiddle with your thumbs, head low as you wait in front of the tiny room. They take 10 more minutes, but it feels like hours to you.

When the door opens, you leap out of your seat and take Tara in a bear hug.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t answer, I was in the shower.” You mumble into her hair, and you’re so caught up with being rejoiced she’s alive that you don’t notice that she doesn’t hug you back.

She pulls away, and swerves your attempt at kissing her, turning her head so your lips only brush her cheeks.

Sam looks at you; angry energy radiating off her body.

You suddenly feel weird, like the atmosphere has shifted.

You frown and peer down at Tara’s face. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, tight expression.

“Tara?”

“Let’s just go home. I’m not going to do this here.” She says.

Your brows furrow. “Do what?”

She doesn’t answer, but she does let you entwine your pinky fingers as you walk out, and you rejoice a little.

The walk to their apartment is silent, only interrupted by a couple of jabs from Sam at you.

It isn’t until you enter Tara’s room; door closed that she turns on you, with an expression you don’t recognize.

“Why did they find your DNA at the crime scene?”

#tardy #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader #scream vi #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x reader #vada cavell x reader

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honeyedmiller · 5 months

Text

Law of Attraction—Chapter Four: Moth to A Flame

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: professor!joel, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel mid 40’s), no outbreak!joel, plus size!reader, consensual professor / student relations, so much fucking angst, lots and lots of emotions, talks of the struggles of being plus sized, smut (f oral receiving, unprotected piv), arguing, crying, mentions of a terrible past relationship, this chapter is just literal heartbreak. no description of reader other than being plus sized. mood board is for aesthetic purposes only.

word count: 4.7k

a/n: i gotta say, this chapter is kinda self indulgent. had a fwb for two whole years that literally made me go crazy emotionally and I finally willingly ended it this year… so a lot of this is kinda how i felt during my experience w this. also, huge shoutout to @party-hearses for literally holding my hand through this every step of the way. idk what i’d do without you, dude. love you to pieces.

chapter synopsis: there’s only so much you can do as your feelings for joel bubble to the surface.

It’d been around a month since Joel made you the offer.

The offer that made your stomach twist into knots every time you thought about it too much.

You’d pretended everything was fine and that you were okay with the whole ordeal, when in reality, you felt sick every time it crossed your mind.

You could’ve easily just told Joel you didn’t want to go through with it anymore. You knew that.

But something in your heart was tugging and pulling and hoping and fucking wishing he’d change his mind, say fuck the whole friends with benefits thing and just want to be with you.

You could’ve told him no more, but with the way he looked at you like you were the only woman in the world when you were completely vulnerable with him, slotting himself between your legs, pushing into you, an adoring stare with every drag of himself in and out of you—how could you confront him? How could you lose the one thing you had hoped for?

It sounded pathetic. Maybe it was.

There was no denying it anymore, though. You’d fallen hard for the very man that swept you off your feet. But, that’s also the problem—what goes up, must always come down. Your emotions were everywhere, and it wouldn’t be long before you knew you’d start spiraling.

You didn’t want to tell Adrienne how you felt, and it’s not because she’d ever tell you I told you so. No, it was more so the fact that you were too prideful and you didn’t want to show her how vulnerable this has made you—how vulnerable he’d made you.

This is not the woman you used to be.

Maybe there’s something sweet in being soft and allowing yourself to succumb to someone’s desires for you, but not like this. Not to you. You wanted Joel in a way you’re sure he could never accept, and that broke your heart into a million pieces.

To, dare you say, love someone who will never feel the same way was the most gut wrenching, grueling feeling.

You had to tuck away those feelings in a box that you’d shove under your bed and forget about, though, because graduation was coming up in just two days.

Your last finals were today, and despite your mess of emotions and feelings, you were excited to finally graduate. You were proud of yourself for sticking to your goals.

You stared up at the dress you got for graduation, now hanging up on your closet with your regalia. Finding a dress was so much harder than you anticipated, and it made the whole shopping experience miserable.

The only thing that kept you going during that whole try-on process was Joel’s words replaying in your head about how beautiful you were and how much he adored your curves.

While it was nice that he thought that of you, you became disappointed in yourself for allowing yourself to thrive off of his validation. You’d spent so long trying to build your confidence from the ground up to where you didn’t need validation from others to feel beautiful. You were never reliant on anyone to make you feel secure within yourself, and you sure as hell didn’t want to start now.

The drive to school was silent. Soft tunes of a Fleetwood Mac song played over your car speakers as you mindlessly drove to campus. Your first final was in Professor Sanchez’s class, and your last one was in Joel’s. You weren’t particularly looking forward to seeing him today.

You’d been feeling like shit about the whole situation since you both last fucked, which was a couple of days prior at his house. Instead of fucking in his office like usual, he’d invited you over for a drink, following up with mind-blowing sex in his king-sized bed.

You were surprised at first, thinking you’d never see inside the four walls of his sanctuary. It was a lot more homey than you’d anticipated it would be. Lots of family photos on the walls; cozy, worn-in furniture decorated the space in a way that flowed well; big stacks of books and a huge collection of DVDs that surrounded his TV. His neatly made bed was centered in his room, adorned by the ample amounts of the May sun that’d shone through his windows.

You only got to look around his bedroom for a few seconds before his lips were on yours, hands roaming your curves as he undressed you in record time. After he’d fucked you well, he pulled you into his side and caressed your body in a soothing, comforting way.

The sex part of it all wasn’t the complicated thing. No, it was the way he fucking looked at you after you both were catching your breaths, fucked-out, dopey smiles on your faces as you stared at each other. He looked at you with such sincerity and gentleness. There was a passion behind his eyes that sparked every time his eyes scanned your features.

A wanting desire. A carnal need far beyond something that was just friends with benefits. You saw it in his eyes.

This is why you were so back-and-forth with your emotions toward him and this whole situation. It was your way of justifying why you should stay and give this a chance. There was just that little sliver of hope, and that hope is what you clung on to as if your life depended on it. That hope was the only thing keeping you from completely breaking down.

You found yourself aimlessly walking into Professor Sanchez’s class. Everything was a blur. Taking your seat, receiving instructions for your final exam, taking said final exam. It was you simply going through the motions, barely even registering that you’d never step foot into his classroom again.

You had a twenty minute gap between Professor Sanchez’s class and Joel’s. You knew you should at least fuel your brain with a small snack before going into his class, but your stomach was in knots again.

Agreeing to be friends with benefits with Joel was a bad idea. You knew it, Adrienne knew it, and hell, even Joel knew it.

You knew you’d be the one to catch feelings and want more. You hated it. It sucked the fucking life out of you, leaving you a crying mess every night before you fell asleep.

You were so emotionally and mentally exhausted. You felt foolish for thinking even just for a second that you’d be able to change Joel’s mind about your relationship—if you want to even fucking call it that—with him.

You kept your head down when you entered Joel’s classroom. You were a couple of minutes early, but luckily, there were a few other students already seated. You felt Joel’s eyes burning holes into your head, and you shifted in your seat uncomfortably.

Please, for the love of god, stop staring at me.

That’s all that was racing through your mind. You felt your phone buzz, and when you saw Joel’s name on the screen, the knot moved from your stomach to your throat. You felt like you could barely breathe. You just wanted to take your final and get the fuck out of his classroom and away from him.

But then, realization dawned on you. He had no fucking idea how you felt, so you being so stand-offish toward him would only raise suspicion.

You looked at his text.

Everything alright?

You sigh and type back, trying so hard to swallow the goddamn knot in your throat that won’t seem to go away.

Everything’s fine.

Not even a minute later, your phone buzzed again.

Stay after class for a bit.

You wanted to scoff at his text. Sex was not going to fix how you felt. In fact, it would make things even worse.

Can’t. Going out with Adrienne tonight.

You couldn’t help but glance up at Joel, who was looking confusedly down at his phone. He sighed and set his phone down on his desk, chair scraping against the floor as he stood up. He went over the final and the rules, distributing the tests shortly after.

One thing you were grateful for in that moment was your ability to zero in on the test, feelings for Joel and his lingering stare set aside. You’ve come way too far and studied too hard to get distracted now.

You were one of the first few to finish, turning in your test onto his desk. He nearly reached out to grab your wrist to stop you from leaving. He’d seemed to have forgotten where you two were at the moment.

You gave him a warning glance as you slipped your hand abruptly back to your side. He played it off like he was reaching to grab the small stack of finished exams, eyes clouded with confusion as he looked up at you.

You mumbled a thanks, Professor Miller before walking out of his class, thankful to never have to step foot in there again.

You mindlessly swirled the amber liquor around the glass cup you were sipping out of. You truthfully didn’t feel like going out tonight, but Adrienne wanted to celebrate you finally finishing all of your coursework.

She wanted to stay by your side, but a cute man had come up to her and asked her to dance with him. You insisted she go, because you truthfully didn’t want to suck her cheerful mood into your misery.

You downed the rest of your drink and pushed yourself off of the barstool, needing to get out of the thick haze of smoke the bar was currently bathed in. You sent Adrienne a quick text telling her you were getting a breather just in case she came looking for you at the bar.

You rounded the corner of the bar and pressed your back against the cold wall, sending a chill down your spine. The mid-temp air swirled around your body, filling your lungs with gratitude for not having to breathe in machine fog for another second.

You watched as people passed by, laughing and carefree as they stumbled down the sidewalk with arms interlocked or shoving their friends playfully while boisterously laughing at a joke someone said.

You sighed as you felt tears stinging your eyes, wishing so badly you were able to feel their happiness in that moment. You felt like you couldn’t get your fucking emotions together for the life of you. Your pre-Joel self was dying to come out and feel an ounce of happiness again.

It’s like you were trying to constantly set a candle aflame, and he’d blow it out. Over, and over, and over again. A constant cycle that never ended. A moth drawn to a flame that ended up getting burned in the end because it couldn’t keep its yearning and curiosity and desire to itself.

It killed you inside knowing that you let this affect you so much. The part of you that screamed that you didn’t need Joel’s validation to feel seen and beautiful was being easily overpowered by the feeling that his validation was everything you need to thrive off of.

Being a plus sized girl most of your life came with many struggles—many of which you’ve overcome, but some still lingered like an annoying fucking cough not even medicine could get rid of. You’ve been told you’d never be the beauty standard, or that you’d look better if you were thinner, or you should work out and eat healthier because the way you looked seemed unhealthy.

You’d crumpled up those nasty words and stomped on them anyway, because at the end of the day, the people making those comments didn’t know a single goddamn thing about you or your life. You were just a random girl in their story; one whose presence had an affect on them so much so that they felt the need to make comments about your appearance.

But none of their fucking words mattered.

What mattered to you was that you’d spent years building up your confidence and self-love to get yourself in a good headspace about your appearance, finally in tune with your body and loving that it gave you life.

But, because of those mean words and terrible past dating antics, you’d built a wall up around yourself to protect yourself and your heart from getting hurt again. Allowing Joel to experience the vulnerability you kept locked away felt like a fucking punch of air out of your lungs.

Because, why the fuck would he not want to be in a relationship with you? Why would he offer to be friends with benefits when he was in his mid fucking forties? Were you not good enough? Was it because of the age difference?

You’ve tried to think of every possibility there might’ve been to conclude why Joel just simply didn’t want you like you wanted him, but you were drawing a blank.

You wiped the salty tears that streamed pathetically down your face, straightening up before taking a deep breath, walking back into the bar to order as many drinks as it took to simply just fucking forget.

The buzz and excitement for graduation shortly followed just two days after.

But, just like most things these days, it went by in a blur. It felt so liberating to walk across that stage; to have done something for yourself—something that was all yours. Your moment. Your success. Your absolute fucking willpower to see this through to the very end. You finally had your masters in criminal law.

Your mom and dad were proud of you. Your siblings were proud of you.

You were proud of yourself.

It’s a feeling that’d been foreign to you these days, hiding in the shadows of the carnal desire for something more with Joel.

You were never one to ask for much, but with him, all you could seem to want is more more more.

Was it greedy of you to want more than just a good fuck?

Maybe to him, it was.

The buzz quickly wore off with that thought constantly in the back of your mind, replaying like an old scratched record that was stuck on a song that could never seem to make it to the crescendo.

You found yourself in your favorite coffee shop just a few days after graduation, desperately applying to any jobs that were hiring a freshly graduated criminal law student.

Fixated too much on the screen of your laptop before you, you barely even paid any mind to the familiar person standing right across from you. It’s only when they cleared their throat that you looked up, surprise written over your features as you see Tess standing before you.

“Tess! What a lovely surprise.” You greet, the first genuine smile stretching over your lips in almost a week.

“Hi, sweetheart. Mind if I sit and keep you company?” Her voice is honeyed and kind, a hopeful glint flashing through her green eyes as she looks down at you.

“Not at all.” You gesture to the chair across from you, and she takes a seat.

“So I hear congratulations are in order.” She folds her hands around the perimeter of her coffee cup and purses her lips.

You grin and wave her off playfully. “Masters shmasters. No biggie.” You shrug, and she laughs at your nonchalance.

“Nonsense, darling girl, that’s a huge deal.”

You give her a small thank you in gratitude, closing your laptop so you could put your undivided attention on her. She nods her head toward your computer, eyebrows threading together.

“You applying for jobs?”

“Mhm. To just about every position I can find that I’m qualified for.” You take a sip of your iced coffee, wishing the espresso was just a tad stronger.

“Which field are you wanting to go into?”

“I was leaning more toward forensics.” And Tess quirks her brow at that.

“Y’know, I could get you in with the bureau. Misty and I know lots of people in forensics, and they’re always looking for people to join their division.”

“Oh, Tess – I – I couldn’t possibly – you’re Joel’s best friend and I’d feel awful–” You were stammering your words left and right, trying to find footing in what you wanted to say, but nothing seemed right.

She reached a warm hand out and clasped it over yours, immediately making your mouth clamp shut. You were honored that she’d even put in a good word for you, but she barely knew you. She’s Joel’s best friend.

“Sweetheart, this isn’t about Joel. This is about you and your future.”

She was right. Just because she was Joel’s best friend, didn’t mean her offering to put in a good word for you had jack shit to do with him. You were the one who worked hard to get to where you are, and hell, there was absolutely no harm in networking. That was what the criminal justice expo was all about a month back anyhow.

“Speaking of Joel,” She softly murmured, almost seemingly hesitant to ask. “Not to pry, but are you still, you know, seeing him?”

You felt your body heat up at her question, gaze averting to your iced coffee. You were suddenly transfixed on the sweat around the plastic cup, leaving its wake of water rings on the wooden table.

“Um, yeah. I haven’t talked to him much recently, though.”

It was true. You didn’t know how to face your feelings head-on for Joel. It was like a fucking beast in the wilderness that wanted – no, needed – to hunt you down and eat you alive.

And so you ran.

You ran without looking back, avoiding the devastating feeling at all costs.

“God, that man is such an idiot.” Tess mumbled under her breath, but the coffee shop was quiet enough to hear her words of disdain.

“Why do you say that?”

Tess’s eyes bore into yours, her hand reaching back out to yours to give it a squeeze – a warning.

“I’m gonna be truthful here with you, sweetheart, because you’re a good person and you deserve so much better.”

You nod your head in the slightest, willing her to continue.

“You see–” She pauses, trying to conjure up the right words she wants to say. “Joel’s a good person. He really is. Is he an idiot for asking you to be friends with benefits? Absolutely. Fucker’s too old for that shit.”

Tess rolls her eyes, and you chuckle softly at her small rant.

“But, truth be told, he has trust issues. He has a fear of getting hurt. He keeps his guard up because he knows that as soon as he lets it down, someone can walk into his life and worm their way into his heart. I think–”

She pauses, shaking her head subtly before sighing. “I think he’s afraid of falling again because of his last relationship. It didn’t end well. Left him heartbroken for nearly a year after that stupid bitch was caught with another man in their bed.”

You sat back, trying to process the information spewed at you.

It all makes so much fucking sense now.

“Christine is the reason for all this. If I could wring that bitch’s neck I would.”

“That bad, huh?” You ask.

Tess purses her lips and shakes her head.

“You have no idea. Joel was a mess. He wasn’t like himself – far off from the best friend I love and know. It was like he was a marionette and her cruel actions were the ones controlling his every move.”

And suddenly you felt so bad. You felt bad for being angry with Joel, but you know you shouldn’t feel bad.

You agreed to his offer, yes, but he was using you solely for the intimacy to fill a void in his life – that carnal need that tried to claw to the surface. The very void he was afraid would swallow him whole if he didn’t get his fix of you. The thing you saw in his eyes after every time you two fucked.

The very thing that felt like it was eating you alive.

You huff out a laugh through your nose, shaking your head with a sardonic smile across your lips.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m the marionette and Joel is the puppeteer.” You tap your nails on the table as a nervous habit, and Tess’s hands cover yours.

Her eyes held sympathy as she looked at you, probably because she’d chewed Joel out for the very thing that was making you fall apart at the seams.

“Well then, sweetheart, maybe it’s time you cut the strings.”

You carded your fingers through Joel’s graying hair as you tugged, moaning his name in desperation. His head was buried between your thighs, making your mind fuzzy and forgetful of everything you’ve been going through mentally the past month.

His skillful tongue catapulted you into your release, crumbling down as your thighs shook and your whine adorned the walls of your bedroom.

He trailed soft kisses up your thighs, fingers indenting into your flesh as he gripped onto you. The drag of his stubble against your skin sets it ablaze, making your eyes flutter open and look down at him.

His soft brown eyes met yours, something behind them you couldn’t exactly read. It was quickly masked with a cocky smirk stretching onto his plush lips, maneuvering upward so he was hovering over you. He moved down to kiss you hungrily, cupping your cheek gently before dipping his tongue into your mouth.

You could taste yourself, moaning against him as your hands glide down to his hips. The taut muscles of his thighs flexed underneath your fingertips as you pulled him closer, wanting to feel his bare chest on yours.

You couldn’t blame him for wanting the intimacy, because hell, it made you feel like you were floating on cloud nine.

It was addicting. Almost fulfilling. You wanted more. More of him, more of his beautiful mind, more of the sweet moments of the real Joel you got to see behind his unyielding exterior.

You wanted it all with him, and yet, he wanted none of it with you.

It fucking stung.

Maybe you were as naïve as you thought, way too over your head with this.

Joel pulled apart from you, gaze meeting yours as he softly smiled.

“You ready for me, darlin’?” His voice is soft, pulling you from your rather brooding thoughts.

You nod, giving him the go-ahead. He collects the slick that’s smeared through your folds, lining himself up with your entrance. He pushes into you slowly, and he chokes on a gasp from how tight you are. He suddenly realizes you’re tense, so he cradles your head before looking down at you.

“Y’gotta relax for me, honey.” He coos.

Honey. That’s a new one.

He moves up to leave a soft kiss on your forehead. You don’t know why, but the action makes you want to cry. You try to ignore it as he presses into you, praising into your ear about how much of a good girl you are for him.

You’re completely enveloped in everything Joel, the feeling of the drag of his heavy cock in and out of you searing itself into your mind. Your mind was swirling with all sorts of emotions again, and for the sake of your own sanity, you wish it would just fucking stop. You wish your mind could stray away from feeling everything all at once.

Joel felt good. He felt safe. He was broad and strong and handsome and generally kind – everything you want in a man.

His lips moved down to your neck, kissing the soft flesh generously. He managed to find your pulse point easily, causing you to elicit a breathy moan into his ear. You felt his smile on your neck as he began to suck on that spot that drove you crazy, and you gasped.

“Joel, you’re gonna leave–fuck, you’re gonna leave a mark.”

“You’re mine.”

Stop fucking saying that.

You’re not, and he made that very clear when he offered to just be friends with benefits.

Joel picked up his pace, and as much as your mind was distracted, it felt too good. You were nearing your end in a haste, and Joel followed right after you. He was out of breath as he pulled out and collapsed next to you, eyes screwed shut as he tossed his forearm over his eyes.

You got up to go to the bathroom so you could clean yourself up and use the restroom. You came back out, slipped your oversized t-shirt over your head and sat next to Joel’s limp body. You couldn’t hold it in anymore, tear after tear falling down your cheeks.

“I’m not her, you know.” Your voice came out shaky, but it got Joel’s attention.

“Who–?”

“Christine.” The name rolled off your tongue with a surprising bitterness. Joel moved his arm down and looked at you with furrowed brows and a dark stare.

Anger flashed across his eyes. The muscle in his jaw was ticking rapidly, completely irate.

“How the fuck do you know about her?” He spits, moving to stand up hastily. He puts his boxers back on, followed by his shorts.

“Does it fucking matter? I’m just telling you, Joel, I’m nothing like her. I wouldn’t fuck somebody else in the same bed we’d share. I don’t understand why you don’t want to be with me.”

“Don’t fucking talk about her again to me, ever. Not another fucking word.” He was avoiding your last words, a pang in his heart for what he felt for you, but he was seething. He hated that you knew the reason why he was so fucked up when it came to relationships. It felt like you had the upper hand, and he didn’t like it one bit.

You laugh and shake your head, tears continuing to wet your cheeks.

“You’ve made me feel more things for you in this past month than I have for any other person in my life…probably ever, Joel. What’s so bad about us being together?” You press again, because fuck, you really wanted an answer.

He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. “Be fucking realistic here. It would never work out between us. You’re my student–”

“Was.” You interrupt.

“Was my student. But you’re too young. You don’t have your priorities straight, you’re freshly graduated. You’re too… inexperienced.” He tosses his shirt over his head and crosses his arms, the thin material stretching over his broad, tense shoulders.

“That’s genuinely just rich coming from you, Joel. You didn’t seem to have a problem with my age when you bent me over your desk, or fucked me in the hotel room, or your room, or ten fucking minutes ago. I’m nearly thirty, so don’t spew that bullshit about my age. You’re also really one to talk about me having my priorities straight,” You step around your bed to face him. “You’re in your mid forties and you wanted to be in a friends with benefits relationship, Joel. You’ve called me yours so many times, look at me like you feel something for me, and then expect me to go about as normal? What the fuck is that?”

He pauses for two seconds, nearly blacked-out irises staring into your own glossy and tired gaze.

“It’s not my fault I didn’t live up to the expectations of myself that you created in your head.”

You purse your lips into a thin line, taking a step back from him. He was right, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

“I–I can’t fucking do this anymore with you, Joel. Please get out of my apartment.”

“So that’s it?” He tosses his hands up, looking at you in disbelief. He looked almost, dare you say, disappointed.

“Get out.” You whisper, more tears adorning your cheeks. He scoffs and brushes past you, letting himself out of your apartment with a slightly more forceful closing of the front door. You didn’t care how dramatic you might’ve been in this moment, but you sank to your knees and buried your face in your hands.

You cried and cried and cried, the pain in your heart something you’ve never quite felt before.

You wished nothing more in that moment than to be able to reverse time and make sure not to give in to temptation, because holy hell, she was the fucking devil.

The constant hurt in your heart was a reminder that this was very real, it happened, and you were stuck with the cruel aftermath of it all.

But, Tess was ultimately right.

You were Joel’s marionette no more.

tag list: @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @bastardmandennis ; @tinygarbage ; @cool-iguana ; @untamedheart81 ; @nclgsticore ; @pamasaur

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #fic: law of attraction #professor!joel #professor miller #plus size!reader #joel miller imagines #joel miller series #joel miller x plus size reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller au #joel miller angst

193 notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 5 months

Text

reverb • chapter eleven

synopsis: eren and (y/n) finally meet again after weeks apart, only to find themselves engaged in a weekend full of passionate love making. In the midst of their steamy rendezvous, EJ poses a question that not only leaves the shocked (y/n) stunned but himself as well..asking if she’d like to go out with him. Not certain of how things will pan out if they decide to date, (y/n) is hesitant but then recalls a conversation she’d had with her uncle just days prior. What will her answer be? Meanwhile, the aftermath of Armin’s annual party is revealed when he and Niesha’s game of cat and mouse comes to a boiling head. Things only get worse when his affluent, billionaire parents invite him to dinner to discuss an important family matter. The carefree playboy is given news that will force him to make the hardest decision he’ll ever have to face.

word count: 9.5K

content + themes: sexual themes, fluff, romance, mentions of tarot, spirituality and light work, violence, mentions of gang activity and guns, drug mentions, bits of angst, more flashbacks of (y/n)’s past, mentions of abuse, comedy + humor, crack, drama, choking but it turns sexual idk how to describe it, sorry, toxic, TOXIC behaviors I do not condone, angsty at the end

“Whatever choice you make, son. I support and always be proud..I won’t be upset with you no matter what but just make sure that it’s one you can live with.”

📝: thank you guys so much for sticking around and supporting this story! I’m so happy when you guys send thoughtful comments and feedback, asks, etc. it makes my entire day and gives me so much motivation. I know y’all are probably sick of the cliffhangers but trust, there’s a reason! 😭 anyways, I hope you like the story. Reblogs, comments, etc are very appreciated!! Also, I like to make the reader’s backstory as vivid as possible. Although you may not resonate with it personally, it is important to the story itself. So keep that in mind when reading, please.

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“Wh-what?..wait, EJ..what are you saying?”

“..Thought I made myself pretty clear..I want to go on a date with you. Do this right..”

in that moment, time felt as if it were standing completely still..nothing about this entire ordeal felt like reality right now. There was no way that not only had you spent hours entangled in the sheets with EJ the Don, exchanging kisses, sweat and every other bodily fluid possible. There was no way you were in this famous rapper’s house, let alone his bed..and there was certainly no way in hell that he had just asked you out mid-orgasm..certainly you had to be dreaming! But alas, here you were with your bodies melded together as one. Those jade colored eyes beaming down at you with the most serene of energy. In a way, his words brought you comfort..peace. Normally, guys would try and pressure you into situations that you weren’t ready for. Using sex as a clever segway into whatever their true goal was. But that wasn’t the case with him. Truth be told, he didn’t have to lie to get what he wanted..he was honest to a fault and maybe that was one of his biggest flaws. He couldn’t be deceitful and that oftentimes led to him hurting people’s feelings. His little spat with Mikasa was a prime example..had he exercised a bit of restraint, maybe the situation wouldn’t have blown up the way it had. With you, he was hoping to have the opposite effect. If he wanted you gone, you would’ve been ass naked in the back of an Uber before the sun came up. He was the last man who had to lie his way into some pussy so obviously, he was coming from a place of sincerity. Pushing gently at his chest, (Y/N) shifted your head to the side, thinking that if you did not look at him directly, those pangs of butterflies wouldn’t come rushing through your stomach. Instead, you were met with the soft grasp of his fingers underneath your chin. “Or not..” pausing to collapse next to you. Not only for a breather but because he felt as though he had set something wrong. Maybe he was being a little too forward and persistent. Or maybe he was a damn fool and this whole school kid, whirlwind crush was unrequited. But little did he know, you felt the exact same! Hell, maybe even stronger..it had been forever since you’d look at anyone the way you did him. And so what if it had only been two months since you guys knew each other? You’d heard that age old cliche ‘love at first sight’ more than you could count. Even if it wasn’t quite to that stage yet, you knew it was far stronger than just sex. You both had set it in your minds, unbeknownst to the other..that if you fucked one more time and those feelings didn’t remain, then you’d call it quits. But as you suspected..you were head over heels. Even when you finally managed to get some rest after the long night, you were dreaming of him. It was crazy! It honestly brought you back to a conversation you had just a few days prior…

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flashback• five days ago: Wisteria Gardens Apartments • southside

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The warm Florida sun peering down over the coast of Miami Beach, waves crashing subtly against sandy shores as patrons splashed through the cool waters and children built grainy castles. The picturesque view is the ideal representation of the bustling city. But lying within its intricate roadways and landscapes was an entirely different viewpoint. One far less appealing and inviting. Only those familiar with the areas would dare travel there..for them, ironically..it was home. The only place they felt welcomed. The projects. The ghetto..where many of Miami’ elites got their start and oftentimes dubbed their stomping grounds. Including upcoming stars, (Y/N) (L/N) and Niesha Daniels. Residents of Opa Locka’s infamous 8th Street. Where drug dealers and sex workers roamed frequently. Where those who only knew of violence and criminal activity thrived..but for you? It always brought forth a sense of nostalgia. The strange thing was, you weren’t too far removed from the dire situation you grew up in but it felt unreal going from rubbing elbows with rockstars to now driving through your old hood with Dior shades on your eyes. You remember the nights that you and your granny would hear gunshots from down the street; getting word that one of her friends’ grandsons or nephews had been involved in gang activity. Or the more joyful memories of you and Niesha walking to the corner store on Friday nights. Dressed just like the girls who were dubbed ‘hoochies’ back in the day but sporting your sew ins, micros, long acrylics and gold earrings proudly. The smell of fresh fish frying and BBQ plates outside of the gas station while crowds chatted and danced. Dope boys stationed in the parking lot with the doors of their Chevy Impalas swung wide open, blasting Jeezy and Ross as you both walked by. Being cat called by men old enough to be your fathers as they shot dice in front of the store doorway. It was a very different life from the one you both lived now. Hence why you were back..hoping to gain some clarity from the one person you had been dreading to see since returning home. Navigating your new rose gold Mercedes G Wagon into the parking lot of the Wisteria Gardens Apartments, you pulled into an empty space, promptly killing the engine afterwards. On the opposite side of the large complex sat a duplex, tucked off in the corner. Luckily, that was your destination so you wouldn’t be spotted. Neither would your vehicle. Stepping out in high-top brown and pink Dunks, biker shorts showing off your small leg tattoo and a Balenciaga sweatshirt. The 613 balayage flowed down your back and tied into a ponytail..(y/n) tossed the small crossbody over your shoulder and headed up to the front door on the left side, where you left two small knocks. It was then that you were greeted by the sound of serene music and bells playing. You’d push the door once more to realize that it was not only unlocked but slightly ajar. If it told you anything, it was that the man inside was hard at work and awaiting you. “Unc? Uncle Bam..you home?” Silence.

That was until you heard the deep tone of a male answer you back.

“About time you showed up, honey..” turning around, you were greeted with the calming aura and deep set eyes of a tall, darker skinned male with a muscular build and neatly styled dreads. Around his neck hung an Eye of Horus pendant and crystals. It was him..

“Unc!”

“Welcome home, baby girl. It’s been so long.”

akin to that of a little child, you leapt into his arms and beamed with joy! It had been roughly two years since you’d last been to his home. Travel and work had kept you so busy, you never had time. He was the only living family member that you had any sort of contact with from either side. Much like the many estranged ones, your uncle Benny, affectionately known as Bam around the area had grown up into a life of crime and as they always say with trouble, it’s easy to get in and even harder to get out of. He had spent his younger years in and out of prison before landing himself in there for fifteen years after beating the abuser of one of his closest friends nearly to death. He was a good man with a kind soul.

During his incarceration, he delved deep into spirituality. More so tarot and lightwork. An innate gift he knew he had possessed since childhood. He decided that once he got out, he’d walk the straight and narrow from then on out. Now a free man, he spends his days honing his craft here at his home; doing detailed readings, cleanses and spell work. As quiet as it was kept, he was the sole reason you were where you were right now. Shortly after the death of your grandmother, you were left alone. Your mom and her only daughter didn’t even bother to show up to the funeral and once she did show her face, she caused a scene. Only coming around in hopes of claiming some inheritance so she could promptly go shoot it up in a back alley somewhere. Then there was your father, sitting idly in Florida State Prison, serving life after he committed the ultimate sin. Needless to say, you wanted no parts of either of them anyways.

But you needed someone and luckily, your uncle had gotten to a far better place since finishing out his stint. He was living in a very nice duplex home with his long time partner, Kelvin. Who was equally as kind and loving as he was. Without question, he allowed you to stay in the other half without paying a dime for as long as you pleased. The two had come upon some serious money from their old ventures and decided to invest their funds. Restoring old apartment complexes that had been previously overrun by gang members and providing low income housing to the residents. Sometimes even waiving rent payments altogether for those in need. Essentially investing back into the community they called home. He truly was your idol..especially since it was him who introduced you to pole as a means of stress relief and self expression. Soon, that hobby turned into untapped talent that he felt needed to be shared. So one day, you began sharing the videos to your bare Instagram feed, quickly accruing a large following. One thing led to another and now, you were performing on stages larger than life. Without him, there would be no Pole Assassins or (influencer name).

“I know..that’s kinda my fault. I’m sorry..been busy. Thank you for the biscuits by the way. They were so good.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, chile. I know how much you used to love those things. Miss (grandma’s name) used to make them for me all the time. Besides, I know them folks been keeping you on your toesss. But get that money. I ain’t mad at you.”

uttering the sentiment in a rather feminine and expressive tone, waving his hand fan to feign off any smoke. Candles burned from the corners, along with pungent incense. It looked as if he were just in the middle of charging some crystals when you came in. But it was rather perfect timing..as he had predicted, you’d be making your way over. So he was prepared!

“Gone take a seat, honey. I’ll get you some tea.” feeling just as cozy as you did years ago, you’d plop down in one of the plush, throne like chairs and wait for him to join you. Whilst he was pouring up a batch of his famous iced tea, you scoured the various decks of cards and oracles with your eyes. Fascinated by this unknown world, you could only imagine what this visit would entail. “So..tell me how the life of the rich and famous has been treating my dear niece..how’s Beyonce and ‘nem?” sending you into a fit of laughter. He was such a card sometimes, always saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Ooh..now Unc, you know I’m far from that but..we're working on it. It’s been good though..can’t complain..” Just then, a wave of sudden sadness overtook you and you’d recall crying this morning. And almost instantly, he’d pick up on it.

“But?..”

“But what?..”

A question you and he both already knew the fateful answer to. You were severely depressed; a hole you couldn’t seem to come out of. No matter how many accolades, accomplishments and even happy moments you accrued. It all felt meaningless..you still didn’t have the two things you so desperately sought after. And if anyone knew that, it was him.

“You still feel like you haven’t done enough. Or rather..something’s missing.” You knew he’d read you like a book but if you knew that, you’d also know that he was far from done with his investigation. Finally working his way back to the table, he’d hand you the glass and take a seat before you. The two oracle decks you were previously looking over, he’d pick up and shuffle through. He was full and aware of how to help ease your worry and hopefully clear up some of your pressing questions. He had done it so many times before..it had been so long since you’d had one of his signature readings. Uncle Bam’s predictions were almost always spot on so if you could trust someone’s intuition, even when it wasn’t your own, you could trust him. “Don’t worry,, we gon’ help you out. Take a couple breaths for me while I get these shuffled.” Without hesitation, you did so. Inhaling slowly and exhaling all the same with your eyes closed. This was always done to help center yourself before a reading; bringing you closer to the universe and to help you realize what it is you need to hear.

slowly but surely, he’d begin to dish out cards. Akin to that of a black jack dealer, they’d fly onto the table face down and soon after, he’d flip them over. Taking a moment to mull over them, he’d place his finger to his chin and release a deep sigh. The look on his face had you concerned for a moment..as if he were contemplating something serious. Perhaps, you were in worse shape than you thought.

“..there’s something you’ve been feeling conflicted about. Somebody rather. You’re scared..” the words drawing a look of concern and a slight gasp from between your lips. What exactly did he mean?

“These feelings..they’re strong. You feel so deeply for this person and you don’t want to because you’re afraid of getting hurt. Afraid that they won’t feel the same. It’s like you keep telling yourself, ‘it’s too soon..’ You also feel like if you pursue this one thing, then you failed at everything else. I’m seeing..flowers of some kind. Purple. Some flower that meant a lot to you. Maybe you saw something today that brought back intense memories for you. Maybe they even made you cry..”

as he was spouting off his visions, you’d feel a slight lump form in the back of your throat. It was heavy and hard to swallow. Afraid that if you did, you’d burst into tears right then and there. You hadn’t uttered a word to Uncle Bam about your situation and you knew no one else could have either. Not about your granny’s house, about Eren..nothing. Even Niesha, who was a notorious blabbermouth. He more than likely whisked right into your apartment with those biscuits and right out. As far as the flowers, he was spot on. The name of this place? Wisteria Gardens and ironically, it was the same plants that surrounded this complex. Much like the ones that used to grow in your grandma’s yard every year. Beautiful, lavender flowers that hung like bearing fruit. Seeing them again dredged up those memories of playing in the yard and picking them for her vases. It was just his innate sense of intuition. He truly was a master of his craft. Divinity was his true calling! He’d pull back for a moment and wipe his own eyes, reaching over for a burning stick, wrapped in twine and cloth. “Whew! Gon’ make me break the sage out in here..this is heavy, honey!..” breaking a bit of the tension and intense emotions up by making you laugh. “But let’s keep going..” he’d continue surveying the cards and shuffling through. Picking out the ones that resonated with him the most. Fortunately, there was some good in this reading so he’d gravitate towards that.

“..But I see you’ve also been feeling gracious. I’m seeing a lot of gratitude. You’re happy with how far you’ve come. There’s something you’ve had your eye on..maybe a new purse or some type of jewelry. Reward yourself, chile. You’ve earned it.” It was right then that he’d decide to place the cards down and remove his glasses, wiping up the remnants of his tears with a bit of laughter. That’s when he’d reach across the table to grasp your hands.

“(Y/N), sweetheart. You’re a wonderful young woman. Always have been..you got a good head on your shoulders. For as long as I could remember, you never gave your grandma trouble. You were smart, even when things were hard for you, you did everything you were supposed to and I’m so proud of you. It ain’t been easy for you and hell, you could’ve ended up just like me, your mama and your daddy but you didn’t..you’ve come such a long way..” It was then that the words began to spill out as did your tears because it had been so long since you’d heard someone tell you that they were proud of you.

“Thank you, Unc. I’ve been trying..I really have.”

But alas, that wasn’t all he had to say. There was one more tidbit of advice he had to give. Looking you dead in your eyes, he’d hold your hands.

“I know, baby. That’s why I’m telling you if you don't listen to anything else and I don’t need these cards to say it, it’s this..go live your life. You’ve been working since you were seventeen. Ain’t stopped since. Your granny would be so proud of you so go live. If this person is truly making you as happy as I can tell they are, go for it. Go find your peace, you’ve earned it.” and with that, you knew from that moment, what had to be done….

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So with this man now lying next to you, eyes averted to the covers because he was a little embarrassed, you’d hastily reach over and cup his face into another kiss before rolling over on top of him. “Stop looking like that.” immediately, he’d begin to flush red and try to form a sentence but you rendered him impossible with your tongue. Brushing your fingers through his hair and straddling him. Just a moment ago, you seemed completely uninterested and now, you were trying to go at it again. What changed?

“Of course I’d love to go out with you, EJ. Nothing would make me happier.” and you had just made him the happiest he had been in a while! Grabbing your waist, he’d break into an adorable cackle, just feeling so relieved that you hadn’t rejected him. “Thank goodness..” which brought you to a soft giggle in return. Which soon transformed into you full blown laughing. For the first time in a long time, you’d have a heartfelt laugh..

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing..I was just thinking about something.”

Flipping back over onto your side and running your finger down the perimeter of his chest, you’d place a gentle kiss along his cheek before coiling those smaller arms around his torso.

“So what exactly did the brilliant EJ have in mind for a first date?” causing the rapper to gulp in response because out of all his areas of expertise, romance wasn’t his strong suit. The fact that he had actually managed to bag your fine ass in the first place was an achievement in and of itself! Now, he was left with the task of ensuring that he kept you around..cradling his arm around you, he’d look down with a soft grin and place a kiss to your forehead. Trying his hardest to lay on the charm.

“Well, I was thinking maybe a nice dinner, a little walk on the beach..” but as his words trailed off, something told you that wasn't exactly his style. He seemed far too laid back for the luxurious, pompous date nights..but he was trying to be as chivalrous as possible. After all, it wouldn’t be the slightest bit polite to take a woman he had spent all night going raw in for burgers and fries on an official first date! Even so, you wanted him to be comfortable as well. Something you’d both enjoy. Not only that, if you wanted to do this right and not just be two people sleeping together without the slightest clue about the other..then it was important to just let go of the awkward jitters and ask outright what your interests were. No need in being shy after all that had happened. No need in being afraid..this was a safe space.

“Unless..there’s something else you wanted to do.” which prompted you to start giggling yet again. And this time, his little cheeks flustered red and he’d stare yet again, feeling embarrassed. Nobody had tripped EJ the Don up quite like you. Here he was stumbling over himself like a bumbling idiot and all of that confidence he had used to seduce you was flying out the window. Even so, you thought it was just the cutest thing ever. “Not at all. That actually sounds really nice but..I wanna know what it is you like to do. Not just what you think will impress me. In fact…” stopping amid your rant to run a finger down the center of his chest. “I wanna get to know the man behind all of that music. The real you..I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love me some EJ but..Eren? He seems a lot cooler and I can’t wait to meet him.” And for the first time in a long time, his heart would begin to flutter..beating out of his chest because no woman had ever asked him such a thing. Granted, he was putting them out before they could get too close but deep down, he knew they only wanted one thing and that was to use his namesake for a come up. They didn’t care about who he was outside of the chains, money and fame. He was a meal ticket and nothing more. And here you were, wanting to see him for who he truly was. To hell with waiting or being too soon, he had to make you his before somebody else came and snatched you up!

“We’re a little past favorite colors and TV shows, don’t you think?”

“No better time than the present, sweetheart. Maybe we can talk about it..after we get a shower.”

Which didn’t sound like too bad of an idea right now. The only question was what you were going to wear, seeing as how you arrived in nothing more than a bikini and had been wearing nothing but his sheets and body fluids since. But he’d figure something out. For now, you two of you could continue your ‘bonding’ under the warm waters of a shower head.

“Guess you’re right. Speaking of..what do you like for breakfast? I can have my assistant go get–”

“I was actually thinking I’d cook a little something. If you don’t mind. The restaurants on this side of town can’t make breakfast worth a damn. They crack an egg on the plate, smear some sauce around and charge a hundred dollars for it. No thanks..hope you like grits.”

that was all he needed to hear to be confident that he had made the right decision..you were everything he had been looking for in a woman!..grinning from ear to ear, Eren would roll to his side and hop up, gently tugging you up afterwards.

“Or do you northerners not know anything about that?”

“Give me some credit now. I’ve been living among you country bumpkins long enough to know about grits. And other things too.”

It felt good to know that neither of you had to put on a facade around one another. And with that, the witty banter and jokes ensued. Poking fun at one another like old friends.

“Oh, is that so? Like what?” questioning as the two of you walked towards the bathroom. It’s then that he’d lift up your arm and twirl you around to examine your backside, even leaving a light slap to watch it ripple. “I know that it didn't come from a doctor. That’s gotta be greens and cornbread. Got to be.” Shaking his head in pure awe at how thick you were. The one thing he loved about living in the south were the women..the girls who were homegrown and country fed. Long before he was surrounded by BBL bodies, he was blessed with the fortune of seeing the ladies that didn’t need a knife. The ones that had the kind of ass that would make somebody do a double take and clutch their chest. But even so, he’d send you into a fit of laughter, playfully slapping his chest.

“Get away from me. Play too damn much.”

“What?! I didn’t lie..matter of fact, lemme get a closer look.”

Playfully chasing you into the shower where the second bout of your morning would surely ensue. There wasn’t a single doubt that you two would have no problem adjusting into a relationship.

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But unfortunately, the same couldn’t have been said for you guys’ best friends…the people both of you adored more than anything and the ones who had been seeing one another long before (y/n) and Eren even decided to hook up. Armin and Niesha weren’t exactly seeing eye to eye at the moment, which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Seeing as how both of them truly only got along when they were fucking like rabid animals. Otherwise, it was a toxic game of cat and mouse. A test to see who could make the other jealous first. Posted up with this girl and hugging that dude. Childish antics if you’d ever seen any. Nonetheless, it worked for the chaotic pair. That was until last Friday at that yacht party, when it all came to a very explosive head.

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flashback: part two - miami port

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“So you gone sit and play in my face like that?! You gone lie and tell me you wasn’t with the bitch? Armin, who do you think I am?”

“And if I was..what exactly are you going to do about it? But since you asked, Niesha. I’ll tell you exactly who you are..an idiot. I mean, no offense, baby but you have to be out of your fucking mind to think that we were anything more than this. What? You thought because I brought you a couple purses, some jewelry that me and you would be together? Sweetheart, you are nothing more than some stress relief. Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’ll admit, the pussy was good..amazing even but I don’t plan on settling any time soon. Especially not with someone like you.”

words that stung like bees, ones that should have been cutting deep and sending her into hysterics..if it were anyone else! But it was just as (Y/N) had said:

“Haven’t met a dude she hadn’t left crying yet.”

and just as she had predicted, Armin was up next! Rather than bursting into tearful sobs and cries, he was met with cackles and hearty laughs. A tattooed hand and long acrylics covered her mouth as her head flew back. Eventually doubling over in laughter.

“What the fuck is so funny?” His nerves obviously rattled by how unbothered she was. He knew that Niesha was crazy and hell, that was half the excitement but damn, any other woman would have at least slapped and said she hated him. Here she was cackling like shit was sweet..just what was this girl’s problem?!

“You done? Like I said, Armin..who do you think I am? You can save them lil’ weak ass insults for a bitch with no self esteem. I said it before and I’ll say it again..’you not going nowhere. And neither am I..” standing ten toes down in her sentiment, even folding her legs and pretending to swipe over her long nails. Completely unfazed by anything he’d said before. However, Armin was a little stirred in his spirit. Always getting riled up when he was with Niesha. That was the effect she’d had on him since the first night they met. Heated arguments turned to fiery, passionate sex that was always better than the last. But tonight, he’d decided he had enough and was calling it quits for good. He had to..otherwise, he was going to lose his own damn mind!

“Oh..you thought I was mad about that lil’ brokedown girl you had in your Insta story. If you’re gone try to make me jealous, at least get a bitch with all her teeth. Have some class.” and it was then that he’d retort back, trying to defend himself. He had been pacing the floor of the master bedroom suite in the ship’s cabin, trying not to lose his cool but this girl was really testing his patience. She had the nerve to cheat when he had spent all of that money on her?! The nerve. What made her so special from all the rest of the girls that fell in love with him?

“Says the one fucking half of The Miami Heat. Don’t try to check me for some shit when you’re doing the same thing. I saw you with him, Niesha.”

“That’s right. While you were getting neck from ol’ gummy bear, I was getting my shit cracked. I’m not your bitch so what are you mad for? This free game.” And little was he aware of the can of worms that he had popped open.

“You know what your problem is? You’re entitled. You try to compensate with all these lil’ hoes because you’re really a loser, baby. You think they’ll actually fuck with you if you ain’t have the bread you did? C’mon now. Flexing mommy and daddy’s money ‘cause you would’ve never made it otherwise. Went and got you a chain, some tattoos and started showing your ass. But the real Armin? Ain’t nothing but a square ass ‘lil nigga looking for approval because his parents never gave it to him. You are so used to everybody kissing your ass because you throw a lil’ change in their face. But I’m not one of them. Ion care about you or your money. That bag? I already had two. Your lil’ necklace? I gave that shit away. We wouldn’t be together..you right..community dick is good for one thing and that’s never being seen in public with it. Matter of fact, I think Connie and Ony are here tonight. Might go see what their fine asses are hitting for. I need a real man.”

Suddenly, she’d stand to her feet and begin making the trek towards the door. As if nothing had happened but Armin was not about to let that happen. “Shit, if my sister hadn’t got to him first, maybe I would’ve fucked EJ too. Heard that dick was hitting—” suddenly, any bit of restraint and level headedness he may have had..went straight out of the window. Before she could walk out, Armin would grab her arm and force her against the wall. “Watch your fucking, Niesha.” Causing her to start cackling yet again. It was as if nothing phased this woman. His words may have meant nothing but hers hurt like a bitch! Insulting him, playing on his insecurities and then proudly admitting that she’d fuck his best friends?! She’d gone too far! He had gotten so worked up, he’d hadn’t even realized that his hand was latched around her throat. Immediately freezing because he’d never in his life hurt a woman and if she brought him to that point, then she had to go but before he could take it away..the look in Niesha’s eyes told a different story..one that thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of his hands around her neck and even signified it by biting her lip; sucking her teeth in a lecherous manner. This toxicity truly got her excited!

“Mmm…now I like that shit.” Getting visibly aroused at the vice grip he had on her. Even prompting him to squeeze tighter because it’d get her wetter. All Armin could do was laugh because once again, she had worn him down and pulled him right back into her trap.

“You’re a crazy bitch, you know that?..or maybe I’m the crazy one for fucking with you..”

Just then, he’d feel his thumb between her plump lips, being suckled on and her deep set, dark, siren like eyes laser focused on him and his biggest weakness..that sweet little voice that she always drew him in with.

“Maybe..but..” and before she could complete the sentence, he’d have her up against the dresser, legs spread and her thong pushed to the side. “You’re right, I’m not going anywhere. And you’re sure as hell not. This pussy belongs to me, act like you remember.” This time, tugging her by her hair with the same force; proof that he was done playing games with her. He was going to show her what a real man was alright! “Now put that fucking phone down..” That slight grimace in his voice sent to her spine and her sensitive spot. She loved seeing him like this. Hence why she got his ass in an uproar in the first place. She wanted to get him as angry as possible to get him to take his frustration out on her. “Mm..whatever you say...”

Because in the end, she always got her way. And Armin? He’d finally met his match!

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Hence why, at the moment, he was headed into the Nobu, one of Miami’s premier eateries. Notorious for feeding some of the city’s most elite. Tonight, they’d be hosting the Artlerts..the leaders of a multi billion dollar conglomerate, earning their fortune in oil and technology..stemming back from the early nineteen hundreds. Needless to say, they were descendants of old money and Armin, was a direct beneficiary and byproduct of such wealth and he certainly took advantage of it. However, his parents had contacted him earlier in the week to inform him that they’d be flying into town and that there was important business that they needed to discuss with him. What exactly they had to discuss was a mystery..however, all would soon be revealed. Dressed in one of his several designer ensembles; an all black Armani suit..turtleneck tucked into his slacks with a matching belt buckle. Covering the plethora of tattoos that littered his body. Silver rings adorning his fingers and a matching necklace. Coordinated and fitting just right..the potent aroma of Tom Ford cologne radiating from his body..he truly looked like a million bucks. But unfortunately, his mood didn’t exactly match his current physical shape. Being with family should have been a monumental occasion. Marked with laughs, good times and love. And for the bright eyed, young producer..it was in his earlier years. As the only child to wealthy entrepreneurs and presumably, the heir to a massive fortune, they poured every ounce of adoration, care and their limitless resources into ensuring that Armin had the best upbringing possible. Private schools, tutors, a fully funded college education, and the best things that life had to offer. Which paid off..Armin excelled in every aspect of his life. Top tier grades; which earned him a steady four point six average until he graduated college with a degree in marine biology. He played baseball, basketball and rugby, an aficionado in all three and was even his university’s point guard up until junior year. Needless to say, he was his parents’ pride and joy. But it seemed as of late, that satisfaction seemed to have dissipated a bit. The Artlerts had high expectations for their child. Naturally, they supported anything that he wanted to explore and backed him one hundred percent..however, they weren’t betting on any of those ventures including making music. Less known, in the hip-hop industry. Granted, they had no qualms about it. If that’s what made him happy and he put his entire focus into it, then it was all that they could ask of their son.

That just wasn’t the case for Armin though. As successful and bright as he was, he was equally as reckless and rambunctious. Drinking, partying and laying up with various girls. Although he kept his parents out of the loop, it didn’t take long before word of his antics made it back to them via their inside sources who kept tabs on him and it was safe to say that they were not happy.

Hence why he was so nervous to meet with them tonight..the shame and embarrassment that was beginning to set in. He knew that his family would either scold him until they were red in the face or just give him a lecture of pure disappointment. Either way, he wasn’t much in the way of hearing it. Regardless, he’d traipse into the lofty establishment, hands tucked into the pockets of his suit as the hostess greeted him. Having quite the reputation and prestige, she informed him that his party was waiting and saw him to his table immediately. Glass chandeliers hung from the ceilings and cerulean lighting illuminated the dimmed dining area. Tables and booths lined with silky white cloths and perfectly folded napkins, seated next to polished silverware. Wine glasses filled with crystalline water and patrons, unmistakable members of the upper echelons chatted among their peers about finances, private trips and shopping sprees. It all felt so suffocating!

“Armin, darling! So glad you made it..”

Suddenly, a middle aged woman with honey blonde tufts, styled into loose curls, deep blue eyes and a pink satin gown with fur doused across her shoulders arose from her seat to drape her arms around him. The exorbitant pearls hanging from her neck and the Elizabeth Taylor perfume surrounded Armin like a warm embrace.

“Mom! It’s so good to see you.” grinning from ear to ear. No matter how old he grew or the amount of time that passed, he’d forever be his mom’s baby. Or as she could so affectionately dub him, her “pumpkin pie.” Because he was so sweet as a child. Seated next to her, was a man with a lighter variation of the hair color and features, with the exception of stubble and slightly thicker brows. His voice rang out with a stronger vibrato as he greeted his child. “Good to see you, son.” “Dad..good to see you too..” Reaching over to extend his arms for a hug. The tension had somewhat subsided from Armin’s body..seeing his folks again. At the end of the day, he was their baby regardless of what he did. “Please, have a seat.”

however, the news they came to deliver was going to do little to make him feel settled once revealed. Pulling his chair out, Armin would do as his mom instructed, taking a swig of water afterwards. “So..how’ve you been, Armin?” His mother made the first inquisition. Out of genuine concern and to break the proverbial ice. It always was easier for him to open up around her. He’d go on to tell them that he had been doing fine and that he was set to go on tour soon with his boys. They were working on some big projects and he was doing fine. Completely omitting the fact that his promiscuous, womanizing ways had caught up to him recently. Granted, he wasn’t going to let Niesha or her nonsense take him off of his true course but he couldn’t continue on playing these games..it was fun but it was also taxing. Even so, he couldn’t stay away from her. That’s how addictive it was. His mom seemed to be pleased by the update..her son in good health and spirits was all that she could ask for. Even if she didn’t exactly understand Armin’s career choice or even agree with it at times, it made her smile knowing that her son was happy..seeing him beam with excitement as he talked about working with these amazing artists and the upcoming festival his label was putting together. He also mentioned getting to work with the Pole Assassins and how they were bringing something new and innovative to the industry. His mother would grin and giggle, listening and even asking pertinent questions, ones that he was happy to answer. It took his mind away from all the other things and possibilities that could have been coming with this conversation. “Oh sweetie..I’m so proud of you. It sounds like you’re having a wonderful time.” She’d hoist her glass with a cheery expression and take a sip to commemorate his success. That’s when he’d glance over to his father, who shared a similar expression, faintly grinning and nodding.

“I have to agree. It’s good to see you doing something you love, son. Very proud of you.” His father would nurse his champagne once more before setting his glass back to the crisp tablecloth. Regardless of how he felt, his parents had never put this immense pressure on him or made him feel inadequate for his choices. Many of his peers who had also come from esteemed backgrounds were constantly under the scrutiny of their guardians. They were working in prestigious, lucrative fields, making endless amounts of wealth and doing great things. And still didn’t have their family’s respect. Armin was truly fortunate. Even so, it didn’t stop them from worrying. It didn’t stop them from being afraid that one day, the entertaining lifestyle would catch up with him. They weren’t blind or stupid..not by a long shot. They knew their son partook in all of the things that his and his friends lyrics’ entailed. “So..are you seeing anyone? Is there a lucky girl in your life?” His dad, who had always teased him, knew how flustered he became, mainly because despite his playboy appearance now..his son was the most adorable nerd in his former life! “Ah-well..you know. I’m just kinda..keeping my options open.” Part of him was ashamed and another half was nervous. Ashamed that he couldn’t present his folks with a suitable young lady. That he hadn’t brought a date to any of their meetings..he was aware that they wanted him to get married, start a family but he just wasn’t ready to commit to that yet. He wanted to have fun, mess around and more so..have his fill! He didn’t want just one lady. It wasn’t his style..on the other hand, he was nervous..nervous because he could no longer deny the feelings he had for that insane woman. Regardless of how batshit crazy Niesha drove him, she’d had her claws sunk into his skin deep and he didn’t want anyone else but her.

Even at his party, after fighting with her and everything, he made love to her as if he were hoping to make her stay and although she was just saying the most evil things..she told him she loved him. Crying it into his ear as she held him close. He’d been with a couple girls here and there but all he could think about was where she was..was she thinking of him too? He was nervous because if he could no longer fight his urges, would he be able to bring her home? Would they accept her?…would they still be proud of their baby boy? She came from an entirely different world than him. One he loved being a part of. She was wild, rambunctious and unfortunately, couldn’t flip a switch the way he did. Maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with her ass! She lived in her truth twenty four seven. There was no faking with her..and ironically, he admired that. And despite what she said, she actually gave a damn about him..unlike the others. She was honest, she made him care about himself and didn’t allow him to stay in bad places too long. It was crazy..

“Well I’m sure the right girl will come along soon..” “..yeah, unless you just have no game.” His father uttered with a sly look, making Armin scoff and laugh as he took another sip. “You wish, old man. I have many problems but that’s not one.” He always enjoyed when he and his dad would banter back and forth. It reminded Armin that he was human and not this billionaire machine, who only focused on amassing profit. “Alright, this old dog could teach you some tricks. All you have to do is ask.” The three would laugh, joke and have a wonderful time. “Oh please, don’t let him fool you. He was a scared wreck when he asked me on our first date. His friends had to deliver his love letter during class because he was so nervous. Adorable, really.” “It was called delegating tasks. I just knew you’d say yes.” "You're so full of it.."

He was truly enjoying this time and feeling back to himself. He felt as if he could truly be honest and open with them. More so than when he was younger..they weren’t inherently strict but they kept him on a tight leash so that he didn’t wind up like some of his other classmates; taking Adderall and Xans during ski trips or family gatherings. He was the one and only heir to the Artlert Industries fortune. Hence why once their meals were brought out, they’d pose another question..

“Hope you don’t mind, we ordered for you since we had no idea when you’d arrive. Your favorite.” And they were spot on. Linguine with spinach and lobster. “Not at all..thank you.” As he took the first bite of his dish, that’s when Mr. Artlert would look directly up at his son..

“Armin..do you like making music? Is this something you enjoy?..”

The question came as a bit of a shock, honestly. Truth be told, he hadn’t thought about that in depth. Armin first began delving into music as an adolescent..he sang in the church choir as a young kid and was gifted his first instrument when he was twelve years old. It was the core link that bonded him and EJ together so for him, it was essentially something that changed his life. He honestly had never thought about doing anything else..

“Of course..I wouldn’t if I didn’t. Why do you ask?” but it was more than just genuine curiosity and sudden interest in his son’s career that had the Artlert matriarch inquiring. There was an entirely different reason other than quality time that had prompted this dinner as well. Truth was, the Artlerts had been keeping a rather worrisome secret from their son and was contemplating when would be the appropriate time to divulge. Now was as good as any..might as well rip the bandage off and come clean. Clearing his throat, Mr. Artlert would take a swig of his wine before proceeding.

“Armin..your mom and I..we..”

At that moment, his stomach began to sink to its lowest pit and he’d begin to form a hard lump in his throat. What exactly did they have to tell him? Why were they stalling?!..Just then, his cerulean eyes began to dilate twice their size and even well up a bit. Were they getting a divorce? Did something happen to the company? He wished that they’d say something! But he’d wait no further because his mom would grasp a nearby handkerchief and press it to her face to conceal her inevitable tears. “Mom..what’s wrong? Please!..tell me.” his parents were his entire world and he couldn’t imagine anything causing them grief. But soon, he’d join in on the heavy feelings when his dad confessed something that he wasn’t expecting.

“Son..I went to the doctor last week and he informed me that they found something. A tumor..” the words seemed to have frozen time in its very tracks and shook the young producer to his core. He couldn’t believe it. “A-a tumor? Wait..are you?--” no! He couldn’t even say it! He couldn’t even fathom such a horrendous thought. Clutching his glass, Armin’s hands began to tremble and his breathing was labored. How could they keep such a secret?! How could they not tell him sooner?..the thought of something happening to the man that he so desperately admired and looked up to was terrifying.. he was scared to pry any further. Almost becoming childlike but just as he had done during his upbringing, Armin’s father would ease his mind.

“Fortunately..they did catch it in time so before it becomes too far malignant but the next couple months on my treatment will be crucial. I’m doing everything I can to ensure that I won’t become ill. I’ve hired the best team of doctors and I’m currently on sabbatical from the company. My board of advisors have already made proper arrangements as well. I’ve taken all precautions.”

It was a relief, truly. Although he wasn’t out of the woods yet, he still had a fighting chance and that was more than enough for Armin. However, it wasn’t the only reason for his disclosure. He had an ultimatum of sorts for his son.

“Armin..you are the one and sole heir to the family business. Once I’m no longer around, you will be the one to step in. How you choose to proceed is your choice entirely–” “Don’t talk like that..don’t talk like you’ve already given up.”

He couldn’t stand it and although he assured him things would be fine, he couldn’t believe that until he had an official clean bill of health and stopped speaking as if he knew something Armin didn’t. But this was a pivotal moment..one where Armin would have to, for once in his life..make a hard decision. One that would require sacrifice..

"I'm going to fight as hard as I can, you have my word. I won't let something like this get me. But I have to know that you'll work just as hard to ensure your future. You've always been a bright young man and I trust that you'll continue to do what's best for you.."

it didn't take a rocket scientist to get what exactly he was implying. How far could music truly take him? Was it sustainable?...he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure how to process any of this but what he did know was that this wasn't going to be an easy road and he had a lot to contemplate from here on out.

"I'd be lying if I said that I am a fan of what you do. Can’t stand it. The music..the partying, all of it is not what I envisioned for you. Sometimes makes your mother and I feel as though we failed." Quite brutal but he could only speak from his heart. Tough love was sometimes necessary, even at the expense of his feelings. But there was one thing that he wanted his son to know above all else:

" That said..I love you, son. We both do..“Whatever choice you make, I support and always be proud..I won’t be upset with you no matter what but just make sure that it’s one you can live with.”

and something told him that his time to decide was running out..

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

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naomihatake · 6 months

Text

In search of freedom (Ch. 6)

6. Where are you when I need you the most?

⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist

⠀⠀➺ Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa

Warnings for this chapter: angst, graphic depictions of deaths and fatal wounds, vomiting, self-harm, brief suicidal mention, canon-typical violence. (proceed with caution since it's getting a tiny bit gore)

Word count: 9,1 k (I'm proud of myself tbh)

Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)

A/N: I'm sorry for appearing with a new chapter 9 days later and I hope the wait was worth it. I dropped more details about the Witch's past in this chapter and some interesting interactions with her other crewmates. The next week I'm free, which means there's a chance I might most two charters until next Sunday <3.

I'm always open for opinions and comments. Whatever you want to tell me, just do it, even all you feel like doing is leaving a heart in my comments or inbox. Every interaction is appreciated and thank you so much for sticking to this story till now <3

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

A warm palm touched her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly, but with no effect. The witch turned her head towards Luffy, her glassy eyes betraying her. It made their captain frown with worry. The sound of her real name slipping from between his lips stung worse than expected.

"It'll be alright," he smiled. "Zoro is a strong swordsman."

With horror painting her features, she shook her head and placed her shaking hand over his, gripping gently.

"You don't get it, Luffy, do you?" her voice came out like a whisper. "It's not just any dwell and that man isn't just any swordsman. I've seen plenty of people dying in front of my eyes, the crew I used to be part of, they didn't hold a chance against—"

She sank her teeth in her lower lip and looked up, blinking away the tears. Her breath was shaking and the grip on Luffy's hand got tighter. Slowly, she inhaled deeply, body trembling as her lungs swallowed the morning cold breeze.

Both Usopp and Luffy were frowning, listening intently to her words.

"This won't end well," she concluded. "He willingly got himself in danger. Zoro is nothing but some prey for Mihawk."

Luffy's sympathetic gaze didn't help her, it didn't ease her worries as he hoped. Her panic was fed by each single thought passing through her head, by each memory making a nest in the present.

"I've met one single Warlord in my entire life and he destroyed half of the strongest crew I ever knew at that time. I know who they are, I know their tactics, I know they're not to play with."

Both of her hands were clasped around Luffy's shoulder, turbulent eyes meeting his. The tips of her nails dug lightly in his skin, but he didn't wince or move.

"Yes, we are strong, but still not strong enough for them," the witch intentionally lowered her voice so it wouldn't crack into sobs. "Please tell me you know I didn't argue with him because I like to. Please tell me you get what I mean, Luffy. I'm scared."

She was barely aware of her admission, but it was hard to hold back. The witch wasn't a scaredy-cat, she didn't run away, pride filled her being all too well to ever lose a battle, be it against herself or others. That time, however, she was scared out of her mind for the swordsman.

Luffy gave her the sweetest smile she's seen in ages and squeezed her shoulder again. "He will be alright."

She let her head tilt forward, hands falling back to her sides. His faith was greater than her fears, but he couldn't erase the panic settling in her bones.

"You have no clue how much I wish you were right."

It hurt. Her chest hurt and something was crawling up her throat, differently than back in Syrup Village. It made her feel nauseous, it bubbled in her stomach and gripped at her neck, it constricted her lungs and air punctured their tissue.

Zoro just walked out of the galley exactly when the sun could be barely seen rising up from the waters. The bandana was wrapped around his head and his earrings chimed like a melody, making her head turn towards him.

The same horrified gaze from hours ago was stuck on him and yet he chose to ignore her, passing by without even casting a glance.

She stood there when Usopp, Luffy and Zoro walked by, her back turned to them. The witch had to collect the pieces of her broken heart before daring to glance at a list fight on the swordsman's side. Mihawk was already waiting for them right in front of the restaurant.

She couldn't watch another dear person die. Not again.

Her fingers dug painfully into her palms, until her nails left crescent marks on the skin, until it hurt so badly the tears in her eyes couldn't fall. Their synchronized steps beat like drums, just like her heart.

Everything was blurred out. She didn't dare look until she heard swords clashing. Like a snap, her head turned.

Mihawk stopped Zoro's attack with one small knife.

He had no chance against the warlord, just like she guessed.

No, she thought. I can't be pessimistic now. Maybe at least he'll get out alive—

But pirates don't just let their dwell partners live, the other side of her conscience commented.

Each one of Zoro's attacks were either stopped or dodged so easily by Mihawk, who seemed like he was playing rather than fighting. He was so light on his feet, body moving like a feather between Zoro's blades.

The warlord sent her green-haired crewmate flying back with a mere push of his knife when he blocked yet another one of his attacks. When Zoro got back to his feet and rushed towards him, Mihawk continued dodging each one of his attacks.

The witch could only hear a muffled conversation from a distance. She didn't even notice when Nami passed by her until she saw orange strands of hair bouncing in her vision.

The navigator didn't come from the restaurant, as she should've since she searched for a drink — or that's what she said. She walked from the other side of the dock. Her hands trembled by her side and she walked slowly, fearfully, her body so stiff, until she stopped behind Luffy.

The witch focused for so long on Nami, her gaze fell on Zoro only when the right side of his chest was penetrated by Mihawk's knife.

Air got stuck in her throat and time stopped in its tracks. Her feet were stuck right where they were and she couldn't move an inch.

Zoro, his name lingered in her thoughts, the sound of it along with the sweet chiming of his golden earrings.

Time stretched like an elastic. Seconds passed by at an agonizingly slow pace, as if the Universe itself decided to torture her with that image.

Swords. Corpses. Blood. Fear.

The witch let out a shaky breath while she trembled like a leaf in the breeze.

Zoro made a step back, the knife slipping away from his flesh. With a few other steps, he fell to his knees, with his swords digging into the wooden battens to keep himself steady.

Mihawk curled his fingers around the hilt of the sword on his back.

It seemed like he decided to end it all right then and there.

The witch didn't know if it was her imagination when Zoro seemed to glance towards her for a brief moment. All she knew was that her heart sank into her stomach and she could hear the audible cracks of her soul. The green-haired man took his white sword, placing it in between his teeth.

His gaze moved back to Mihawk so quickly she could barely register it. Her stomach turned upside down and her chest tightened when she saw Zoro rotating his other two swords faster than the brain was able to comprehend.

Mihawk and Zoro jumped into the attack at the same time. She didn't know if their swords collided or not.

Zoro fell to his knees again, panting. The swords in his hands crumbled into pieces all the way to the hilt, right in the middle of the runes the witch drew hours ago on the blades. His Wado Ichimoji fell from between his teeth.

He didn't stop there. Of course that fucking idiot didn't stop. He used the white sword to get up, resting his weight into it until he finally stood straight again, turning to Mihawk. Carefully, he sheathed his Wado Ichimoji.

With his arms held in the air and hands curled into fists, Zoro didn't let go of his word as he proudly admitted:

"Wounds on the back are a swordsman's greatest shame."

The warlord said one word the witch didn't hear and then, with a swift motion, his sword cut deeply through Zoro's chest.

The green-haired man fell on his back, eliciting a shout of his name from Luffy.

Zoro.

His name was all the witch could hear while she rushed to his side, tears blurring her vision, tears she couldn't afford to show.

Just like he did a few moments ago, the witch got to her knees, eyes focused on the t-shirt getting soaked in Zoro's blood.

"Fucking dammit," she spoke in a hoarse voice, hands trembling.

He was bleeding heavily, the dark blue nuance of his shirt replaced by dark crimson. The wound started from under his left clavicle and curved through his chest, all the way to the right side of his ribs. Without a second thought, the witch took off her unbuttoned shirt and folded it, just to press the material on his large wound.

"Monkey D. Luffy," Mihawk said. "what's your goal?"

"I'm going to become the King of the Pirates," Luffy responded through gritted teeth.

The witch's burning gaze raised to the warlord who stood tall meters away, putting his sword back in place on his back. Her fingers ached to touch her revolvers and shoot holes through that man until she's satisfied, until the monster lurking in the depths of her soul had its blood thirst quenched. However, her hands remained pressed against her shirt, trying her best to stop Zoro's bleeding.

She's always been revengeful when people dear to her heart were harmed. Revenge she never denied, a trait of hers she's accepted long ago.

"That's a much more treacherous path than even defeating me. This world could use a few more wild cards."

"Go fuck yourself," the witch let out with wrath burning in her eyes.

She clenched her jaw and her eyebrows knitted together into a deep frown. Anger filled each corner of her being, blinding her almost all the way up, filling her to the brim.

One more drop and she would lash out.

Zoro's safety was more important than her rage and she was completely aware of that. The wounded swordsman was the only reason why she stood still by his side.

"It's too soon for him to die," and with that, Mihawk's gaze fell back on the green-haired man. "Roronoa Zoro, grow strong and come find me. I'll be waiting."

Fucker, the witch's thought wasn't voiced out that time while the warlord walked away.

"Luffy," Zoro spoke in such a soft voice.

The witch and Luffy immediately looked back at him. He was struggling to breathe properly, that mere motion probably making his entire body ache painfully.

"If I fail to become the world's greatest swordsman," he faintly spoke, barely able to open up his eyes. After some greedy gulps of air, he continued: "you'll be disappointed. Right?"

With a shaky breath, Luffy smiled at him as tears gathered in his eyes.

"You could never fail me."

The witch could feel her body shake when she realized the swordsman's life was hanging on a thread.

"Never again. From now… until I beat him," Zoro continued talking in between panting.

The witch wished she could tell him something, anything, but all she could do was continue pressing her shirt over his wound. Looking at him in that state made her heart squeeze in the cage made of ribs, wishing she could be in his place and take his pain away.

With trembling hands, he somehow managed to draw his Wado Ichimoji out of its scabbard, holding it up as he looked up at the blue sky.

"To become the greatest swordsman… I will never lose again!" he let out with a shaky breath, voice scratching at the witch's eardrums.

One of her hands curled around his shoulder and squeezed firmly, intending to bring his attention to her only for a second.

"I'm sorry about what I said, alright?" she gulped down hard, her voice cracking. "You need to live, yeah? I know you'll become the greatest. I'm sorry, Zoro, I'm sorry."

She was sorry for lashing out at him. If they were to part ways in that moment, then she'd rather make sure he never believed she was mad at him, that she didn't hate him even for a second. It was a feeling her heart wasn't capable of harboring towards him — never him. She would've ripped her ribcage open and given him her heart if she could.

The witch could only hope his tired and pained self heard her words, even as his eyes closed immediately after his arm dropped to his side along with the sword.

"You better stay alive," she whispered while looking down at him.

Her words became muffled from his perspective. All he heard was his name being spoken multiple times by Luffy and Usopp.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

The witch has been sitting on the floor of her shared room with Nami for a while now, ever since the navigator started reading. Zoro laid unconsciously on her bed, bandages wrapped around his torso. For a long time, she didn't even dare look at him.

She will be eternally grateful for Zeff's help — the chef cook of Baratie who snitched Zoro up and told them to do whatever was necessary to keep him alive, be it telling stories or singing sea shanties.

Despite the fact that Zoro's wound wasn't bleeding anymore, her heart still screamed at her.

With knees pulled up to her chest and her forehead resting in between them, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, subconsciously protecting herself from God-knows-what. She couldn't sleep either, despite listening to Nami's alluring voice as she read from a book.

The bandage on her upper arm was worn out and it's been longer than a day since Zoro wrapped it. It was dirty with blood from the time when she intentionally squeezed it before sobs could leave her lips.

Nami stopped reading, but the witch didn't register the lack of sounds surrounding her until she heard a voice. She didn't bother to raise her head, keeping her eyes closed as she responded:

"Can you say that again? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"Pull yourself together," Nami whispered.

The witch knew that if she'd look up, she'd see a scolding or maybe a worried pair of blue eyes staring at her.

"I will when the situation asks for it," plainly, she dismissed the navigator. "Until then, I couldn't give less of a fuck."

She was aware of her position, of how small she looked, curled like a ball against the wall, hugging herself and praying to every God she knew that the swordsman would wake up. It was pathetic, but there was no wiser way to hide her overwhelming pain. Wrapping around herself sounded like the most helpful option.

"There are a few things you two should talk about when he wakes up," Nami closed the book with a small thud.

"I'd tell anyone anything if I knew he'd wake up," this time, her voice trembled lightly.

The witch swallowed the lump in her throat that's been sitting there uncomfortably for hours, with no positive effect. The only way to even her breathing was by holding the air in her lungs for a few seconds and letting it all go with a long exhale.

"Nami."

Only then, the witch raised her head. She looked deplorable, with disheveled hair and sunken eyes, dark circles under them from the lack of sleep. Her chapped lips were red because she ripped the skin off with her nails again. There was no sign of life on her face.

Obviously, she's had better days. Everyone did, probably.

"Maybe it's because I'm sorrow-drunk and can't bring myself to hide it anymore, but I have to tell you something."

She's been debating on whether or not she shall tell Nami about her suspicions ever since she pulled out those two cards out of the tarot deck.

"I know you're hiding something, but you can't hide it from me."

The truth has been spoken. With her heart beating loudly in her eardrums and threatening to break her ribs, she continued.

"I know. You're planning betrayal."

The navigator's eyes widened as panic flooded in her soul. The orange haired woman had no clue where all this came from, didn't know how fuck she found out about that, when and why—

"I didn't tell anyone."

"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?" came out Nami's sharp response.

"I never expected you to admit it, if I am to be honest."

The witch rubbed her palms over her face and sighed heavily, as if a weight was pressed on top of her body.

"I also know there's more to the story. I don't know what or who you're protecting yourself from, I have no clue exactly why you're doing all this, but there's one thing I know for sure: the world is sitting on your shoulders, yet you refuse letting us help you carry it."

Nami stiffened in her chair. Her back straightened and her empty gaze pushed the witch out of her thoughts.

"Are you jumping to conclusions because of some stupid cards?"

"They definitely know more than me."

"Did you read you should treat your paranoia in there too?"

"While I admit there are times when I have crippling anxiety," the witch calmly stated, "I'm one hundred percent sure this isn't just a fairy tale. It's your choice to tell me or continue to keep it for yourself."

"But?" her voice lowered dangerously close to snapping.

"But we're not your enemies, Nami, and you know that well."

Not an answer the navigator expected, definitely.

"Zoro is unconscious on the bed and you're talking in metaphors — have you all gotten insane on this ship?"

"If I did, it was long before stepping on The Going Merry," the witch let out a stiffled laugh.

She dropped her forehead on her knees again, squeezing herself tighter in the embrace. The witch wasn't any less panicked than Nami, since opening up such a discussion scared her deeply. It was better than hiding and lying, though, and it felt less guilty.

"Why did you tell me this?" Nami asked with a whisper. "Be it right or wrong, why would you?"

"You don't deserve to be lied to, Nami. It makes me feel bad — hiding this from you made me feel like garbage from the start."

Even then, a gram of her guilt vanished.

"You're weirdly honest. You're aware this will haunt you one day, aren't you?"

"It's been haunting me since I got born," a sour smile painted the witch's face.

"The devil must've put some kind of curse on you."

"I only believe in evil spirits, sorry."

She didn't know where that soft laugh came from. Maybe it was her way of copying with the anxiety, with the pain. All she knew was that she hoped Nami wouldn't hide from them forever.

"Is there anything else you want to accuse me of?"

Faster than Usopp's snapping, Nami was once again serious, and the witch didn't have to look at her to figure it out.

"I never accused you. I know I'm right, but I'm not aware of the entire truth. You, on the other side, are aware of your own reality and I believe in your judgment. I hope you'll make the wisest decision and I'm saying this from the bottom of my heart."

"That's rich coming from someone so suspicious."

She's always been that way, the witch had to admit it. It wasn't only anxiety or tarot readings, there were times when she was straight up acting and thinking like a paranoid and it was cutting years off her life. Worrying and thinking over and over again, being hyper aware of everyone's actions, including her own.

Nami resumed her reading, her voice strained this time, as if she forced herself to talk out loud. Each syllable sounded rougher than the other, but that didn't stop the navigator from telling that story.

The witch wasn't paying attention, instead focusing on the moments spent with all of them, just like last night, when they were all eating and teasing each other. She needed to talk to Zoro, to tell him again that she's sorry.

Maybe he didn't hear me clearly before he fell unconscious, she wondered. She moved one of her arms and curled her fingers around the wound on her bicep. It stung good. If it could stop the stream of tears threatening to fall, then it was good, no matter how much it hurt, how the pain sunk deep into her bones, making her flinch.

There was something she wanted to clear out with Nami, but before the witch could speak, approaching steps made her mouth close shut. The presence felt light once her senses registered it, like a sparkling piece of hope — Luffy. She remained like a statue, breathing so slowly it was barely obvious she was still alive.

"Why did the king have to kill him?" he asked innocently.

He was referring to Nami's telling.

Without even having to glance up at him, the witch knew he was feeling unwell. There was no light in his voice and he sounded unsure of himself, so disoriented.

"Sometimes, when you are in charge, you have to make the tough decisions," she muttered between gritted teeth.

The witch knew where this conversation was heading.

"Why does everybody keep saying that?"

Luffy's voice desperately tried to reach out to the orange-haired woman.

Judging from the creaking of the chair, Nami got up from her seat as she spoke:

"Because you could've saved Zoro. He didn't have to fight Mihawk, but you let it happen. "

A few seconds of silence filled the room with thick tension.

"Look at her," Nami pointed with her chin towards the witch. "It looks like if he goes, she goes too. If one of us crumbles, everyone does. Look at us, at how we're handling it, at how Zoro does or, better said, how he doesn't handle it."

The witch couldn't understand why she was suddenly part of their conversation or why Nami took her side and tried to protect her from some unknown entity. Probably, she really looked worse than she thought. A sense of relief patched up one of the countless wounds under her skin when she figured out the navigator said all those things because she cared.

At the very same time, she knew Nami's words must've made Luffy suffer greatly, pushing her to raise her head and give her friends her entire attention.

"Nami," the witch intervened gently.

"You're in no place to talk," she cut her off quickly, her eyes like turbulent seas. "We're all a mess and it's all because of his stupid decision. But he could've been stopped," Nami turned her head to Luffy again.

"Nami, stop it," the witch furrowed her eyebrows. "Fighting will do no good. We've argued enough last night, there's no need for that anymore."

Nami was panicked and stressed out of her mind as well. Everything gave her away: the trembling hands, the shaking voice, tone close to breaking in a million pieces with each word, even the tears that gathered in her eyes. However, no drop rolled down her cheek.

"Tell me, Luffy," Nami vehemently continued with a tensed expression. "Would you see him like this? He might die."

Stop saying that, please, the witch thought as she took in another breath. He knows. Everyone knows. Please, stop saying he'll die because I might believe it too. I want to believe in him, not in whatever life changing lesson the universe gave me.

"And I'd do anything to save him," Luffy whispered with a tender smile on his face.

Me too. I'd rip my heart out of my chest and give it to him. I'd rip off my flesh and put it on his wounds. I'd die if I knew my life would be given to him.

"Anything," Luffy continued. "Except stand in the way of his dream."

God fucking dammit.

"We all have dreams, but we outgrow them," Nami clenched her teeth after she spoke.

"Is that really what you think?" Luffy's smile held so much hope. "Don't you have a dream?"

"Yeah. Right now, is for Zoro to not die in my bed," the navigator let out in a strangled voice.

"Isn't there something that you want? Something more," the straw hat whispered. "More than anything else in this world."

When the witch looked at Nami, it was obvious she was on the verge of tearing up, her nostrils flaring. Her eyes were already bloodshot.

"Not everyone gets to follow their dreams."

Nami didn't wait for any of them to respond before she walked out of the room. The witch got to her feet and tried to catch the navigator's hand in hers, but she wasn't fast enough. All she could do was glance at Luffy and place both of her palms on his shoulders, just like he did at the crack of dawn.

He looked at the witch with a hopeful and equally worried gaze.

"I know you meant the best when you encouraged him to follow his dream, Luffy," the witch squeezed his shoulders. "It's alright. Nami knows that as well. She's worried, like all of us. We all said hurtful things to each other lately."

His lips trembled when he attempted to say something, but he didn't dare to anymore. Instead, he searched for reassurance.

Was he in the wrong? Did Zoro get hurt because of him?

"It's not your fault," the witch continued with a tiny smile on her face. "I promise you. Everything led up to this. It couldn't have been avoided, unfortunately. No one could've stopped Zoro — you know he's a stubborn asshole."

Luffy scoffed.

"You know I'm right."

"I do," the straw hat nodded shily. "I think…" he gulped down, looking at his feet. "Maybe I can clean his sword for when he'll wake up."

"I'm sure he would be grateful about it. I'll stay here a bit longer."

She didn't let go of Luffy's shoulders until he moved away. Just to ease her concern, he smiled faintly at her before leaving the room.

Looking down at the unconscious pirate hunter, the witch couldn't believe her eyes. She gulped, not even daring to grasp at his hand, scared he'd break even because of a feather-like touch. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes for a few seconds, opening them again only to see the same man in the exact same position.

She was scared for him, for his life. She didn't want to be a nuisance and stop him from doing what he believed would bring him happiness. Or maybe that word was too much — but winning against Dracule Mihawk would've made him proud, it would've fulfilled a promise he made to someone long ago. She didn't know who was at the other end of the promise, but he seemed to be a man of his word, so trying to stop him turned her into a selfish person.

Her eyes were locked on his face, brushing with the back of her hand some small droplets of sweat on his forehead. She was worried out of her mind, now regretting she didn't do more to stop him, to make him change his mind when he was maybe too drunk to think twice.

"Be careful, Zoro," the witch told him back then, her gaze betraying the worry crippling through her entire being.

She was right. He should've been more careful. He should've been less reckless, should've listened to Nami and her, even if Luffy encouraged him to chase his dream. Was it really worth it?

Once again, she sighed. She was selfish, greedy, it was wrong to think that his dream wasn't worth the entire world. Heck, even she would do anything for him, just to see him open his eyes again, just to hear another bored or witty remark coming from between his lips.

Instead, he was silent and still, only the slow movement of his chest visible as he breathed. It was the only thing that managed to bring her an ounce of comfort.

At least he was alive, she continued telling herself.

It was clawing at her heart, messing with it, her thoughts roaming around, jumping one on top of another. She was overthinking again, the worst habit she could've had — or that's what she silently believed for years.

The witch should've fought with him to death back then, when he was stubborn enough to throw Nami's words at her while they argued. Maybe it would've made him change his mind. As she continued looking at him, she worthlessly tried to take some of the blame for what happened.

Hidden under his bandages, the same wound made the woman standing by his side believe she saw the Death Reaper, even if he was the one unconscious on a bed.

Carefully, she sat down next to him, without taking her eyes off of him even for a moment.

"You're kind of worrying us all, y'know? Luffy is in denial of your possible death and Nami seems restless. Usopp is too silent for his usual self," she whispered.

Her first instinct was to touch him, but her fingertips hovered above his hand. She didn't know if it would've been right to seek the warmth of his skin while he wasn't even awake. All the witch could do was hope that deep down in his soul, he felt and heard all of them.

"I'm worried too. No. Worried is an understatement. I'm terrified," the words trembled as they left her lips, the same chopped lips she sank her teeth into. "I'd rather have you call me an idiot," she chuckled sourly.

With slow and careful gestures, she gathered enough courage to caress his hand with her fingers, feeling small cuts here and there. He was still warm, which eased a few of her worries.

She made a long pause, staring at the seemingly lifeless man she would give her life for.

"Remember when we drank together on the deck, two nights ago?"

A fragile smile appeared on her face at the reminder of that night. She stole the last drop of his bottle before he could finish it with a grin, playfully nudging at his ribs. He failed to threaten her about how she owes him something for that. He was handling his liquor better than her and yet, he couldn't hide his smirk or the sparkle in his eyes.

That night, bottles later, the witch got dizzy and tipsy. At first, she almost fell into a sea of melancholy after she shared pieces of her with Zoro. She doesn't remember how, but he got her laughing way too easy with his remarks and some silly stories.

"You're flushed already," he pointed out back then.

"You're kinda rosy in the cheeks as well, swordsman."

At that time she damned the alcohol for the soft gaze she had when she looked at him. Her eyes were sparkling with adoration when they danced on his face, peace sinking in her very bones in his presence. She shouldn't have drank. It was so obvious that she had a soft spot for him, that he had a special place in her heart not even a month after they met.

And who was at fault for her drunken state that night? Roronoa Zoro, obviously. He was at fault when she giggled and talked too much about too many things at once, so much more passion in her words than usual — was that even possible? he thought to himself. She always had a light and warm way of talking, her voice many times giving away her feelings.

A promise was a promise, even if she didn't wholeheartedly accept it from the beginning. She surrendered quickly and told him that yes, she owes him something, maybe a secret.

The witch remembered everything the next day, but acted like her memory had faded. The realization hit her hard the next morning, when she figured out her irrational fear of sharing secrets. She shouldn't have made that promise, so she played dumb, as if the conversation they had was forgotten about.

"Maybe it's not exactly a secret, but I like it when you call me by my name."

Maybe he hears me.

"I didn't hear my name being spoken for a long time. It makes me emotional every time, with no exception."

You're a crybaby, he should've said.

Her hand fully settled on top of his while the witch continued to slowly rub her fingertips into his skin, trying to bring herself back to earth even if her thoughts were sailing through unfortunate memories.

"I wasn't called by my name for years after my father became a pirate," she continued the story that started during their drinking night. "He aimed to become an Admiral and he was part of the Navy Forces for half of his life. For a long time, he thought he could do better than his comrades and hoped he could change the corruption that took place in the Government and the Marines. Insane, right?" she let out a sour chuckle. "An Admiral becoming a pirate. Everyone called him insane."

Once again, she smiled at the faint memories of her father's warm smile. There were details she didn't mention that night on the deck, like the status of her father in the Navy.

"I didn't reach ten yet when he left. He considered it would've been dangerous to stay with us and, if I am to be honest, mom would've kicked him out of their home."

Their home, because that place was never her home.

"Calling me by my name would've meant he still has ties with me and someone might've taken advantage of that."

Nine years ago, the witch was a child who only learnt how to use a kitchen knife for cutting vegetables. That child has been stripped of her innocence a few years later.

"A few times a year he would visit me. He would hide from the Marines, while I would hide from my mom. I still remember how he was so much happier. He looked younger, like he was living his teenage years and not his thirties. Except for a few days I'd stay with him and his crew, he was roaming around the seas. He never judged a single soul, believing it wasn't his job to do so, even if he would protect anyone who needed help. He changed the meaning of a pirate in a good way."

She turned her head towards the window, watching the blue sky mingling with the sea and the port of Baratie where people were walking on the wooden battens.

"He was caught by the Marines while he visited me and killed in the center of the city," her voice lowered to a gentle whisper, just like the breeze coming from the open window and giving her goosebumps.

She remembers that moment all too clearly, eyebrows knitting together as she squeezed Zoro's hand lightly, hoping it would bring some comfort to her shattered heart.

A life that felt like an eternity already made her believe her name was like damnation for anyone who said it. A few syllables being spoken and you'd be cursed to die one way or another, since her mother refused to call by the name her father chose when she saw light for the first time. Her father and his crew were the only ones calling her name so dearly, with honey latched onto their voices, treating her like a daughter.

She was someone's daughter when she was with them. And now, by Luffy's side, she was someone's friend.

"I don't want to watch you die too," only then she looked at him again. "Don't die on me. Don't leave us alone."

There was determination in her tone, mingling with pain and sorrow. Half of her believed in him the same way she believed the sea was blue and that leaves were green. The other half drowned in anguish.

Zoro seemed almost serene, despite the small frown that never left his face. She took in a deep breath and moved her hand away from his, only to lean over and rest her elbows on her knees.

She needed some fresh air.

The witch got up and left the room in a hurry, before tears would've slipped down her cheeks. She pushed it all aside, holding it in, since there was no time to weep at anyone's grave. Zoro was still breathing, even if half dead.

He will get better. He had to.

She walked into the galley. Standing up in front of the table was Sanji, wearing only his white and blue checkered shirt, the black jacket suit abandoned on the armrest of the couch. He was cutting some vegetables, skillfully holding the knife.

On the cushions sat Luffy, cleaning Zoro's white sword, just like he said. Meanwhile, Usopp was the one to notice her first, leaning with his hands prompted onto the wooden table. Nami couldn't be spotted anywhere.

The sound of her own name almost made her flinch. The witch blinked quickly, looking at Usopp. Both Sanji and Luffy looked at her then. The latter had some deep puppy eyes — her heart aches at that look alone.

"How is he?"

"Unconscious," she breathed out softly.

She let out a sigh and ran her fingers through her hair, her eyebrows pulled together.

"I suppose you haven't eaten anything since yesterday," Sanji smiled gently. "Anything I could make for you?"

"I appreciate it, really, but I don't have an appetite," she dismissed him with a faint smile of her own.

"You could use some energy, you know," Usopp mumbled.

"You, Luffy? What would you like to eat?" Sanji got back to chopping the vegetables.

"I'm not hungry right now. You could make something for Zoro. He'll surely be hungry when he wakes up!"

Their captain still had hope bubbling in his chest and it was the only thing keeping them all afloat.

However, the witch couldn't bear to think about it anymore. She spotted her shirt hanging on a nail in the wall, close to the couch. With a quick gesture, she grabbed at it, intending to put it on herself until the heavy scent of blood filled her senses the second time that day—

The shirt was soaked in Zoro's blood from the time when she used it to stop the bleeding of his wound. Nausea crawled up her throat and she unintentionally dropped the piece of cloth when she became aware of the sickness settling deeply in the pitch of her stomach.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

With a hand covering her mouth, she rushed out of the galley, on the deck, the doors shutting harshly behind her. She leaned over the railing as the acidic taste made its way up her throat and on her tongue.

A disgusting sensation, truly.

She's seen blood before, she saw countless corpses laying at her feet, but nothing could compare with the vision of a dear person giving their last breath. She couldn't believe she vomited because of blood, such a normal occurrence in her life.

But it wasn't just any kind of blood — it was Zoro's and it sunk into the material of her own shirt.

She will have to throw it away. There's no way in hell she would manage to ever wear that again, even if it would be clean and smelling like lavender.

Tears clung to her eyelashes when she opened her eyes again, looking down into the sea. She was breathing heavily and she regretted swallowing her own saliva, as the awful taste lingered in her mouth unpleasantly.

Warm fingers touched her shoulder and before she saw whose hand it was, there was a glass of water being shoved towards her. When she glanced up, she saw the blonde waiter.

"Thank you, Sanji," she took the glass from his hand, sipping slowly as the gentle weight on her shoulder disappeared.

"If I knew such a beautiful lady was waiting for me to wake up, I would've opened my eyes much sooner."

The waiter — who could apparently also cook like a professional — said that in a somewhat flirtatious tone. Also, there was compassion lingering in his honeyed voice.

"If Zoro would hear you, he would've thrown you overboard."

Nami.

The witch didn't even notice her on the deck until that moment, her head snapping towards the navigator, her eyes sparkling with hope as she gripped at the glass in between her fingers. Nami was a few meters away from her, with her back facing the sea and her hands curled around the railing.

The witch has seen Nami's expression countless times when she looked in the mirror after a crying fit. The same bloodshot eyes and puffy eyes, the red tip of her nose and the husky voice.

"I don't remember you having sea sickness," Nami pried into her soul.

The witch looked towards the water at the bottom of her glass, ashamed of her own reaction.

"Because I don't have sea sickness," the witch whispered weakly, basically admitting her vulnerable state.

She was more than just thankful Sanji chose not to elaborate on the reason behind her reaction. There was still acid sitting on her tongue, even after she gulped down the last droplets of water from her glass.

"Where are you heading to?"

The witch noticed when Nami straightened her back and walked away, towards the dock.

"Maybe I can find another drink at the restaurant," Nami waved the back of her hand at the witch.

That sounded very familiar to a lie for some reason, but was it the witch's place to comment?

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Familiar fear made its way through her body, scratching underneath the skin, whispering in her ear like a mantra the same phrase her mother has always told her: "there's nothing you can do about it, so accept it."

Those words always unsettled the young witch deeply. She heard that voice everytime she hid in a room with the books her grandmother left behind, pages filled with tarot and palmistry, the promise of real magic, different from the fairy tales. It sounded and felt palpable, her eyes sparkling. Those books were her treasure, a future filled with freedom.

The same words were being shouted in her ears by the ghosts when her body stiffened in its spot. She wanted to scream while the man who was her father was dragged away by Marines, this time on the port of Baratie, not in her hometown.

The deafening yell she wanted to let out was silent. Her lips didn't even part and her awareness slipped away as she continued to see blood pooling at her father's feet, his signature royal blue coat painted in crimson. As if her vocal chords broke before she opened her mouth, no sound left her lips.

"He deserved it," sounded so clear in her ear, as if her mother stood right beside her, watching the same scene unfolding over and over again.

No, no, I can't let him die! I need to do something! Please, dad, you can't—

The man who stood proudly was dying, his body decomposing right before her eyes. A sickening view, as the skin melted off the meat, leaving only bones and tendons behind, covered by heavy clothes, two empty holes in his cranium instead of beautiful sparkling eyes. Blood dried on the white bones and sunk into the material of his coat and it flowed towards her, to the tips of her boots—

"Luffy! Arlong is here and he's after you, we have to leave now!"

The witch gasped loudly, her eyes snapping open. Nami, who just entered, was panting heavily, fingers gripping at the edge of the doorframe.

Who's Arlong?

She noticed Luffy who just got up from the chair he was sitting on, right by Zoro's side. Usopp had his fingers curled around one of the ropes holding the bed in the room hanging in the air.

There were no dead corpses around. Gosh, that nightmare was scary as hell. Her heart still drummed in her eardrums, blood rushing through her veins at an alarming pace.

She managed to get on her feet, her palm glued to the wall to support herself.

"Where do you think you're going, Luffy?"

Nami was panicked. Her fear grew steadily, just like fire, and she was on the edge of cussing out that entire bunch of confident idiots.

"We can't let Arlong hurt people just because of us. He might kill everyone if we don't step in."

Luffy was rarely so serious, but the situation asked for it. However, the navigator was anything but happy with his suicidal decision.

The witch turned her head towards the unconscious swordsman. She took in a deep breath, calming the waters threatening to destroy her mind. Then, her warm gaze raised back to the navigator who squeezed the map in between her trembling fingers.

"You'll stay here and protect the ship, Nami," Luffy smiled reassuringly. "I trust you."

The orange haired woman searched for a different reaction from the witch, but received the same determination.

"Have you all grown insane?" she whispered in horror.

The witch made slow steps towards her and engulfed her in a warm hug, wrapping her arms around the navigator's body. She squeezed her gently, resting her chin on Nami's shoulder.

"Something is troubling you greatly. Don't lie to me," the witch whispered in her ear softly. "You've got something in your head and you're pushing all of us away. We trust you, even if it'll bring us our death."

That's what scared Nami the most.

The witch parted just to look into Nami's troubled blue eyes.

"We'll be alright. We have to be. We'll figure it out together."

She had no clue how much Nami wanted to believe her, but it was impossible to do so. The navigator knew better what danger awaits them in Baratie now that Arlong appeared, that monster—.

Right. That's what pirates were: monsters. So why did the ones in front of her look like friends instead of demons stealing her life away?

The witch squeezed her shoulders and smiled so warmly, so calmly, different from the agitation they would face.

For one second only, Nami dared to believe. Then, it crumbled to her feet when Luffy and the witch left her room with one glance back at Zoro.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

The witch found herself in the restaurant once again. Her fingers gripped tightly at the gun she held, finding comfort in the familiar weight settled in her hand. On purpose, she stood behind the other three men, sharp eyes scanning her surroundings carefully. They were lucky they chose to enter from the first floor, since she could easily hide.

She wasn't hiding for the reasons some would think of. The witch intentionally stood on the side, analyzing the situation. First of all, she had to find the smallest opportunity to find a weak spot for that fishman. From her spot, still glued to the wall and hidden from everyone's eyes, she focuses on Luffy's conversation with Arlong.

"I expected someone… bigger," Arlong commented with a wide grin, sharp teeth on full display.

He could definitely be classified as scary, but the witch didn't want to admit that to herself. Was he dangerous? Of course.

"Me too," Luffy commented.

Alright, maybe Luffy had far more confidence than she thought, since he dared to make fun of that fishman, angering him. It wasn't enough that Luffy was hunted down by Arlong, he had to make him angry as well—

What was she scared of?

She took in a deep breath and a few seconds were enough for her heartbeat to beat at a normal pace. The witch didn't have enough time to worry about consequences, she had to find their weakness quickly and act on it.

While her focus slipped from them, Luffy was already walking down one of the two pairs of stairs meeting up at the first floor of the restaurant. Arlong threatened the straw hat about something and the first thing she heard was the deafening sound of a shotgun.

The same sound was followed by a soft chiming filling the silence.

Her chest tightened since no groan of pain could be heard from anyone. When she glanced at the people downstairs, she saw Zeff — the cook who stitched Zoro up — with a gun pointed at Arlong. However, the fishman only turned his head back and cocked an eyebrow at the cook.

The bullet was most probably what caused that chiming sound. It seemed like fishmen's scales were bulletproof.

Fucking great. Her long range fighting style wasn't to her advantage.

An ounce of fear uncomfortably gnawed at her courage. The witch hated that helpless sensation, as if there was no escape, as if that was her dead end.

Her fingers gripped tighter around her gun, until the skin turned yellow.

I can't chicken out now. I don't have the luxury of turning my back against a fight in such a critical situation.

She swallowed the lump in her throat after she bit so hard onto her lower lip she tasted copper on her tongue.

Everyone has a weakness, right? Fishmen must have one as well.

On the floor below, Luffy threw his stretchy arms at Arlong, with his hands curled into fists. Zeff was harshly thrown into a table that broke down, making Sanji jump into action as well. Usopp was the only one that remained upstairs, uselessly hiding behind the decorative wrought iron railing — he could be easily seen.

Crouching down to Usopp's level, the witch slowly walked towards him with the gun still in her hand. When his eyes fell on her, he blinked like a confused owl.

"Guns don't work!" he whisper-shouted at her, horror painting his features.

With a sigh, she grinned cheekily.

"Are you running, scaredy-cat?" she taunted him with an arched eyebrow.

"Are you insane?" he frowned when she was a few inches away from him. "You can't seriously believe your gun is gonna do any damage to those monsters."

Glancing down between the iron bars of the railing, the witch spotted other two fishmen getting up from their table. So there were three in total.

With an unusually serious tone, she stared into Usopp's eyes, determination oozing out of her.

"You can't run now, Usopp. I hope you're aware of that."

"Even you hesitated for a second!"

His nervous demeanor and his over-thinking habits got the best of him at that moment. He was equally scared and amazed by the witch's courage.

"That was before I realized there's no going back. Usopp," she lowered her tone, fingers gripping at his shirt to bring him down from the clouds. "If you choose to run away, you will never become a brave warrior of the seas. Do you hear yourself? We're not running anywhere. We have to fight if we don't want to leave Luffy and Sanji to deal with the fishmen on their own."

She wasn't exactly good at motivational speeches, but that seemed to shake his soul well enough.

"Now help me find out their soft spots so we can bring those idiots down before they destroy this entire restaurant and eat us alive."

Bullets couldn't penetrate their scales. She didn't know if blades could work any better either. Also, Arlong alone had the highest bounty in the East Blue, not his friends. He was most probably much stronger than them.

If she could bring down at least one of the other two fishman, it was also a win.

Then, an idea popped into her head.

Their eyes.

They didn't have anything protecting their eyes except for the fact that they were sunk into their faces. With her aim, she had a chance to shoot one of them. She had to take advantage of the fact that no one knew she was there and making a plan.

Taking in a deep breath, the witch placed the gun between the iron bars and aimed at the fishman with ridiculously big lips. She wasn't exactly that far away, but she had to concentrate. One single miss and everything would go down, since her presence would be obvious and her hand to hand fighting skills weren't that well developed against raw strength.

She waited patiently, Usopp still by her side. Once the fishman stood still, turned towards her, she pulled the trigger of her gun.

The bullet struck his eye and he groaned in pain, receiving a proud smile from the witch who quickly hid behind a table from upstairs, dragging Usopp with her. Her heartbeat was so fast in her ears it could leave her deaf.

She had to pull herself together.

"You've got good aim," Usopp's voice trembled.

"Thanks," she breathed out heavily, eyes closing for a second.

There was an entire tornado in her soul. The witch knew there was no place for running away, but she was equally aware of her disadvantage against fishmen who fight with their fists.

Zoro would've loved the thrill of this fight.

But he wasn't there to joke about her being a scared little lady.

And Nami wasn't there to yell into her face and tell her to wake the fuck up and help her find a better plan.

Before she had a chance to notice, Usopp was crawling down the stairs on the left once an idea popped into his head, or that was what the witch thought.

She felt a certain presence walking up the stairs on her right and her eyes widened. The other fishman spotted her.

"Here you were, wench," he spoke with a growl.

She didn't have enough time to scramble to her feet before a rough hand wrapped around her neck and lifted her up in the air, pushing her against the wall. She could barely even groan when her breathing was restricted by the awfully strong grip the fishman had on her throat.

Her gun fell from her hand and hit the floor with a weak sound.

Uselessly, her fingers grabbed at the muscled blue arm holding her up, feet a few inches away from the floor. Compared to him, her grip was weak, insignificant.

The witch was never the type to necessarily wish to live, but she certainly didn't want to die in that moment, when others' lives were hanging on a thread.

Also, she didn't want that ugly fucking fishman with big lips to be the last sight before she closed her eyes forever.

Dammit.

Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58 @katiemrty @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @freyademartel @boofy1998 @ponyboys-sunsets @melsunshine @loveyluv7 @waddlingwanderer @jesssssmaybankk @nadlx33333 @yoong1c0re @untoldshortsofthefandoms @mizzy-pop

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sailor-aviator · 6 months

Text

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Five

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, Mean girl Mandy, Flirting, Alcohol, Siren call, Supernatural elements, Kind of suggestive/smutty but not really? idk

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Alright, alright! The ball is starting to roll! We've got a lot going on now, I think. Can't wait to hear y'all's thoughts! Also, shoutout to @goldenseresinretriever for letting me bounce ideas off of her! You the real MVP!! If you're feeling kind/generous, please consider buying me a ko-fi! Also, if you DO NOT fill out the form below (Tag List) then you will not be tagged! I will be referring to that Google form from now on! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

“I thought the bonfires happened the other night?” You asked Bob as the two of you made your way down the practically deserted streets. It was late, and the only people out were the young adults still looking to have a good time. The family friendly activities had ended hours ago, and now it was time for the partying to start.

“They were supposed to,” he said, eyes scanning the dimly lit street, “but they got postponed because of all the rain the other week. This was the only night that worked for most everyone around town.”

“That works out for us, I guess,” you hummed, hearing the sound of crashing waves grow closer as you neared the beach.

“Hey, thing one and thing two!”

The two of you turned around to see a grinning Bradley jogging up behind you, and you turned with a smile to greet him.

“Hey, Bradley!” You chirped. “We thought you’d already be down at the beach with everyone else.”

“I was, but I forgot my phone at the house,” he said, waving his phone in his hand. “So I ran back to grab it. Everyone else should already be down there, though.”

“We better get a move on before all the drinks are gone,” Bob mused, already moving once again. Bradley fell into step alongside you, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, Skipper,” he joked, casting a smirk down at you. “You been avoiding me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you giggled.

Bradley scoffed, giving you an offended look that was made less serious by the grin on his face. “Me? Avoid you? Don’t be ridiculous. Who in their right mind would avoid a sweet, little thing like you?”

“You must not really know her then,” Bob snorted. “She practically cut my hand off when I went for the last fry at lunch today.”

“That was entirely your fault,” you huffed, sticking your tongue out at him. “You know how much I love french fries.”

“Yeah, enough to cause grievous bodily injuries, apparently,” he smirked. You scowled at him before looking back at Bradley who was also smirking at you.

“He’s being dramatic,” you offered with a shrug.

“Barely.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” you griped as the three of you walked down the stairs and onto the beach. You could see the glow from the various fires flicker in the night, groups of different people huddled around each one. “I have to set an alarm every morning to wake up before he does if I want any bacon.”

“Oh, trust me,” Bradley laughed, steering you towards a fire on the edge of the grouping, Bob in tow. “I grew up with him. I know how much bacon he puts away.”

“I am not that bad,” Bob huffed, earning identical dubious looks from both you and Bradley. You giggled when Bradley quirked his eyebrow at you.

“Sure you aren’t, Bob,” you laughed, earning a scowl from your best friend.

“You made it!”

The three of you turned to see Nat waving at you, the rest of the squad already settled in on the towels surrounding the small fire. You felt a shiver run up your spine as you made eye contact with a pair of mossy green ones. You looked away as your cheeks warmed, letting Bradley guide you across the fire and down on a group of towels, Bob on your other side.

“So,” said the brunette sitting next to Jake, blue eyes calculating as she took you in. She was just as beautiful as the last time you saw her. Tan skin glowed in the light from the fire, body lithe and athletic. She looked like she walked off the cover of a fashion magazine, and her narrowed gaze was trained on you, lips curled into waht appeared to be a permanent sneer. “You must be the tagalong I’ve heard so much about. Skipper was it?”

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing over at Bradley as he stiffened next to you, a glare fixed on his face as he looked at her.

“Yeah,” you said, offering an anxious smile as you looked back at her. “That’s what they call me anyway.”

“It’s cute,” she said, tone indicating that she most certainly did not find it cute. “I’m Mandy. You’ve probably heard of me from the others.”

“Oh, yeah,” you smiled. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I’m not surprised,” she continued with a smirk. “I’ve known everyone here since we were in diapers. We go way back, you know. Don’t feel bad if you end up feeling left out in our conversations, okay?”

You shifted again, this time knocking your knee into your bag. The shells you carried with you jostled, clinking together, and you blushed when everyone looked at you.

“What was that?” Mickey asked, peering over to get a better look. You lifted your bag as you began to pull each shell out and placing it carefully on the towel.

“Oh, these are the shells and things I’ve been finding everywhere!” You smiled, running your fingers over the conch. “Aren’t they amazing? I’ve never seen so many beautiful shells in my life! And they’re all perfectly in tact, can you believe it? It’s like someone just plucked them up off the ocean floor and set them out for me to find!”

“That’s quite a collection,” Nat chuckled, shooting a smirk off to the side. You followed her line of sight, and your eyes made direct contact with the mossy green ones from earlier. Jake looked at you with an expression that could only be described as awe as he took you in, eyes peering down to where you cradled the conch gently in your hands before looking back up at you. His eyes shone in the firelight, a hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. You felt another blush creep up your neck, and you leaned forward to place the conch closer to the fire for everyone to see. You heard a sharp intake of breath, and you looked up to see Mandy with a look of rage and shock on her face as she stared at you. You realized quickly she wasn’t staring at your face, but rather down at the base of your neck. Her eyes darted up to meet yours and her expression shifted quickly into one of cold contempt.

“You actually carry those around with you?” She sneered, scoffing out a laugh. “What are you? Five?”

You frowned up at her, suddenly feeling self conscious as you glanced around the group. Their smiles had shifted into looks of irritation as they glared at the brunette.

“Oh, I just-”

“I mean,” she sniffed, cutting you off, “I suppose it’s fitting for someone who looks like you though, right? You’re not exactly dressed to impress or anything.”

You looked down at your clothes, a frown on your face. You weren’t normally self conscious. Sure, you didn’t look like a model like Mandy, but you didn’t think you were hard on the eyes. You had dressed for comfort though, and it was plain to see in your jean shorts, tank top, and white button up. Mandy wore a pair of cutoffs and a tight fitting tank top that showed off her figure, and her makeup was immaculate. You hadn’t seen the point in putting any on. Should you have?

“Mandy,” Bob growled, glaring in a warning.

“Oh, I know she’s your friend and all, Bobby,” Mandy continued, a viscious smirk poised on her lips. “But let’s be honest. I mean, we’re among friends, right? And friends should be honest with each other. You’d be lucky if anyone gave you the time of day looking like that. Nevermind the silly, little shells you’re carrying around everywhere. You really should have left those back at the house, you know. And tell me you brought something nice to where for the ocean dance festival. Can you imagine if you wore some frumpy shorts to something like tha-”

“Shut up.”

All eyes turned to Jake who was glaring into the fire, eyes cold as the water that lapped the shore behind you. Mandy narrowed her eyes at him, rage clouding her features.

“Excuse me?” She spat, turning to face him. His gaze shifted to her, jaw clenching.

“Was I not clear enough?” He said evenly. “I said ‘shut up.’”

You hadn’t even realized that tears had gathered in your eyes until Bob laid a gentle hand on your shoudler causing you to jump. You looked over at him, sniffling as he gave you a concerned look. You wiped at the corner of your eyes, scrambling to your feet. You felt everyone’s eyes on you as you shifted from one foot to the other, avoiding their gazes.

“I’m, uh,” you gulped, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “I’m gonna go get something to drink.”

“I’ll come with you,” Bradley said, moving to his feet and giving you a gentle smile. “I’m parched.”

You turned to Bob with a watery smile. “You want anything?”

He studied you for a second, eyes uncertain. You gave him a look that you hoped communicated your need to pretend like you were okay, and he pressed his lips together.

“Just a beer.”

“You got it!” You smiled, trying and failing to add your usual cheeriness to the statement. You gave a half smile that you were sure came off as more of a grimace as you made your way towards the line of coolers on the other side of the fires. Bradley followed you silently, and you kept your head down, feeling the tears start to stream down your cheeks.

You knew you were being silly. They were just words after all, and you were a grown woman. You shouldn’t be letting silly words get to you like this. But why did they hurt so bad? You knelt by one of the coolers, fishing out two beers and a coke. You handed one of the beers to Bradley, refusing to make eye contact with him as you pushed the lid to the cooler closed.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing onto your arm gently, pulling you so that you faced him.

You kept your head down, and Bradley let out a sigh.

“Listen,” he started, hesitating as if he were choosing his next words carefully. “You shouldn’t listen to Mandy, okay? She’s a stone cold bitch on the best of days, and, well, she’s never been told ‘no’ a day in her life. She’s always gotten what she wanted, when she wanted it.”

“What’s your point?” You muttered, glancing off to the side as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Bradley let out another sigh, taking his hand from your arm to run it through his hair.

“My point is that she’s taking her new experience with the word out on you, and it’s not fair. I know it’s hard, but just ignore her, okay? She’s just jealous.”

“Of me?” You scoffed, finally meeting his gaze. Bradley smirked down at you, casting you a wink.

“You’re pretty great, Skipper,” he hummed. “Anyone with eyes can see it. Now, come on. Let’s head back to the others, yeah?”

You nodded, and the two of you made your way back to the fire. As you approached, you noted that Jake was the only one still there, eyes trained on the flames in front of him, seemingly deep in thought. He jumped when Bradley plopped down next to him, leaving just enough room for you to slide in between them.

“Where’d the others go?” Bradley asked, twisting the top off his beer and taking a swig from the bottle. Jake grimaced, gesturing around towards the other fires.

“Take your pick.”

Bradley hummed, leaning back on the towel with his legs outstretched towards the fire. The three of you were silent for a moment, and you felt a tingling sensation on your left side. You turned to find Jake already looking at you, eyes soft as they took you in. Your breath caught in your throat, cheeks flushing. You thought you should have been been creeped out with how intensely he was staring at you, but you felt oddly comfortable under his gaze. In fact, you found yourelf sitting up a little straighter, almost preening under his gaze, and a small smile tugged on Jake’s lips as he took you in, eyes blazing as they reached your neck.

You jumped as Bradley suddenly leaned over in front of you, breaking the spell you found yourself under. A shit eating grin was etched onto his face as he looked at Jake.

“Did you know Skipper here always wanted to be a mermaid?”

You felt yourself begin to splutter as your cheeks warmed for a different reason, eyes growing wide as you peered between the two men. Bradley waggled his eyebrows as Jake’s own shot up on his forehead. A smirk graced his lips, giving him a devilish look to his already handsome features. He looked at you, smirk intensifying as he saw your flustered state. He leaned forward, smirk growing into a grin as you glanced away.

“Is that so?” He hummed, warm breath ghosting over your face.

“I will remind you that I was, like, five at the time,” you snapped, glaring at Bradley. He only chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he smirked lazily up at you.

“I think you’d make a cute mermaid, don’t you agree, Jake?”

Jake nodded with another hum, eyes taking on a look you couldn’t place, but it made you squirm nonetheless.

“Just imagine her swimming around with all her little fishy sidekicks,” Bradley teased, eyes alight with mischief. You scoffed, turning to face him.

“As if,” you snarked, “my sidekick wouldn’t be a fish, it would be a stingray.”

Jake quirked an eyebrow. “Why a stingray?”

“Oh,” you blushed, your nerves kicking up again. “Because they’re my favorite.”

Jake nodded slowly, like he was trying to commit that fact to memory. Bradley snorted beside you, and the two of you looked over at where he was smirking, eyes peeking at Jake before looking back at you.

“How could I forget?” He drawled, taking another sip of his beer. “I met Rusty when you and I were snuggled in bed the other morning.”

“That’s not-”

You were cut off by a growl to your left. You turned to see Jake’s entire expression had changed. His jaw was clenched, eyes trained on Bradley as if he wanted to take his head off. His fists were clenched so tight, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was drawing blood from where his fingernails dug into his palms. He was almost too still as he glared at Bradley, the other man looking smug as he took in his friend’s appearance.

“Are you okay?” You asked the blond, and his eyes glanced over at you, gaze seeming to soften as he took in your concern.

“Bradshaw!” Reuben called from across the way. “Get your ass over here!”

Bradley heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes as he got to his feet. “And that’s my cue,” he muttered.

You watched as he strutted over to where Reuben and Mickey were gathered with a group of people you didn’t know, leaving you alone with Jake.

“He’s such an ass sometimes,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Isn’t he one of your best friends?” You asked him with a giggle. Jake’s demeanor seemed to relax at the sound.

“Unfortunately,” he grumbled, casting another glare over at where Bradley stood chatting and laughing.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You frowned, noticing how tense he still seemed to be. He looked back at you, hesitating before letting out a sigh.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just feeling a little overheated or something,” he muttered, flexing his hands as he uncurled his fists. He moved to stand, and you followed suit.

“Think I’m going to go take a walk to cool off,” he mused, rolling his shoulders back. You frowned, rubbing a hand over your arm.

“Oh, okay,” you said, glancing at the ground, shifting your feet in the sand that covered the towel. Jake seemed to hesitate once more, chewing his bottom lip.

“Do you want to join me?” He asked you, his green eyes hopeful as you met his gaze. You felt a smile tug on your lips as you nodded.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you murmured, moving to grab your bag. You stopped when you noticed it was placed neatly on top of the towel you had been sitting on previously, shells already back inside.

“I, uh,” Jake stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want anything to happen to them, so I put them back in your bag. I guess I should have asked first instead of just moving them. I’m sorry if I-”

“No,” you smiled, “it’s okay. Thank you.”

Jake gave you a nervous, tight lipped smile before nodding. “You can leave your bag here if you want. No one is going to take it.”

You returned his nod, gesturing for him to lead the way down the beach.

The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes, the ocean waves crashing off to your right, and the cool, night breeze ruffling your hair.

“Listen,” Jake started, stopping to turn to you, eyes earnest as they took you in. “I’m sorry about Mandy-”

“Oh, no, Jake,” you frowned, shaking your head. “You don’t have to apologize for her.”

“No, but I do,” he stated firmly, face serious as he looked at you. “It’s my fault she’s taking it out on you. She’s been so convinced that she and I are going to end up together, and now that she knows that’s not the case, she’s on the warpath.”

“Jake,” you sighed, “I understand feeling some kind of weird responsibility for her, but her actions are her own. You shouldn’t have to apologize on her behalf. She’s a big girl just like I am, right? We’re adults who are capable of making our own decisions and apologizing for the wrong we do. None of this is your fault.”

He didn’t look convinced, and you took his hand in yours to offer him some kind of reassurance. A bolt of electricity ran through you, causing you to let out a gasp, and a warmth rushed over you, causing you to squirm. You felt like a magnet, drawn to Jake in a way that you couldn’t even begin to understand. You wanted to feel more of him, to consume and be consumed by him. You had never felt anything like it in your life, and you looked up at him hazy eyes to find that he wasn’t any better off.

His own eyes had a haze to them, seeming to glow in the moonlight. His breathing came out labored, almost like he was fighting to maintain his composure. His eyes raked over you, a hand coming up to rest on your cheek, and you nuzzled into it without thinking.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathed, voice barely above a whisper as he inched closer to you.

“You’re just saying that,” you muttered, leaning into him.

“No,” he stated firmly, causing you to jump just a hair. His other hand came up to rest on your hip, pulling you closer so that you were practically molded against him.

“No,” he said again, gentler this time. “I mean it. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

If it were possible, you were sure your skin would have heated up even more than it already was. As it stood, a pleasant warmth spread through you at his proximity, and the hand that was cradling your cheek slowly drifted down until it brushed the mark on your neck. You let out a wanton cry at the shock of pleasure that jolted through you at the simple touch, and Jake smirked down at you, stroking softly over the mark again and again as he drew more pleasured cries from you.

“It’s okay,” he cooed, leaning his forehead against yours, nuzzling his nose against the tip of yours. “I’ve got you.”

You couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed at the intense amount of pleasure you felt at the simplest of touches, too focused on the way his hands felt on you. You raised your own, one hand cradling his cheek as the other ran through his golden hair. He let out a groan as you tugged gently on the soft strands, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that spread across your face. Jake’s eyes met yours, the green of them so intense that it took your breath away. He glanced down at your lips, slowly leaning in-

“Jacob Seresin!”

You gasped, grasping at your ears at the almost inhuman shriek that pierced the night air. Jake pulled back, placing you almost protectively behind him. You peered around him to see Mandy glaring at him, blue eyes practically glowing with rage. Her gaze turned to you, and you shrank back slightly, hiding behind Jake a little more. This only served to make Mandy even more irate, and she snarled as she stomped closer to the two of you.

Jake bristled, standing taller as he continued to block you from Mandy’s warpath.

“How dare you,” she spat at him, lips pulled back into a sneer. “You’re mine.”

“No,” Jake growled, “I’m not.”

You shifted behind him, moving out from behind him slowly, and the pair turned to look at you. You gave them a sheepish smile, as you inched around Mandy, hands up in a form of surrender.

“I’m just going to head back so you two can talk in private,” you murmured. Jake looked like he wanted to argue, but Mandy’s glare had you moving before he could say anything.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you walked back towards the bonfires, already missing Jake’s touch. You had never felt anything so intense in your entire life, and you wondered what had come over you to make you act so brazenly. You weren’t one for hookups, but you weren’t even sure that’s what that was going to be. He had held you so gently, like you might break or run away at any moment. You had been so ready to give him every part of you in that moment. You knew you should have been worried at that thought, but a large part of you thought that it felt right, that you should give yourself to him. The more you thought about it, the more you found yourself wanting to turn around and go back to him.

You were about halfway back down the beach when it started. It was quiet at first, distant. But then it grew louder, and you found yourself slowing to a stop, turning towards the crashing waves to your left.

The song was beautiful, melancholic. It was unlike the one you had heard before, this one sounding more animal like than human, but you still found yourself drawn to it. It called to you, begging you to listen, and you did, feeling the sound drift through your mind and pulling you in. You weren’t sure when you started walking, but you felt the sand shift beneath your feet as you slowly made your way towards the water. The fires faded from your sight, the churning waves beckoning to you like gentle hands that promised refuge. The song grew louder, all consuming, blocking everything else out but the need to answer. You felt the wind whip your hair around you, the cold sting kissing your cheeks as the crashing waves grew louder, the song more desperate. The sand beneath your feet grew cold as you ventured into a spot where the water met the shoreline. You’re almost there, the song called to you. You felt a relieved smile tug on your lips at the thought of finally reaching your goal and answering the song. You felt the water come just up to your toes before retreating back. You closed your eyes in anticipation. Just one more step.

You let out a cry as you were yanked away from the water, a strong hand on your upper arm. Your arms reached for the water, your mind still foggy as a loud, keening cry sounded from the water before disappearing entirely. You whirled around to see Javy staring at you with an intense worry, Nat just behind him, worry clear on her face.

“Wha-” you mumbled, pressing a hand to the side of your head as it began to pound. “What happened? Javy?”

“Hey, Skipper,” he murmured gently, pulling you closer, away from the water. “We’ve been calling you for a while now. You okay?”

“I…” you trailed off, glancing between him and the water. “I’m not sure.”

“How about we get you some water, yeah?” Nat suggested, wrapping her arms around you as she led you back to the bonfires. You nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” you muttered, glancing back at the ocean. “Yeah, okay.”

Tag List: @jakeseresinlover @haley-hotchner @queerqueenlynn @dempy @fanficfandomlove @aworldwideapart @stoptaking-the-good-names @maximus890 @sky2nd @devil-angel-winchester @hopip99 @hookslove1592 @lemmons1998 @yuckosworld @uniquedreamlandcheesecake @imamomof8 @pietrothemovie @kmc1989 @mamachasesmayhem @hangmansgbaby @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @deliriousfangirl61 @hangmandruigandmav @na-ta-sh-aa @witchybabel @keyrani @i-wanna-be-your-muse @buckysteveloki-me @clancycucumber230 @dreamlandcreations @emotionallysalty @fandom-life-12 @a-girl-who-loves-disney @nouis-bum @topherwrites @squeaky-bumblbee22 @hangmansgbaby @goldenseresinretriever @bobgasm @linkpk88 @number-0-iz @xl-pr @stillreadingfantasy @shibble @horseshoegirl

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #top gun hangman #hangman imagine #hangman top gun #hangman seresin #hangman #mmats #meet me at the sea

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moonlight-prose · 11 days

Text

HURT

➝ 05. MIDNIGHT DOVE

a/n: i never thought it would take a year to finally work up the courage to finish this. i swear it's been marinating in my mind for months. life got in the way as it always does, and well shit happens, but i am gradually attempting to return to this world. if you're new here, welcome. if you're someone who has been here since the beginning, then thank you for sticking my horrible productivity out. i swear i won't disappear again. hopefully.

dedicated to: @themarcusmoreno for being an absolute badass fighter as of late. i hope you know how proud i am of you babes and how much i adore you. a special thanks to @sunflowersteves who has been a MASSIVE supporter of this story. i love you babes! and to @soulores who has listened to me ramble about this fic for hours in the hopes inspo would strike again. te amo te amo te amo!!!

summary: joel never made opening himself up to the prospect of love easy, but when it came to you...it felt like taking a breath of fresh air for the first time in years.

word count: 14k+ (i'm fucking insane)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, fluff, joel attempting to be romantic, ptsd, grief, deep talks (joel opens up), joel finally telling the truth, p in v sex, choking kind of, roughness, biting lots of biting (both kinds hahaha), tad bit of violence, the dangers of falling in love.

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It was easy to forget how damaged you were in the midst of his affection. An effortless act to allow yourself a chance to heal as you gave yourself over to him. For brief moments, you weren’t the person who had gone through years of pain, suffered through grief so potent you could taste it. You were the person who could sink into his hold, lose yourself in his touch, and simply exist.

With Joel there was no pain, no reminders of what you didn’t have—what you could never get back—because he took all that away. He gave you the one thing you didn’t know you were searching for. Yourself. In whispered words beneath the midnight sky, you found the reflection you’d been so afraid to look at. You saw the person who had been torn apart by the brutality of this world, by the prospect of death you could no longer run from.

He pieced you back together with his hands, attempting to rid you of all those cracks and crevices where pain seeped out from.

And in doing so, he saved you.

“You used to be a contractor right?” you asked, trying not to huff and puff as you trailed after him through the woods.

Briefly you thought you caught the sight of tall buildings in the distance, but played it off as the sun messing with your eyes again. A few days ago the truck broke down, ruining the quick pace of travel you had gotten used to. Which left you both with one option. Walking until your feet were numb and bloody. You hadn’t missed the energy this took, suddenly yearning for trains and planes—anyway to get to Boston as quickly as possible.

Except you didn’t hate it entirely. The bonus was being able to spend more time with him in secluded areas. You liked studying him by firelight, talking with him underneath the stars. Joel was the one who kept you going in spite of the agonizing effort this took. Thankfully the moments you did run into any infected were brief and quick—simply another crack in the bubble you’d built around yourselves.

Something had shifted between the two of you. Changed the tides of your futures and gave you insight into what might be possible once you got to Boston. You saw hints of a life that you might not have seen before. A future with him. You only hoped that he was seeing the same picture you were.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pausing to let you catch up, his hand reaching for yours.

“Impressive,” you said with a smile, pressing your chin on his shoulder as he leaned against a tree. Giving the both of you a small breather before you started up again.

“It paid the bills.”

“Well yeah. But it’s also a cool job. Getting to build things.”

He grinned, his eyes tracing the shapes and contours of your face. “I guess it was.”

“What made you want to be a contractor?” You caught the way he paused at your question, his eyes unable to meet yours for a brief moment. Joel thought he was able to hide his pain so well, behind an impenetrable mask he never removed. But you saw it.

You were the only one who split it down the middle; revealing the man beneath for your eyes to see.

“Uh,” he mumbled. “It was good work. Kept me stable.”

“Joel? Did I say something?”

He shook his head. “We should keep going,” he said, pressing a light kiss to your temple, his lips lingering a bit longer than usual.

Any other person would play that off as Joel being Joel. Yet you felt the tremor in his chest when he took in a breath. You saw the way he placed another brick in his never-ending wall. One that he didn’t want you to break. Frowning slightly, you walked beside him, glancing to see if he would finally revert back to the man from moments ago, but he was lost to the ravages of his mind.

You knew it would take awhile for him to come back to you. So, you waited. You lost yourself in your own thoughts, watching the birds fly through the trees, the sun peeking through the branches and bathing you in warmth. Thankfully the cold was starting to fade with each passing day. Giving way to the weather you liked most. You wanted to ask Joel where you were—which state you crossed into—but he was still gone.

Reliving the moment he hadn’t told you about yet.

You stopped when the forest gave way to a road and finally caught sight of what was in the distance. Only to realize…the sun hadn’t been playing tricks on you.

Skyscrapers stood tall against the sky, the cityscape so famous and iconic you could pick it out from memory. It was ruined from the past, some buildings had fallen from the decay, but you felt your heart flutter nonetheless. New York City. You’d been traveling through the state this whole time and never knew. Your younger self ached in the back of your mind; the one place you had been striving to get to, now arriving too late.

Yet still…you were there. Staring at what could have been your future once upon a time.

“We’re in New York,” you said, your voice tinged in disbelief.

Joel seemed to have been brought back by your stunned reaction, his lips pulling up into a small smirk. “Thought you would have liked to take this way.”

You whirled around to face him, your eyes wide with surprise. “But what about infected? Won’t they be—”

“They bombed most of the city when the infection hit. Took out the worst parts first.” He pointed to the direction of where you assumed the Empire State building once stood. “No one has been here for nearly a decade. They tried to have a QZ on the outskirts at one point I think.”

“And how did that go?” Although you already knew the answer. Simply another repeat of every major city in this country.

He sighed. “They wound up bombing that too.”

“So we’re going around?” you asked, knowing that the only safe possibility was skirting the edges of the city. But a part of you hoped that for once you and Joel could pretend to be normal humans again.

People who at one point in their lives…might have taken a trip to New York City.

“Well…” His hesitation caught your attention. “We’re gonna go around as much as we can, but there’s somethin’ there that still survived all this. So if we’re careful. Then it should be alright.”

You felt the breath catch in your chest. A sliver of hope flickering warm and bright through your body. “And if it’s not…alright?”

“Then we handle it,” he replied, his hand shifting to cup your cheek, thumb running along your skin. “Like we always do.” Those words alone nearly made those three words slip free from your mouth. “What do you say Boston,” he murmured, his head dipping down—lips brushing along yours. “Wanna take a trip to New York with me?”

There were infected everywhere you went, never being able to escape them entirely. That alone weighed your answer towards it being positive. Still you were wary about what could happen. What could go wrong in the midst of your happiness? It seemed that life never changed when things were already awful. The worst only hit when you were finally at peace, content with what you had.

You should have said no, should have told him it wasn’t safe, but his brown eyes held a hopeful glint in them. A look that you recognized. For the first time, the both of you were finally starting to heal from the horrid effects of this life. It was a tragedy that would never be written down. A play not yet finished.

Which ultimately made the decision for you.

How did you want things to end? With a smile on your face, spending time with the man you loved? Or alone.

“Lead the way Texas,” you said softly, dropping your forehead to his chest, feeling him kiss your head softly before he pulled away.

The trip to get into the city would take a day or two, which meant that you had to set up camp for the night. At least until the sun rose enough to guide you. Venturing back into the forest with him, you felt the lightness in your heart spread down throughout your body. A sensation that you longed to hold onto.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d been this happy; the feeling almost effortless amidst the pain and destruction of your past. It nearly overflowed, spilling out into the area around you filled with never ending darkness. Joel’s footsteps were heavy against the fallen leaves. As if he was no longer afraid to make noise. Now that the path was clear, his head focused on one direction, you by his side.

Things had shifted drastically since that night. Since you watched a piece of his walls crash to the ground. Giving you a chance to finally see the man he had once been. The Joel you had only met in fragments—memories you weren’t a part of.

A past that you’d never fully know.

“This is as good a place as any,” he said, dropping the bag off his shoulders and onto the ground beside a tree.

“Should I gather wood?” you asked, following his movements—the routine burned into your mind.

He shook his head. “Not tonight. We’re too close to the city.”

“You don’t think people are insane enough to live there, do you?”

The silence he offered was enough of an answer. Even though you were both far enough away from any signs of life, it still wasn’t safe to assume you were entirely free. You could see Joel grappling with the decision to even go down there, but you knew which side would win the war in the end. One side told him to avoid the place altogether, to keep trekking on until you reached the QZ in Boston. But the other whispered something different.

It beckoned him closer, promising something sweet, a reprieve from the terrors of life that continued to plague both of you. Whatever still remained in that city was enough for him to choose the latter.

“I’ll keep first watch,” he murmured, settling with his back to a tree, rifle placed across his thighs.

“Joel.”

He shook his head. “You need to sleep.”

“So do you,” you replied, in the hopes that he’d relent to you as he had before.

The dark lines beneath his eyes grew with every passing day and you wondered what kept him from sleep. Was it nightmares? The prospect of death around every corner? They were things that were enough to send terror running sharply down your spine, but as long as you’d known Joel he seemed to simply take those things in stride. Refusing to give life the satisfaction of watching him crumble beneath the strain.

Yet now he looked half dead; tired of fighting an infinite battle of fear.

“Come here,” you said softly, hand gripping onto his.

“Darlin’—”

“If you don’t sleep then, so help me Joel I will stay up with you.”

The threat held enough truth in it to spur him into action. You would stay up with him until dawn crested over the city, until you could no longer keep your eyes open. Joel had stamina you didn’t possess. Not anymore. So, he allowed you to guide him forward, his head resting on his pack, rifle placed between your bodies. A safety measure in case the night turned for the worst.

“Shut your eyes,” you murmured, seeing the tension in his body melt away the second your hand pressed to his chest.

He huffed—ever the stubborn man who saved your life—but relented without a fight, his eyes fluttering shut quickly followed by a long exhale. The stars were brighter than you’d seen them; the light pollution of the city, no longer a problem the sky had to combat. So, you shifted, rested your head on his shoulder and watched the stars twinkle in a night sky free from the shackles of humanity.

“You’re supposed to sleep too,” he grumbled, his hand coming up to cover yours, thumb running along your wrist.

“I am.” You smiled at his audible snort.

Silence enveloped the two of you, but it never felt off putting in his presence. In fact you began to welcome it, because with Joel there was always more than just words. His thumb continued to go across your skin, creating a soothing rhythm that lulled you into a docile state. If you shut your eyes and focused on the beat of his heart—the rise and fall of his chest with each breath—you might be able to fall asleep. Except your mind still ran, still on high alert in case of something going wrong.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his head turning slightly until his nose brushed against yours.

“Hm?” You felt your heart skip at the sight of his eyes opening again, the deep brown hue pulling you in.

“What’s goin’ on in there?” he whispered. Joel didn’t need to go into specifics to know what he meant by that. You seemed to pick it up just by the inflection of his words—the tone he used when he spoke. This was no different.

You sighed, wishing more than anything that you could strip your shoulders of the weight they carried. “Nothing. I’m just…it’s nothing.”

“It ain’t nothin’.”

“I’m just…scared,” you said, finally showing a sliver of the truth. He hummed, attempting to show that he understood where you were coming from. “What happens when we get to Boston?”

Because that’s where that gnawing feeling stemmed from. It wasn’t your fear of death, or the terror you felt whenever you thought of Joel dying. No, you were scared of what the future held—what came when this trip finally came to an end. You didn’t want to let him go after everything you’d endured together. For the first time you felt like you found the one thing anyone could hope for in life. A partnership.

He sighed. “We keep going.”

“Together?” There you were laying your hope in front of him, wanting him to give you the answer you longed for.

“Yes,” he replied, watching a smile cross your face—his heart beating a bit faster at the sight. It lit him up on the inside. As if someone injected him with a heaping dose of pure sunlight, claiming it would fix all his broken pieces. Save him from hell.

For a moment you simply watched him, seeing an array of emotions flicker through his eyes. You wanted the night to remain endless. For you and Joel to stay there until the stars burned out above—a safe place with no responsibilities. No fear of death. But you knew eventually you would have to get up and follow him into the city. Boston remained right at the very tips of your fingers, yet getting there felt like a million miles away.

“Joel?” you breathed, bringing him out of his mind and back to the present day.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me something.” You clutched his hand in yours, enjoying the warmth that emanated from his skin. “Anything.”

He turned away, looking up at the sky as he processed your words. And you waited patiently. You found that you’d wait for him no matter how long it took, because it was him and to you…he was everything. He was worth fighting for, worth staying put for. He let out a shaky breath, his grip tightening on your palm until pain sparked in your wrist. You didn’t dare pull away though, too captured by the vulnerability that began to show on his face.

For the first time, he was the glass you couldn’t break.

“I had a daughter,” he said softly, still watching how the stars flickered above rather than the way your face went slack with shock. “Sarah.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes falling to the broken watch on his wrist as tears began to fall from your eyes. That night when you asked about it—watched him close up right before your very eyes—suddenly made sense. Why he never took it off, why it was the most precious thing to him.

It was from her.

“She was…well she is the best damn thing in my life.” He shut his eyes, his eyes stinging with the tears that couldn’t fall. You didn’t dare interrupt him. Joel was baring the part he’d hidden long ago—offering it to you in the hopes that you’d take care of it. “Had the prettiest smile and the best—” He took in a breath. “The best fuckin’ laugh you’d ever heard. Made everyone else laugh.”

You smiled, feeling your tears fall onto his shirt. “She sounds amazing.”

“She is,” he rasped, his hand pulling yours up higher on his chest until you could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingers. “On the night of the outbreak. We were tryin’ to get out. But something…” His voice broke, eyes squeezing even tighter. “I couldn’t—and she—”

“Oh Joel,” you whispered, your eyes falling shut as his pain seeped into your heart. It made your whole body scream out and for a moment you wondered how his heart never stopped beating. How had he survived such anguish? How was he still here?

You bit back the sob that threatened to spill free and buried your face into his shoulder, clutching onto his hand to show that you were here. That he could give you this pain to hold and you’d bear it for him for however long he needed. His face turned, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he let the words hang in the air. What more needed to be said? When he had just ripped down the last of his walls.

“I’m so sorry.” The words were a breath on his cheek and you knew they wouldn’t take away any amount of grief. You knew they were simply a band-aid to the gaping wound that would never heal.

He didn’t reply; you didn’t expect him to. So you allowed the silence to fill the air between you, covering you like a comforting blanket. Hiding you from the world until the sun came up. Joel pulled you closer until you practically lay atop his chest, the steady thud of his broken heart echoing beneath your ear. The world had taken so much from him—turned him hopeless—you just never knew the extent of it.

Staring into the darkness of the trees you heard him begin to snore softly, his body now lax beneath you. Except you didn’t move. You remained in the same spot, watching as the world turned a bit darker. The hope seeped out of your body bit by bit now that you understood how much Joel carried—how much he endured.

“I love you,” you breathed, pressing a kiss over his heart, finally shutting your eyes and giving into the soft embrace of sleep.

You woke up to find him gone, his jacket placed strategically over your body to keep you protected from the early morning cold. What you wouldn’t give for a fire to combat the chill that began to seep into your skin. Sitting up slowly, you attempted to catch sight of him through the trees—hoping that he had wandered a bit. But you were left alone with just your pack and his extra gun.

Scenarios began to run through your mind, panic settling in your veins, but you fought against it. You’d been here before. Alone while Joel went off to do who knows what. You knew he would come back—that was a given—but you couldn’t stop the worry from eating at you.

You watched your breath collect in the air as you moved, gathering pieces of wood and rocks to build a fire for a short amount of time. If you were moving today it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to warm up and gain some strength through food. If Joel wasn’t back within the hour you would go out hunting. He’d been generous enough to leave you with a few bullets still in the chamber of his gun.

Which meant he had full intentions of coming back.

The fire sparked quicker than you expected, catching on the brush you packed around the wood and sending heat up towards your face. You couldn’t burn it for long, in case people caught sight of the smoke. Which meant you had to relish in the heat for as long as possible—the stiffness in your body dissipating the longer you sat there.

You watched the orange glow flicker across the wood, consuming it entirely and found you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The sight was familiar—as if you could feel it against your skin with every passing day. Life burned through you with swift brutality and for that mere moment you wondered if it would hurt if you fully sunk into it. Allowed it to destroy you as the flame did the wood that now sat cracked into two pieces—the charred bark falling onto the ground.

A rustling echoed behind you, making you reach for the gun, but the sight of Joel’s graying hair peeking through the woods sent relief flooding through your body. He carried a rabbit in one hand, clutching onto the rifle with the other, and you felt yourself relax just a bit more. Body sinking back into the spot you’d made, legs crossed and hands hovering over the flames.

“Breakfast?” he asked, crouching beside you.

“Don’t mind if I do.” You grinned, pressing your chin against his shoulder briefly, soaking up the warmth of his body.

You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel the smile being pressed against your temple. His lips a soft brush across your skin. If time was kind, you’d be able to stay there. Sitting in the comfort of his presence—the worry that plagued you now pushed to the very back of your mind. It was rare to feel this okay in the comfort of someone else, but Joel made it easy. You wanted to thank him for simply being here, but the words were stuck in your head. Unable to be released.

“How long until we go?” you asked, watching as he cooked the animal over the flames, your stomach clenching painfully.

“Soon as we’re done here.”

The trip into the city wasn’t by any means safe. In fact you were certain it was the most dangerous thing you would attempt in your journey to the Boston QZ. For so long you’d played it safe, but Joel had plans and you would follow his lead wherever he went.

Perhaps it was ridiculous to say you loved him now. In a world where the small hints of anything good were smothered before they could bloom into something more. Except you couldn’t deny what your heart knew was true—what it had been holding onto for months. You loved him. Possibly more than you could ever love someone, and that’s what scared you. Sent a sick feeling into your stomach, your heart twisting violently in your chest at the thought.

Traveling through the city was lethal—a death sentence—but you soon realized it wasn’t the most dangerous thing you could do.

Falling in love in a world intent on destruction was the true risk. Because whether you liked it or not, your entire life could come crashing down in an instant if you lost the man beside you.

Joel was your oxygen. The sole reason you were still alive. You couldn’t lose him.

You both ate in silence, an act that had become sacred to you as time went on. Just a small piece of normalcy that remained—something to remember your old lives by. While you couldn’t necessarily sit at a table and savor the meal. Both of you were content with this. A small amount of peace before chaos ensued once more.

The city called to you—beckoned you closer—and you had to be careful not to give in. There was an unspoken rule in all the traveling you’d had with one another. Joel was the leader in this situation and you were to follow what he said; after all he was simply trying to keep the both of you alive. So you did just that. You waited for him to finish eating and explain exactly how this was going to go down.

“You know…” You picked at the grass beneath you. “I’ve been thinking about what comes next.”

His eyes raised to meet your gaze—the once hardened stare now softened to something you now knew to be familiar. A look he only carried when he was around you. You felt something tug at your chest, warm and inviting.

“I want a home,” you said softly, twirling a dandelion between your fingers. “If that’s a possibility.”

The corners of his lips pulled upwards and you nearly missed the sight. But once you caught it…you couldn’t look away. Joel smiling was a rarity—this you knew to be a hard fact—but when he did the world lit up around him. His smile felt safe. As if he kept every ounce of love given to him in that single look.

“Could be a possibility,” he replied, shifting to where his arm was behind you—his weight leaning on it. “Got a place in mind?”

Heat bloomed beneath your cheeks, small petals of the dandelion flying off. “Nothing too fancy. Big enough for us and…well…it has to be just right.”

Perhaps your mind was playing a trick on you, creating fantastical sights that felt too good to be true, but Joel's smile deepened. A soft light entered his eyes for a brief moment, effectively stealing the breath right from your lungs. He was so beautiful when he smiled. As if he was gifted with it from the gods themselves—his own secret power at the end of the day.

"A house huh."

You nodded, still stunned in place as his smile remained intact. "I miss having a home."

Five words. That's all it took for light to be extinguished like a flame being put out. Sorrow seeped back into his face, his smile faltered, and you felt the world shift beneath your feet. Whatever you said triggered something in his mind. It dragged the memory to the front and forced him to watch with no escape. You know...because you'd been in his place before; you had been a victim to the horror of your own life, privy to the movie that never had an end.

The difference was with Joel you could do nothing but watch.

There was no pulling him out of it, no distracting him, because the memory had already started. So you sat in silence, waiting for it to run its course. Until Joel returned back to you. His smile was gone, face grim once more, and grief stained his soul. But you'd take him any way he was. You'd take him damaged and ruined beyond repair, as he would with you.

"We should get moving soon," he said, voice lower than before, eyes glassy with tears that would never fall.

You let out a breath as your heart sank deeper in your chest. "I'll put out the fire."

He didn't question you or even try to stop you. He simply let you do what you thought was best. Gathering his jacket and gun, he helped you to your feet, the furrow between his brows now set back in place. For a moment...he looked younger than his actual age. A man from the past peeked out, but nothing stayed the same for long.

Nothing good ever stuck.

"Once we get to the edge of the city we'll be out in the open for anyone to see." He slung his pack over his shoulder, handing you a knife to stick in your pocket as an extra precaution for what was to come. "You know I only have one rule darlin'."

Now felt like the perfect time to make a joke—to bring back his smile—but the serious tone of his voice lingered in the air. A reminder that you may be able to take care of yourself on your own, but traveling with Joel now meant you had his life to worry about too.

That alone was something you couldn't risk.

"Follow your lead."

He nodded. "We should be alright, but just in case stick close."

"I will." The idea that you'd stray far from him was ridiculous and he knew it, but the words had to be said. For his own peace of mind.

Somewhere in the middle of the trees there remained an old hiking path. A memoriam of the years that came before, and yet you couldn't picture tourists taking this road. Not even their footprints would survive twenty years of nature. No, this small but distinct path was carved by people traveling towards Boston. You liked to imagine that they made it eventually; that their lives went on in the QZ without issue. But reality always held a harsher reflection than you expected.

Twigs snapped beneath your boots as you trailed beside Joel, eyes set on what remained of the city skyline. Proof that humanity once lived on this planet.

"They'll be deeper inside the city lines," Joel said, dragging your attention away from the ruin. "It's likely there ain't been people for years. But we can’t be sure."

"No reason for activity then?"

He sighed, squinting his eyes against the blaring sunlight. "I'm not sayin' there'll be less. But we might not encounter them much if we’re lucky."

A small amount of relief spread through your chest, pushing against the constant fear that ate at your heart. Devouring it as if you were the meal it had been waiting for. A delicacy of the human body.

"Better than nothing."

He made a noise of agreement, taking the lead and heading deeper into the woods. Eventually they would become sparse, giving the both of you less coverage, until they disappeared altogether. Two decades was plenty of time for nature to reclaim parts of the city, but the cement and stone still remained. A permanent fixture of what used to be in front of you.

The city that used to never sleep, now forced to rest forever.

In the distance you swore you could hear the now familiar screech that haunted your dreams. But it was too far out for you to make out. So you followed Joel, the sun beating down on both of you even through the trees. Sweat stuck to the back of your neck, your fingers slippery on the trigger of your gun. And you both walked in silence—focused on your surroundings. Too anxious to even allow yourselves to whisper.

Yet with Joel it never felt like you were losing time.

How could you? When he was giving back what you lost.

No one else would do this. No one would bother to make sure that you got a chance to visit the city you dreamed about, the place where your future was supposed to be. But he would.

Joel would have given you the sun if you asked him to—if only to see you smile.

Your words from last night continued to rise to the surface, placing themselves on the tip of your tongue, and begging you to open your mouth. Yet as much as you wanted to stand atop the tallest building in the city and shout it from the top of your lungs, you knew you couldn't.

Those words remained hidden in your chest like a wound that could never truly heal. A gaping hole that forced you to bleed out each time you acknowledged its presence.

The sad part was that Joel wasn't the one to rip it open. He was simply someone who managed to stir it awake. He brought it to life with just one look. You started bleeding years ago with loss after loss, until eventually...you stopped trying to close it up with cheap booze and an even cheaper version of what you ached for.

What you needed to sustain you.

"You never told me," Joel said abruptly, shutting down those thoughts within seconds. "About your life."

You smiled despite the effort and lack of breath. "There's not much to tell."

"I doubt that darlin'." He fell into step with you, his hand brushing across yours gently, but even you knew holding hands wasn't a luxury you could afford right now. Not when you'd have to run at a moment's notice. "What was college like?"

Scoffing, you adjusted the strap of your pack. "Parties, hangovers, and lots of coffee."

"Sounds 'bout right."

"Why Joel Miller. Don't tell me you went to college."

He leaned into you, his shoulder hitting yours with enough force to throw you slightly off course. "I didn't. My brother Tommy did. Well...he enrolled."

"Ah yes. The infamous Miller," you joked, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself.

He snorted, wrapping it around your waist instead. "I wouldn't call him that."

"Then tell me about him."

His eyes met yours, grief still pressing against the light that once was there, but you could see something else linger below. A sense of joy that only came when talking about his younger sibling. A relief that he had family still alive, still around for him to worry about. You knew the fear remained that one day...he might not have that person to worry about, that the world would remain just as cruel as before.

That thought hit you harder than you would have liked—the face of your own brother flashing in your mind. You couldn't save him. Shit, you barely even knew if he was still alive or dead. And that in itself was a different type of grief; a horror you wouldn't wish on anyone.

Least of all Joel.

"He was in the army."

A fallen tree came into view, blocking the path. Joel climbed over it first, grunting as he jumped down, his feet slamming hard when he landed. He took your hand as you went next, helping you go softer than him, checking with a glance to make sure you hadn't snagged yourself on the split wood.

You recall your own brother enlisting, although your mother used to claim you were too young to remember the day he left. But you could make out the hazy images of tear filled goodbyes and hugs that lasted longer than normal. He joined to find purpose. You understood that now.

"Nearly gave our parents a heart attack when he came home with the news." Joel huffed, his hand still clasped tightly around yours. "But Tommy was eighteen. And damn stubborn."

You tried to picture the other Miller as you did when Joel first mentioned him, yet still came up blank. They must look alike. Maybe the same nose, or jaw. No matter how hard you tried though, you could see nothing but a faceless man—a blank slate to the one Joel spoke of so fondly.

"He's younger than you?"

Joel nodded. "By a few years."

The thought of Joel trying to be a good role model for his brother made you smile. You wondered if they ever got into trouble together, if there were stories he might tell you one day when you finally found a safe place to live.

"So...he was the troublemaker of the family."

His gaze slid over to you, eyebrow arching slightly in faux surprise. "I wouldn't say that."

You grinned. “Let me guess…” Joel’s hand tightened around yours. “You were the responsible brother.”

“I had to be.”

“He sounds fun. Maybe I should have met him first.” Glancing to your side, you didn’t see as his face darkened. A look of something wild crossed his face, the painful grip on your hand bringing you back as he yanked you forward. “Joel—”

Unexpected. That is what you continued to feel each time Joel kissed you. Unexpected in his action, unexpected in the feelings he buried beneath the rubble of his heart. You felt yourself stumble into his chest, his lips sliding against your roughly, as he gave into that wild unknown sensation.

A hunger that consumed him quickly. Larger than anything he’d known before.

He exhaled, pulling away with reluctance, and you nearly moved forward to take back that fleeting euphoria. His thumb and forefinger pinching your chin lightly kept you in place. Until you opened your eyes—catching his gaze. Want burned in his iris—turning the deep brown a shade of black—but something darker peeked out, a possessive glint. A promise that you were his.

“Trust me darlin’,” he murmured, lips pulling up into a small grin. Your stomach fluttered rapidly at the sight of his eyes sliding down to your lips—his tongue running along his bottom lip. You wanted it in your mouth. “You’ve got the better brother.”

That remained clear the second you met him. But the tease still lingered in the air. A hint of irritation plucked at Joel’s heart as he thought about you and Tommy instead. If there’s one thing he knew it was this: Tommy would make you laugh as often as possible. He wouldn’t quit until he saw joy overtake the grief on your face. But something told him you needed more than humor.

Even as you looked at him like that—eyes soft and hazy with need—he still felt the innate need to prove himself. To show that he was it for you; that no matter what happened next, Joel was going to be yours.

His face darkened and you longed to peel away the layers of murkiness that hid his true feelings.

But that was the thing about Joel. He’d never show you outright what he kept beneath the surface—not unless he was telling you himself.

His hand took yours again, a small kiss pressed to your temple as he started walking. Towards a future so tangible you could almost feel it between your fingertips. How it ebbed and flowed despite the endless mountain ridges you were yet to traverse.

There was no telling where it dropped off. Where this future finally settled, but regardless of what happened, you’d remain. You would choose Joel over and over again, even if this path led to your death. As long as he was safe—as long as he survived. To you Joel was the only thing you could save—having given up on yourself years ago.

You were two broken souls, but given the chance, you’d piece him back together.

You could see that the path veered back towards the forest, probably to some old forgotten campgrounds. A part of you nearly asked him to head that way, but you stopped before you started. The realization dawned on you quicker than you would have liked. How many people never made it home? How many lost parts of humanity still remained in a place meant solely for joy?

A cold unsettling feeling burrowed its way into your stomach, nausea rising quickly to the surface. Everywhere you looked, death stared back with an empty gaze.

A promise already embedded too deep to remove.

This is how it was always meant to go. This is where it would always lead to.

Joel couldn’t see the terror stricken expression across your face. You were in too deep to ask him for a rescue anyways. So you simply remained. Entrenched in the thick darkness. Yet your feet still moved, your body still complied. He led you closer and closer to the outskirts of the city. And where you expected fear to arise, you found nothing but numbness.

An echo of pain that called out to you. How could you fear what you already knew? The infected were no longer the embodiment of your worst horror come to life.

No, that title now belonged to the man holding your hand so gently in his. Squeezing every few minutes in an act of unconscious reassurance. His fate, his life, it all twisted together until you could barely catch your breath.

He turned to glance at you over his shoulder, his lips curving into a soft smile, the lines around his eyes deeper than before. You nearly gasped as you were yanked out of the darkness, warm air brushing across your face. For those few seconds you felt the sunlight against your face. The worries melted away and this is what you were left with.

Pure broken love.

“Tired?” he asked, oblivious to the way you were drowning.

You grinned, moving closer. “Not really.”

“We got a few more hours.”

Perfect.

You didn’t say it aloud, but you could see the sentiment was reflected back in his eyes. He wanted this as much as you. Where the world only existed in time spent alone. Where nothing could harm you here in your infinite haven with him.

Returning his smile, you squeezed his hand softly, doing what you could to burn the feel of his calloused skin into your mind. Whether it took a few hours or a few days, you didn’t mind. As long as it was with him.

Silence.

That’s all you heard throughout a city once plagued by noise. Where thousands of people used to live—creating the hustle and bustle of the city that used to never rest, now an echoey hollowness remained. At last…the city was asleep. And you hated it.

Life should spill out of every crack and crevice of this place, but there was nothing. You felt as if you should grieve for what once was, but no emotions rose to the surface. Instead you were faced with a bottomless pit of something that once existed.

Joel’s hand was replaced with your weapons, his gun clutched tightly in his own grip. You remained on the outskirts, but that didn’t mean you were safe. If anything you were in more danger this out in the open. There should have been something by now. Yet it seemed that fate had a different idea altogether.

In a way, you were beyond thankful, but uncertainty still remained. A reminder that this would only last for so long. Fate offered what it could, and you took without a second thought. There would never be another chance like this—never another moment of peace.

Sweat stuck to the back of your neck as you walked, eyes scanning the area like clockwork. Joel was a few paces ahead, his body tense, finger on the trigger in case of the worst. You hoped it would never come. Neither of you spoke for fear that whatever remained in the abandoned buildings could hear you. The air was sticky with heat and you felt your body begin to dry out the longer the both of you traveled.

“We can rest up ahead,” he called over his shoulder as if your thoughts were projected to him.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

It’s not that you didn’t trust him—you did—but wandering in the city felt like a risk you shouldn’t be taking more than a trip of enjoyment.

“I’ve got an idea.”

You scoffed. “That’s helpful.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t trust me now Boston,” he drawled with a halfway grin across his face.

“It’s kind of late for that…Texas.”

“No shit.”

You did your best to hold back the laugh that bubbled to the surface, but there was no use. You couldn’t stop it now. Joel looked surprised for a split second, his lips parting into a wide smile, until he began to laugh with you. Deep and rough and perfectly Joel.

This. This is what you ached for most. Joy—no matter how small—in a time where the concept no longer existed. If you could bring that to each other even as you fought to survive then you’d be okay.

In the near distance you could see it, a small section of benches surrounded by nothing but overgrown bushes, flower patches, and trees that would have never been allowed to grow that tall. A sense of elation filled your chest at the sight of a park. So out in the open, so mundane in a city quickly being overtaken by nature. Ivy trailed up the buildings as if that alone kept the ruins together, but you’d never seen something so beautiful.

“I got some food left over,” he muttered, rummaging in his pack as you took a seat on a bench covered by vines. “Nothin’ much, but it’ll work till we dig up somethin’ else.”

You took it gratefully, taking in the area with wonder as you caught every small piece that might show a hint of the past. Shop signs were broken off, rubble scattered through the streets, and abandoned cars were lined up like barriers to the inside of buildings. Perhaps people had come through here before, trapping the infected inside as they made their way through the city quickly.

“Do you remember what it was like?”

He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, catching sight of the coffee shop sign you were fixated on—half of it gone and broken on the asphalt. Everything here had been destroyed over the years. Taken, ripped a part, and left to rot. Yet the cracks in the streets where plants grew told Joel that life still found a way to flourish. Even as darkness and cruelty became the figurehead of humanity.

“Loud,” he said, biting into the dusty granola bar.

You smiled, shifting to make room for him as he joined you on the bench. “So I’ve heard. The city that never sleeps. I guess it was named that for a reason.”

“People were crammed into every corner.” He pointed up to a building in the distance. Surprisingly it hadn’t collapsed yet. “I stayed there. Fourth floor.”

“Hotel?”

He nodded. “Expensive as shit.”

“That tracks.”

“But I had fun.” He grinned, eyes distant as if replaying moments of his past, reliving what it was like to be in this city at the height of its prime. “Tommy wanted to move here. After the army.”

“Did you…want to go with him?”

Joel huffed, eyes falling to his hands as he broke apart the granola bar—anxiety bleeding off his body and seeping into yours. “No. That life was his. Not mine.”

Counting in your head, you tried to calculate at what age Joel might have been when Tommy came home. What might have happened in his life. Until the conversation from earlier came back to you like a fist to your face. Sarah. You tried to picture him as a young dad, raising a little girl, and suddenly the gap between your years and his felt like a chasm you shouldn’t cross.

A split in the ground so deep you could see right down to the center of the Earth.

“And to think,” you replied, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I could have met you here.”

His laugh was shadowed by pain—grief he’d never let you see in its entirety. “You wouldn’t have gone for me.”

“That’s not true.”

“What with you bein’ a fancy museum worker?” He turned, his nose brushing against yours. “Gettin’ you to look twice at me would have taken some effort.”

You smiled, stealing a kiss. “You’re wrong. I’d have asked you out in an instant if I saw you. Maybe…in a bar.” His laugh was soft, raspy as if he’d been shouting for hours. “Or a park.”

“Yeah?” You wanted to keep his smile. “How would it go?”

“Well…” Pulling back, you pressed a finger to your chin, eyebrows pulling together as you pretended to lose yourself in thought. “I’d begin the conversation, because you’re not much of a talker.” He pinched your side, drawing out a laugh.

“And you’d say?”

Forcing your face into a stoic expression, you grasped his shoulders. “Excuse me sir. Are you a fan of country music?”

He snorted, his body shaking as he broke between your palms. Laughing so hard he nearly dropped his granola bar on the floor. If you closed your eyes, you could imagine the sounds of the city in the background. The echo of what could have been reverberating to you through the years.

This would be it. The moment you knew you were head over heels for the man sitting beside you.

This is where you’d start to plan a future.

“And you’d say…of course, I’m from Texas darlin’.” You did your best to morph your voice into his, but couldn’t get through it without smiling.

Joel cupped your chin, tugging your lips close enough to feel them brush across his—your heart now beating an unsteady rhythm in your chest. “Of course.”

“And I’d say…that’s funny. I’m from Boston.” Sadness seeped into your heart when he looked at you like that—as if you were the only person to exist on this planet. His hope. His lifeline. “And the rest is history.”

He pressed his lips against yours, stealing a kiss soft enough to crack off another splinter of your heart. “I like that version of history.”

“Me too,” you breathed, biting down hard on your bottom lip to keep the sting of tears at bay.

You could feel the pain in your feet begin to shoot through your lower back. Traveling steadily with each step. From what you could tell, the sun was dipping into mid afternoon, still early in the day, but late enough to cause worry. Staying in the city past nightfall didn’t bode well for either of you. Yet somehow…you were traveling deeper into the maze of fallen buildings and broken roads.

“Joel—”

He stopped in the middle of the road, his back straight and shoulders tense. You braced yourself for the worst, hands grabbing tightly onto the weapon clutched to your chest. A small chirp of birds sounded in the distance, animals echoing their sentiments back to the broken world around them. Yet nothing sounded dangerous enough to cause worry.

“What is it?”

Glancing back at you, he threw you a cautionary smile, head tilting as if to say join me.

So you followed his instruction. Stepping around the cracks in the street to stand close, facing him as he looked at something behind you.

“We’re here.”

Confusion lined your face, worry filtering through your chest. “Where’s…here?”

“Turn around.”

His hands grasped your shoulders, shifting you until you were staring at the building he was. And for a moment you nearly laughed; claimed it was a good joke walking you nowhere. Only for your eyes to catch sight of the cracked and broken steps before you. Weeds grew between what still remained and the front was blown to shit, but you’d recognize this building even with your eyes closed.

The final destination in the path of your old future.

“The Met?” you whispered, eyes wide in awe at the sight of such a grand building torn to bits.

He pressed his lips to your ear. “Thought you might want to see it in person this time.”

Those three words you uttered last night, barely spoken at all, suddenly felt too small to describe the depth of what you felt. You didn’t just love Joel. You would die for him. You’d take any pain he harbored and carry it as your own. And you’d do all this…because he’d do the exact same for you. Love felt too little in the grand scheme of things.

How could you simply love someone who would bring you the future and lay it at your feet?

“Is it safe?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, tinged by awe.

“Probably not.”

“So we could die?”

“There’s a good chance.”

You smiled, tangling his hand in yours. “I think it’s worth it.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed your palm softly. “I do too.”

Carefully he led you up the steps. A walk that felt surreal after years of dreaming this exact moment. You knew one day you’d get here. Whether that was with a degree and a resume in your hand, or holding the hand of a man who saved you. You didn’t care, because finally…there you stood.

Ivy crawled up the sides of the building, the doors were no longer attached, and you felt as if you were walking into a different universe. The entrance that you’d seen in brochures and pictures somehow looked prettier this way; slowly being captured by the hands of nature. As she shifted the land of humans to her point of view.

The almost crystalline marble shone differently in the direct sunlight. Glancing up you caught sight of the hole in the ceiling. This building must have been affected by the bombing.

“I remember this part,” he said suddenly, an awestruck expression painted across his face. He looked like a young man again, taking his first visit to this grand old museum.

“This is called The Great Hall. And it was Richard Morris Hunt that was the architect on the project. One hundred years ago. Well give or take a few years.”

A stream of words left your mouth without a single thought. Explanations of the different parts that once existed, the historical references for how they were built. And for a moment you felt nineteen again. Fresh out of an art history class; the knowledge once again at the forefront of your mind.

All the while Joel watched with a glint in his eyes, silent to what you had to say, yet focused entirely on you. The museum wasn’t important to him. Hell he barely gave a shit about what used to be here. But something changed in your demeanor as you spoke about art and the history attached to it. You bloomed before his very eyes.

You came alive.

“I wonder if a few of the paintings are still around,” you murmured, eyes averting to one side of the room. “Could we…”

He nodded, readying his gun. “We can try.”

You expected this place to be crawling with infected. At least a few here and there, yet nothing but silence greeted you with each new room you entered. It became unnerving after a while. As if fate was waiting to drop the other shoe, tearing apart something already special.

Hesitation lingered in each step you took, fear crawling along your nerves like a spider, until you entered a room filled with paintings torn apart. Once upon a time it was a gallery, yet now the delicate pieces of history were nothing but a reminder of what happened.

Tucked away on a side wall, you found a painting still hanging. A small crack went through the top corner of the glass covering it, but as a whole the piece remained pristine enough to make out.

“You know that one?” he asked, following your quick pace through the room.

“Allegory of the Planets and Continents.”

“Allegory huh?”

You nodded. “Painted by Tiepolo in…1752.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard of him.”

“He did a lot of allegorical pieces.” You tilted your head, eyes tracing the intricate details that were nearly lost to time. Joel did the same. “I remember seeing this in a class presentation.”

He hummed, his gaze finding its way back to you. “And what does it mean?”

“A number of things really.” You pointed to the center. “That’s Apollo. And those are the gods as a representation of the planets. Mars, Jupiter, Venus. You know.”

“And them?”

You sighed. “Humanity.” His hand found its way towards yours, fingers twining together as you stood there. Alone in a museum together. “They’re waiting for Apollo to take to the skies and bring about the sun.”

“Seems like a lot of work for a God.”

The smile that crossed your face made Joel’s chest tighten. “I guess it was. Although it’s strange. Back then people were waiting for the sun and now…well now we wait for death.”

Pain flared in his heart quickly and without warning. But he did his best to force it down, steadying himself in your hold. Oh how he wished he could tell you the truth. About the past he had yet to accept as his own. About the bullet that never met its mark—the hand that remained unsteady even now.

“We should go soon,” you said, pulling him out of his own mind, and he nearly thanked you. “The sun will be going down eventually.”

He nodded. “Go out the way we came.”

It hurt to say goodbye to a building you’d never been in before. But that’s not where the pain stemmed from. You’d said goodbye to the prospect of what if a long time ago. You had to. This was from losing such a precious moment with Joel—a memory you’d hold onto for as long as you could. For that time…you were simply two people wandering the halls of a museum together. Finally on a date after so long traveling.

Maybe if you had met years before in a bar or in a park. You wouldn’t have to say goodbye.

The sunlight felt different back on the steps, brighter, crueler. As if Apollo was mocking you for such a small hope, such a small dream come to life. Yet even now you couldn’t blame him.

You headed back the way you came through the city. But your feet were weary, your body drooped with each step, and eventually you’d collapse on the asphalt just as the buildings once did. Joel could tell with each look he threw your way, checking to make sure you were in fact following him. He wouldn’t have put it past you to remain in that building.

To make a home with history.

“We can’t sleep here,” he said, pausing to let you catch your breath.

“I know. My feet just…”

He nodded solemnly, squinting against the sunlight. “Wait here.”

“Joel?”

There was no time to question his actions, because you were out of breath as it was, and he was moving further away quicker than you expected. Standing there in the middle of the street wasting sunlight turned your insides with every second that passed. Your eyes caught sight of him turning a corner before he vanished entirely from your sight. And you held onto the thin shred of sanity you had left in your body.

You trusted Joel. A fact truer than anything you’d known in your life.

So you waited, watched your surrounding areas, and held your breath.

If you weren’t so unnerved by the silence, you might have found it enjoyable. Some peace before the two of you went in search of a QZ that may no longer be there. That thought never occurred to you—traveling with Joel kept you distracted enough to where you didn’t focus on the important things. The question that now picked at your heart.

What were you supposed to do if the QZ wasn’t there? Where would you go?

Blind faith is all that kept you going, but that never seemed to be enough. In the end you were left with nothing but disappointment. You’d run all out of faith when it came to the fates. The still healing wound on your side was proof enough of that.

The echo of dried leaves cracking beneath feet signaled to you that Joel must have returned. Whatever he was looking for must have been a bust. The smile on your face and tease right on the tip of your tongue died in moments as you turned. A rock falling to your stomach, filling you with dread.

Dried blood caked down the side of their face. A deep red now a rust brown; a stark contrast to the green moss that covered their torn clothes.

Every time you saw one you felt the punch to your gut grow stronger. As if lead embedded itself in your flesh. Again. Your breath came in short, eyes stuck staring at what was once a person. They stumbled forward, body twitching with every stunted shift. And you wanted to scream. Shout for Joel, but your mouth sealed itself shut, your body rooted to the ground beneath you.

The whole time you were aching for life to return to this city, you forgot. Life already existed here. Mangled and rotting and steeped in death.

But life nonetheless.

They turned, eyes glassy and empty, but somewhere in the depth of them they recognized that you were alive. Your heart pounded against your chest, louder than their fucking screech. It pierced right through your skin, a slice to the already existing wound.

You clutched Joel’s gun, finger sliding along the trigger. It was easy enough to pull, to set the bullet flying towards its mark. And you should have pulled it, should have watched as they dropped, but like an idiot…you hesitated.

Why the fuck did you hesitate?

A pause of silence filled the space, echoing louder than any gun could have, before time slowed before your very eyes. How fucking stupid of you. To think you’d be safe. They clocked your shift back, head twitching, before that horrifying click you’d come to hate echoed in your ears. You were dead the second they started to run, limbs flying and body thrashing, as if the control stemmed to one part.

One sole purpose.

Infect.

“Fuck!” you shouted, ignoring the ache in your feet as you sprinted in the direction Joel disappeared to. If you were lucky he was still there.

Yet life had a way of proving to you that luck had nothing to do with why you remained alive.

“Joel!” You gasped for breath, doing what you could to ignore how they sped up behind you, their screech somehow louder as it echoed off the buildings around you. “Joel!”

If you could get the upper hand you could put a bullet in their skull, but your thought process happened too late. Glancing over your shoulder, you were blinded by their body launching at you. Toppling you to the ground as they scratched for your face, any part of you they could sink their teeth into. You don’t remember screaming, or even calling Joel’s name. You simply fought. You tugged on the loose thread of pure fucking rage that called your name—screamed for you to do survive.

“You piece of shit!” you yelled, managing to hold them off with your forearm, your fingers grappling for the knife attached to your side. “You fucking animal!”

“Boston!”

Yanking it out, you nearly cried in relief as you jammed it into their neck, shoving it in deep enough to hear a crunch as it met bone. Satisfaction pulled at your chest. You didn’t stop there. Dragging it out, you sliced through their shoulder, their throat, any part of them you could reach. Until you were no better than the monster that now lay above you. Lifeless.

Hands came out of nowhere, grasping onto their corpse and shoving it off you. You nearly took a swing at the person above you, the red fury blinding you to anything that could have existed nearby. The feral piece of your heart—the survivor—had been set in motion and they called for blood.

Joel’s hands yanked the knife out of your clutch, his voice calling your name, and for a moment you felt lost to the depths of your own fury. You would have killed him if he wasn’t fast enough to dodge that knife.

“Boston!” He pressed you to the ground, his body sitting on your waist, hands keeping your wrists together. “Baby it’s me.”

The breath in your lungs escaped in a sharp gasp, your body stilling within seconds. Only a few times in your life had you succumbed to that raw emotion that scratched and clawed at your chest. Some days you claimed it kept you alive. Others you ignored its existence in the hopes that it would disappear for good. It was the darkness you refused to see—the one thing you wouldn’t accept about yourself.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled, releasing the hold he had on your hands in order to cup your face. “It’s dead. It’s gone. You killed it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Why…did you leave?”

Leaning forward he pressed his forehead to yours, his breath hot across your chin. “I’m sorry darlin’. I keep doin’ that.”

Inhaling his breath, you did what you could to regulate your heart. “And I keep nearly dying.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Nearly. Not if I got a say in the matter.”

Dirt covered your back as he helped you to your feet, and before you could shake it off, he brushed his hands along your body. Patting it off as best he could. The act shouldn’t have brought tears to your eyes, it shouldn’t have even been noteworthy. But the tenderness behind his touch reminded you what you could have lost.

“I want an explanation,” you said, your voice thick with tears. Thankfully he chose to ignore it.

“I found somethin’.” He pointed to a shop that held no sign, no indication that it was anything before this. “You might like it.”

You struggled to put the knife back in its place—still wary and on edge. “This better be good Texas. I didn’t almost die for nothing.”

Joel didn’t respond, but you caught the flash of something crossing his face. Dark enough to cause worry. And you wanted to ask, to prod and poke at what he was keeping to himself, but the way his fingers tightened on his gun told you enough. He didn’t like to think of you that way. Dead on the ground in a city that he brought you to. A trip that was meant to be filled with joy.

“Follow me,” he stated, pushing open that already broken door.

You half expected to see a shop, something frivolous from the past, but the sight of a garage nearly stopped you in your tracks. A dusty brown cover cloaked something in the middle, but the shape was familiar enough to light up your chest. A car. Joel tugged at the cover, kicking up dirt and whatever else lay atop, but you couldn’t care less.

It’s once beautiful dark red color looked aged with however long it had been here. Never one to know cars, you simply knew that it was expensive—a thing that would have cost the entirety of your tuition at one point.

“How…” you breathed.

“Saw the logo on the window,” he replied. “I figured it was a hardware store until I came in.”

“Does it work?”

He shrugged. “Probably not.”

You deflated slightly. “Can we…fix it?”

The sun was going down faster than you would have liked and Joel knew it. He could see how you were both losing time the longer you were there. But the prospect of having an escape kept him on the edge. His grim expression made the choice for you as you moved to pop the hood. Your bag, now discarded on the floor by his feet.

“I don’t know much about cars—”

“Lucky you got me.”

“Don’t tell me. You’re a contractor who knows cars?”

Joel huffed. “Someone had to help my brother fix up his shitty truck.”

The words were good enough for you as he moved you out of the way, ducking down to peer at the engine. His shirt tugged up his back as he leant forward, his skin coated in a sheen of sweat. If it were any other time and the prospect of this car working didn’t depend on life or death, you would have sat back and admired him.

But the edge from earlier still ran through your veins, adrenaline the only thing that kept you upright and stable. Joel worked silently, cursing under his breath every now and then. Only speaking to ask for certain tools. And you watched the sun begin to dip lower. Suddenly you found yourself regretting never taking auto shop in high school. Choosing wood shop over it in a heartbeat.

“Turn her over,” he said, wiping the sweat away from his neck. You felt warmth pool in your stomach at the sight.

Jamming the screwdriver into the ignition, you turned it slowly, hope cresting at the top of your chest. Only for the sputter of an engine to die out in seconds.

“Shit,” he muttered, glancing back at the work he’d put in. “The battery ain’t dead yet and I fixed everythin’ else. Try again for me darlin’.”

You repeated the motion, pressing down on the gas pedal, clutching the wheel in your hand. Whether it was you attempting to force life into the car, or sheer fucking luck, you’d never know. But the echo of the engine roaring to life flooded you with enough relief you fell back into the seat with a smile.

“Joel?”

He looked up, a smile of pride across his lips. “Yeah baby?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of New York.”

Nodding, he tossed your bag into the backseat as you let him slide into the driver's seat. “I like the sound of that.”

The calm of the forest welcomed the both of you with open arms. As if promising the rest you ached for desperately. Miles and miles of trees—of different shades of green and brown—were softly illuminated by the sun steadily dipping in the sky. In an hour or less night would be upon the world and this day, no matter how special, would have to come to an end.

You tried not to think about it; the idea of having to say goodbye to something you’d cherish. What would keep you going if Joel and you were to ever part. What you wouldn’t do to keep the sun in the sky for a while longer. Give up a few years of your own life, of the future you planned with hope filled eyes and empty hearts.

If staying here—in this moment—was an option, you wouldn’t hesitate to jump at the chance.

Joel slammed the trunk of the car shut, a small box of cans he found buried in the back of the garage, clutched in his hands. Despite the prospect of all this eventually ending, you caught the hint of a smile on his lips. Barely there, yet bright enough to light up your heart like a match being struck.

You found yourself smiling back—heart hammering loudly in your chest.

“We’ve got…” He raised a can covered in dents and coated in a thick layer of dust. “‘M gonna assume it’s soup.”

“Lovely,” you laughed, your face twisting up in disgust as he tossed it to you.

The dust was sticky beneath your fingers, as if something had spilled across it years ago. You figured it was best not to question more than necessary. Settling on the ground, you plunged your knife into the cover, taking a hesitant whiff of something probably expired past saving. Much to your surprise though, a pungent scent of tomatoes greeted you.

“Raviolis,” you exclaimed, delight scrawled across your face.

You wished you could have seen Joel’s eyes go soft, seen the way he practically melted at the expression of joy you wore. Joel Miller remained hard as stone to the rest of the world, but in moments like this, when peace was prominent and life gave way to something other than pain. He allowed himself to feel. For a bit…he was the man he might have been a decade ago.

“Good enough for me.”

Prying the lid off, you watched as he set up stones for a small enough pit. You were far enough in the forest that it would take people several hours to get to you. Far enough away from civilization of any kind. What remained in the city, the bits and pieces left behind, would never be enough to build what used to exist. Like it or not…that part of the world had come to a close.

The chapter sealed and signed off with enough blood to keep it shut forever.

“Thank you,” you said softly as he struck a match from the small box you kept in your pack. “For today.”

He grinned, glancing down at his hands that fiddled with a stick. “Was nothin’ really. You wanted to see the city and we were heading this way—”

“Joel.” Cupping his face, you shifted his shining brown eyes until they were upon your face. Gazing at you with a look he’d never shown you before. “You gave me a day I’ll never forget.” He chuckled, grasping onto your waist gently. “Thank you.”

Those two words didn’t seem like enough to get your message across. You wanted to do the same for him. To give him something he’d remember, but nothing felt enough.

He pulled you closer. “Would have been better if you didn’t get attacked.”

“Well…” You looped your arm around his neck. “I knew what I was getting into when I chose you.”

Something shifted in the air between you the second he led you up those cracked and broken museum steps. The front of the building had been blown clean off by bombs, but you’d recognize it anywhere. The place where your future once led to. A home in your heart for so long. A dream not yet come to life. Joel took care to lead, to put himself in harm's way to keep you safe. But it was more than that.

He gave you time to look.

To take back a part of your past you never got to have.

An act that he’d never be able to do. He couldn’t go back, couldn’t take anything from his past that hadn’t already been destroyed. The watch on his wrist was all he’d keep. But you…he could give this to you. He could heal something in your heart you didn’t even realize was broken.

“I’d do it again,” he murmured, lips sliding along the inside of your wrist, nose pressed to your palm.

Your heart ached for him; body burned for him. And in the lowlight of the sun, you found your hope in him. It glimmered softly, barely within reach, but Joel had kept it for you all this time. He made sure to protect what you couldn’t—what you had given up.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, catching his quickly darkening gaze. “Please.”

The crackle of the flames couldn’t hide his small groan of pleasure as his lips met yours. What he intended to be soft, reverent in a way he’d never been before, shifted rapidly. His hand slid up your body, fingers wrapped gently around your throat to keep you in place. To help him devour you a bit deeper. That alone sent a flutter to rush through your entire body, your fingers digging into his wrist, silently begging for him to press down tighter.

To cut off the air he exhaled into your lungs.

“You got no idea—” He sucked in a breath when your lips met his throat, teeth nipping at the salty skin. Red bloomed beneath the surface as you went, small marks and bruises to prove that he wasn’t dreaming. That this trip was real—that you were real.

He growled, fingers tightening around your throat to pull your lips back to his, a rough breath exhaled into your open mouth. “No idea what you do to me darlin’.”

Sticky warm wet heat spilled into your stomach, flooding your already damp panties. The can was forgotten on the edge of the pit, his touch far more enticing than a few meager pieces of food. If you could survive on one thing alone, you’d want it to be him. You would train your body to sustain itself on his touch, his tongue sliding along yours, his fingers digging into your skin.

He’d become your oxygen, your reason for living.

“I-I do.” You gasped as his teeth dug into your throat, hands quickly stripping you of your flannel. Helping him, you yanked at your shirt, discarding it to the side. Nothing mattered but the feel of his tongue tracing along your skin—the hot mix of his touch and spit made you dizzy. “You do the same to me.”

A soft grunt was muffled into your chest, his hips rising up to grind against something. To gain what little friction he could.

In the midst of kissing him, he managed to drag you into his lap, your knees pressed to the forest floor on either side of his hips. Your body, as close as you could get with clothes in the way. You could feel the heavy press of him against your thigh and clenched around nothing. The needy emptiness that slammed into your body was nearly too much, but you held onto what little fragments of sanity still remained.

You clung to the bits of yourself he wished to consume, knowing the consequences of what might come afterwards.

But how could you give a fuck about consequences when his touch lit you up like the fire to your left? How could you care about anything else? When his lips wrapped around your peaked nipple and sucked at it as if you were his source of life.

His hands slid up your back, skin hot wherever he touched, as he pulled you down into his lap a bit more. Enough to feel the familiar press of his cock straining against his jeans. The sun was nearly gone now, light bleeding through the branches of the trees, and you let the warmth consume you. You relished in its burning caress as he worshiped your skin with his mouth, his hands that had spilled blood for you.

“Need to be—” He bit off with a sharp moan as you rolled your hips down, giving him the pressure he needed. “Fuck keep doin’ that.”

You were desperate for him and you weren’t afraid to admit it to yourself. The infatuation bordered on obsession, but if you were to say that about him he’d finally have to admit the same to you. He’d have to crack open his chest, bleed through your fingers like sand, and allow you to dig your way to his heart. As if you were conducting an autopsy on his body—picking a part each dark piece that he was ashamed to hold onto.

“Touch me,” you whined, digging your fingers into his hair as he dug his into your hips. A burning bruising touch that left you needy.

He grinned, pulling at the button of your pants. “I am touchin’ you darlin’.”

“You—fuck, fuck, fuck—” His fingers slid through your slick, finding their way to the parts of you he’d memorized in such a short time. Your clit practically throbbed beneath his touch, body shuddering as he circled it with enough pressure to electrify your nerves. “Yes.”

“That’s what you want?” The question was irrelevant. He knew this better than you, but that wasn’t what he was asking.

Is this enough? This quick fuck beside a fire as you both hid the real reason. Was his touch, his kiss, enough to show the truth?

Was he enough?

You choked out a soft yes, your lips finding his in a sloppy spit slicked kiss, and his fingers became insistent in their determination to watch you break. Joel had become addicted to the sight. His very own guilty pleasure—yet how could he feel guilty about something so angelic? How could he repent for a sin that he’d give up everything for? What was the point of worshiping at an altar when heaven existed between your thighs?

Eventually his fingers wouldn’t be enough. For either of you. But he was focused on one thing, feeling your pussy spill along his palm. He sunk two fingers into you knuckle deep and smiled as your head fell back, a throaty moan echoing off the trees. You grinded against his hand, fingers tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. And this was enough.

“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, hand still placed around your throat. His cock leaked as it constricted with your swallow and images of what he’d look like in your mouth flashed in his mind.

“M-More—” You gasped, your clit dragging along the heel of his calloused palm.

But you had begged for something else and Joel was never one to deny you. He ripped at your pants as you did the same with his, your lips messy and rough against his. You swallowed his moan the second your cold hand wrapped around his throbbing cock—precum sliding down your palm as he did his best not to finish there and then. He was so fucking wound up that this would be over before it began.

Neither of you cared.

“You’ve gotta know,” he rasped, gripping onto your bare hip as you hovered directly over his cock. Your pussy practically dripped onto him.

“Know what?” you sighed, sliding him through your slick.

He squeezed his eyes shut to the sight of you. The shine of firelight and sunlight played against your skin and Joel felt his body tighten painfully. The view alone nearly made you double over in pleasure, your breaths coming in short gasps as he fought to finish on the front of your pussy.

“That I—” He gasped as you began to sink down onto him, encasing him that sticky heat he’d begun to think was the cause of his demise. He’d never be able to live without this. Without getting to carve his way into your body. “Fuck darlin’.”

You grinned, cupping his chin and pulling his attention back. “I’ll go slow.”

“You don’t have to take it easy on me.”

“Seems like I might.”

A rumble started in the base of his chest, lips curving up as he caught your mouth in a searing kiss you felt down to your toes. The grip on your throat tightened as you began to move slowly, letting him pull out of you slow enough to cause madness to rise in your chest. Like a burn you refused to let go of. Joel had other ideas. He yanked you down with enough force to drag out a high pitched cry from your chest, your mouth falling open in a silent scream when he set his own pace.

Quick and fast and filthy enough to sign your name on hell’s roster. He wanted to fuck himself into your body so deep he was buried there. Wanted to paint your insides until you were leaking him all morning. He wanted to etch himself into your soul.

Permanent and without shame.

“C’mon darlin’.” His teeth dug into your jaw, pain slicing through the pleasure deliciously. “Let me hear ya.”

You curled into him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he pounded up into you. “‘S good,” you gasped, coherency going right out the window.

He grinned, tugging at your throat. “You can do better than that.”

Words faintly entered your mind before disappearing seconds later as he tilted your hips slightly. You scratched at his chest when his cock struck right where you needed him. Right where your mouth began to form words you fought so hard to keep at bay. Words that revealed too much, gave a window into your heart, and if you had the capability you’d shut your fucking mouth. But it was far too late for that.

“You like that?” he groaned, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip as he kept the angle. The veins on his neck were strained, begging for you lick at them, and you dipped down to distract yourself from the words.

The one thing that seemed to catch his attention.

“What was that?”

You whined, wrapped an arm around his neck as you dragged your hips along the coarse hair at the base of his cock. “Nothing,” you mumbled, sucking at his neck.

Only for him to pull you off by your throat, his lips hovering over yours. “What’d you say?”

“I—” You clung to him, begging for the truth to sink back into your chest. But he was staring at you with dark eyes and a parted mouth begging for you to kiss it. He looked at you as if you were ethereal and for that small moment, you believed it. “I love you.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, his hips stuttering in their movement. You watched his eyes go wide, understanding finally dawning across his features, and you prepared yourself for the worst. You waited for him to reject you. The words never came. He pulled you into a kiss, tongue sliding along yours, as he sped up his thrusts. Grunting into your mouth with each one—his body taut and begging for release.

“Yeah?” he panted into your mouth. You nodded, feeling the burn of pleasure begin to flash white behind your shut eyes.

“So much,” you sobbed, tears spilling down your cheeks. Something pulled tight in your stomach, building with each stunted move of his body against yours. You needed it, would beg on your knees for it, and Joel was right there with you.

His dark gaze met yours as he finally released your throat in favor of finding your clit. “Say it again.”

Heat rocketed up your spine as you locked down around his cock, his fingers insistent and rough. “I love you!” you cried, trembling in his hold. Those three words you’d been so afraid to say out loud finally spilled free over and over and over again. Until you couldn’t hear them anymore over the loud rush in your ears.

He slammed his hips up one last time, lips finding yours in a bruising kiss, and found his own peak. Spilling into you with a moan, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you pressed up close. You wondered if he feared you’d vanish before his very eyes.

“I love you,” he sighed, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes shut to your own wide gaze.

The words didn’t register at first, simply flying directly over your head. Yet as silence wrapped around your entwined bodies, sunlight disappearing over the last of the trees, you finally understood. No orgasm could match the absolute bliss that filled your body at the echo of his voice forming those words. Of their soft cadence. He was hesitant to look at you, to face what could finally break him, but your hands cupping his face drew him out of his own mind.

“Say it again,” you whispered, smiling so bright your cheeks ached. “Please.”

Before you could bask in their beauty, he was pulling away. Digging into his pack that lay behind him. You wanted to stop him, bring him back to this current moment, but the glint of something gold caused you to freeze. The breath once again caught in your chest.

For the first time you saw Joel grow nervous. Almost bashful as he lifted his hand and allowed a small green jewel on a gold chain to dangle between the both of you. The last of the sunlight glinted off the emerald and for some reason it reminded you of him. How it shone in those rare moments when light caught it just right. Yet held a darkness to it, a hidden truth yet to be revealed.

“I love you,” he said, pressing the necklace into your palms. “I always will darlin’.”

Tears dripped onto his hands as you clutched the dainty piece of jewelry to your chest. “Oh Joel.”

“It’s not a ring—”

You silenced him with a tear filled kiss, salt spilling across his tongue. He did what he could to wipe them away, but like it or not there seemed to be no end in sight. Not when your heart finally latched onto all those broken pieces you thought were lost. Joel did the one thing you never thought possible. He healed you.

“It’s enough.” You smiled into his kiss, the necklace digging into your palm—carving its shape into your skin. “You’re enough.”

You could see it now. The path your future led to. Not a building, or a job, or even a home. The end of your path—your grand plan—would always and forever lead to him.

#this is so long i don't even know what to say #um...i'm sorry for what's about to happen next????#ANYWAYS I'M JUST GONNA *dips for fear of this flopping*#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller #the last of us fic #my writing

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sp00kymulderr · 3 months

Text

Cherry

Chapter one - Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x ofc, bi!f!reader x ofc (eventual dieter bravo x reader x ofc)

Warnings: Nothing major for this part. Breakup angst, alcohol, jealousy, pining, cursing, not enough Dieter in this part sorrrry.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: After a bad breakup, a phone call with your newly married best friend leaves you with an interesting opportunity.

A/N: This one goes out to all my bi babes. There's a lot of set up here, but stick with me and I promise this story gets interesting real quick.

The third glass of the bottom shelf wine you’d picked up a few hours ago goes down a lot smoother than the first two. A bloom of flavour in your throat that warms what otherwise feels numb.

Your fingers twitch as you glance down at your phone, aching to look at Charlie’s Instagram one more time - just to make sure she’s okay, you rationalise. Make sure she’s not fallen into a well, or been abducted by aliens or something.

You kind of hope she has been.

Stevie Nicks sings Landslide through the tinny Bluetooth speaker on your coffee table, and you hum to the song that makes tears well in your eyes. Charlie hates this song, but since Charlie is now your ex and all her belongings had vanished from your home this morning it doesn’t really matter. She’d hate the wine too. You have to remember it doesn’t matter.

An errant tear slips from your eye - definitely because of Stevie and not Charlie - and as if on cue your phone buzzes loudly making you jump. A splash of wine lands on your couch. This week really isn’t working out for you.

A look at the phone screen makes you roll your eyes. The photo that comes up with the call is of you and Eva, your best friend for longer than you can even recall. You’re both wrapped in each other's arms and smiling wide, stupid toothy grins as you pose outside the modelling agency in LA that had signed her on for her first big break.

Eva was destined to be a model, really. She’d always been ‘pretty’; all curves, warm beige skin that practically glowed, entrancing chestnut eyes and long dark hair that fell in natural waves. But in high school she’d transformed from pretty to gorgeous seemingly overnight.

From that moment on no one ever forgot Eva.

She was more to you, though. To you she’d always been beautiful. Always. For a long time you’d passed the twist in your stomach when you looked at her for too long off as jealousy, but how could you ignore the stutter of your heart when she smiled at you a certain way? The more you two grew together, the more perfect she seemed to become. The more you wanted to look at her, spend time with her, be in her radiant presence.

Not that her looks mattered. Eva was kind, fun and a little goofy. She liked stupid slapstick comedies and she crocheted silly little animals in her spare time. You had a frog on your dresser she’d made for you years ago. She cared deeply about so much, and she always fought for what she believed in and what she wanted. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when she’d jetted off to LA several years ago to live her dreams out, then.

Of course no one is truly perfect, which is why you’re currently staring at your phone as it rings again and again, debating whether to pick up. Eva had always been drastically spontaneous and had a history of bad decisions. Usually harmless to anyone but her (the name of a one night stand permanently etched on her hip comes to mind), but two weeks ago she’d made what you could only see as the worst decision of her life.

You sigh, place down your wine glass and finally answer the phone.

“Hi Eva” you grumble down the line, turning the music off so you can hear her.

“You didn’t call me back last week” She offers instead of a greeting. You can hear something in the background that makes your eye twitch, a man’s voice and the clink of a glass.

You'd found out about this particularly bad decision not from your best friend, but from the noisy article on some dumb celebrity gossip website that had somehow made its way onto your timeline.

And you'd scoffed when you looked at the caption because of course Dieter Bravo had gotten married on a whim in some corny Vegas chapel, but then you had to do a double take upon seeing the picture of his bride; dolled up in a simple white dress that made her skin glow, platform white heels, dark hair in a bun atop her head and the same bright smile that had made your heart flip so many times in your life.

It was Eva.

Your Eva.

Eva the model who was leaving the chapel leading on to the Vegas strip with a wedding ring on her finger and Dieter fucking Bravo by her side. And they were smiling, laughing. Paparazzi shots of the two of them kissing in the street after the ceremony flitted behind your lids every time you closed your eyes for the last two weeks.

You could only assume it was a drunken whim that had turned your best friend from your Eva to Mrs Dieter Bravo.

So you were mad at her right now. Mad that she’d married some trainwreck celebrity she barely knew. But the real gut wrenching pain you felt was that she hadn't even told you; you'd had to find out after the fact through stupid papped photographs that made you want to claw your eyes out. You weren’t jealous, absolutely not.. You just wanted Eva to be happy. How could she be happy with a guy like that? You had heard plenty about Dieter Bravo; he seemed to have often been the subject of some ridiculous Hollywood gossip in the past, and then there had been that god awful Cliff Beasts documentary you'd watched for a laugh that certainly didn’t paint him in a great light. Sure he was an Oscar and Emmy winning actor now but jeez, from what you’d seen he wasn't exactly what you'd call marriage material.

Yeah, you were hurt.

"What? Say what you want to say” Eva sighs when you remain solidy quiet for a long minute.

"I don't have anything to say"

Her breath huffs down the line and you can practically hear her roll her eyes.

"You got married, Eva” You finally speak again, voice coming out quiet and more bitter than you’d wanted it to.

“I did, cherry” She responds.

The nickname she’d given you in grade school was never going away.

“You got married! To fucking…to Dieter Bravo!” It makes you laugh a little to say it out loud, and Eva can’t hold back her own small giggle at that.

“Yep”

You can tell she’s smiling, there’s that cadence in her voice that lifts when she’s really happy. Usually it’s your favourite thing in the world but right now it makes you fucking ache. Reaching for your glass of wine you take a big gulp before speaking again.

“I just…you didn’t even tell me. I’d like to know if my oldest friend is getting hitched, you know?"

“I do know, I do…I-” She stops and there’s a rustle of noise on the line as she shifts, “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, it just happened so suddenly…we didn’t exactly plan it. He made a joke about it and the next thing I knew we were on a flight to Vegas”

So it really was a spontaneous decision. You couldn’t even pretend to be surprised.

"I could've....Eva, I wanted to be your maid of honour if you ever got married, isn't that what we always said?"

"You can be my maid of honour for the next one" Eva offers.

Ok, she got you there, you can’t stop the laugh that comes. At least until you hear a man's gruff laugh in the background. For a moment it makes you see red at the thought that he's involving himself in your conversation even in the smallest way.

"Ev. This isn't a joke. You get why I'm mad right? And to Dieter Bravo of all people - look, is this a PR stunt?" You mutter a little meanly, taking another sip.

“Wow, screw you” She retorts, but it’s playful. “He’s nice...really nice. He’s fun. You told me to have all the fun I could have in LA, remember?”

“You weren't supposed to marry the fun, Eva!” You protest, but her happiness in the face of the ridiculous situation makes it so difficult to stay mad at her.

"Wait til you meet him, cherry pie. Just wait, you’ll get it. And…I am sorry, okay?” The line is quiet for a moment and you hear her moving presumably to a different room “I really am. But I didn't call to tell you about my married bliss. I heard about Charlie"

God, your stomach twists in knots at the mention. Being mad at Eva had been a good distraction from the breakup even if only for a moment.

"Oh, right”

“You wanna talk about it?” Her voice is gentle now, sympathetic. You wish she could hug you like she used to when you were sad.

“I’m fine” You lie, “I mean I thought she'd be my... doesn't matter. I’m okay" Massive lie.

Eva says some comforting words that you barely register.

You feel like you’re constantly standing at the edge of what your world could be. Maybe it’s why the marriage riled you up so much. You can’t pretend she doesn’t sound happy. And here you are broken up with again, alone again. Before she’d left to live her dreams, you’d had visions that maybe it’d be Eva you’d end up with. Maybe if you could just let yourself be fully real for once…Maybe she’d realise, and you could have been something bright and glowing and joyful too.

A whole lot of maybes that meant nothing in the end.

It’s just you now.

You zone back in to the call at the words ‘Bora Bora’ and ‘Don’t worry about the cost, cherry’

“Wait, what?” You stutter, trying to understand if you’re hearing her correctly

“Take a few weeks off, come with us. The hotel is paid for, we have one of those fancy bungalows. We’ll sort the flights. You need this and I miss you”

"I..." you hesitate nervously, biting your lip “I miss you too. But…”

Eva tsks at you, familiar with that tone even down a phone line.

"What are you going to do instead? Sit on your couch for three weeks and scroll her instagram for hours on end? I'm not letting you do that. Come on, cherry pie, we'll have so much fun. It'll be like old times" Eva gives as much enthusiasm as she can, but that hint of concern has notched in her throat. She knows you too well and she’s right.

"Like old times?" you huff "Except it'll be me, you, and your husband"

"You'll like him, I promise"

The call ends with your promise to think about it.

And think about it you do. All night, all of the next day. It’s a stupid fucking offer for them to make. It’ll be so awkward. What if he’s a nightmare? What if she’s not the same with you now she’s got a ring on her finger? You should say no.

You should really say no.

Two weeks later, after a day of sitting too long with not enough leg room, the little Air Tahiti plane lands in Bora Bora.

Your legs shake as you step off the plane. It’s possible you’re still in shock that you even agreed to this. Your stomach knots with nerves, as your bags are unloaded and you head over to the arrival area to find-

There she is. Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart beats faster. God, you really had missed her. It’s been months, and she’s still so her it makes everything suddenly feel okay.

“Cherry!” Eva squeals gleefully, dark glossy hair bouncing as she runs up to crush you into an insistent hug. You laugh, you can’t stop laughing as you hold on to her.

Your Eva.

“Oh my god, I missed you” You feel like you might cry as she utters similar sentiments into your ear.

When she finally lets go and steps back you finally notice the man behind her. Not that Dieter Bravo would ever be easy to ignore.

He's what you'd expected; The mess of brown hair sticking this way and that, the too casual clothes, scruffy facial hair. But he’s also…well he’s gorgeous, not Hollywood good-looking like the waxwork movie stars in all those big action films. You’ve seen his face before on screens and in pictures and yet you’ve never fully understood that this man is pretty, he’s different. He’s enthralling, even just at first glance.

Dieter tilts his head so you can catch his big brown eyes beneath the sunglasses he’s wearing and you have to stop yourself staring too hard. He’s what you expect, but he takes you by surprise too. He raises his left hand to scratch at his chin, a glint of the rings on his fingers catching your eye as you observe him before stepping forward with a friendly smile which he returns with a wry one of his own.

“You must be-” You start before he cuts you off.

“The fun, yeah” Dieter pushes his sunglasses down his nose and gives you a wink, followed by a grin before he turns towards Eva.

Your stomach flips, a twinge of jealousy as he takes hold of her hand and they share a glance at each other. You’re still processing the interaction with him but it’s impossible to ignore the way Dieter's face lights up when he looks to her - a brilliantly bright but bashful smile like he can't believe she's there, his eyes snapping up to meet hers like it's the first time seeing her.

Like he's desperately in love with her.

At least the two of you have something in common.

Tagging those who asked and those I think might be interested (pls tell me to remove if you want!):

@morallyinept @tightjeansjavi @covetyou @i-own-loki @bastardmandennis @tinytinymenace @chronically-ghosted @party-hearses @perotovar @schnarfer @5oh5

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x you #pedro pascal character fiction #pedrostories #poly relationship #this is so dialogue heavy I apologise but there was a lot to set up I hope it's not too boring!

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dejwrld · 8 months

Text

˚₊𓆩༺🎸༻𓆪₊˚ — summer of 22', choso kamo

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈 — FIREWORKS AND FIRST KISSES

🩰 — choso & y/n attend a summer festival together as technically their first real date, but feelings and the summer heat kinda get the best of them.

ᩍ before reading please be advised of the following warnings — female reader, female anatomy describe, slice of life au, band member!choso, skater!choso, record shop worker!choso, extremely fast paced fic, tooth rotting fluff, kinda my own ossumption and characterization of modern choso, profanity, mentions of family drama, reader & choso making out, slight exhibitionism kinda, brief clit play, kinda, festival chapter yay, mentions of other characters: utahime, geto, maki, yuji, mimiko and nanako (whose aged down for plot purposes) | mdni, taglist, masterlist, other creations

chapter playlist | moment by vierre cloud, small infinity by houston kendrick, honeymoon fades by & sabrina carpenter

It’s been a week since Choso admitted to having a crush on you and your mind still was running rapid about him telling you this. You’ve completely ignored the fact that he was crushing on you when you two would text or talk on the phone late at night. You adore how patient he was with you, even though you were sure he craved to hear your thoughts on the crushing situation—he didn’t pester you about a decision on if you like him back or not.

He was so soft with you that it caused your stomach to fill with butterflies and your cheeks to radiate so much heat. Choso clouded your mind so heavily that even your little class of eight-year-old dancers could tell that you were thinking of someone. The innocent teasing of them claiming you have a boyfriend when they catch you staring off with a smile. Currently, Utahime is sticking a beautiful pink flower hairpin in your braids that was pulled back into a perfect bun.

“Your head has been in the clouds lately, are you okay?” Utahime questioned as she glanced in the mirror in front of your vanity. “I’ve noticed you dazing off when you practice.”

“It’s nothing.” Your words tumble out so quickly that Utahime knew that was a lie. She finally managed to neatly place the hairpin in your hair before she glanced in the mirror at your reflection.

“Is it that boy?” Utahime questioned. “It’s so strange because your mother always would say the same thing when she would space out. Just to find out she was daydreaming about your bonehead of a father,” Utahime chuckles before she motions for you to stand from the seat you were sitting in.

You stood up smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles from your attire before speaking, “He admitted to having a crush on me.” Your eyes glance down at the geta footwear that was on your feet before you glance at Utahime’s teasing smile.

“That’s so cute, but he’s a nice guy. I met him when he first got hired at Suguru’s shop.” Utahime pointed out. “How do you feel about that? The last time you were serious with someone, it was that one guy. What was his name?”

“Naoya. I wouldn’t count that as anything serious. We didn’t really get anywhere. He just was a bed warmer after long hours in dance class.” Your shoulders shrug. “I don’t know, maybe we’re moving too fast.” Your words sting your own tongue even saying.

You liked Choso, you liked him more than you expected actually. He brought a smile to your face without you realizing it. He made you feel so alive that on some occasions you forgot to breathe. He was a breath of fresh air in your suffocating world of dance and you loved that.

“Do you think you’re moving too fast or are you only saying that to consider self-sabotaging what you guys are growing into?” Utahime waltzs around you to ensure that your yukata is perfect.

Which it was. The floral print and pastel pink shades complement your complexion wonderfully. You felt like a princess that just got pampered and frankly, you couldn’t wait to see the way Choso’s eyes light up brightly when he saw you.

“Maybe, I am self-sabotaging. I’m only here for three months before I have to return to the States for university.” You grabbed your clutch to place important things in it. “What’s the point of putting my all into something that could be temporary to the both of us.”

“You don’t know that Y/N,” Utahime says. “You don’t know if he views this as a temporary thing. You’re just overthinking.” She playfully slaps your shoulder.

The sound of your phone ringing interrupted your next words and your cheeks heats immediately seeing his name flash on your phone. Your thumb drags alongside the screen to answer the call and hearing Choso’s voice sent a nourishing quiver down your spine.

“Hey, I’m outside. I was wondering if you wanted to walk to the festival together.” He then kisses his teeth. “I should have asked this earlier, but I was helping with the inventory at the shop, so I forgot.” He rambles on about his day of counting records for Suguru and your lips curve into a smile as you’re mouthing a farewell to Utahime and leaving the room.

“I’m coming down now, just give me a couple of seconds.”

You end the call and when you finally make it down, Choso is leaning against a wall waiting. The black kimono he wore hugged his figure nicely and displayed that whatever free time he had outside of being a responsible older brother, skateboarding, working in a record shop, and being in a band—he worked out. When his eyes landed on you, his smile grew bigger and his eyes glimmered while he closed the gap in between you.

“Wow.” was the only thing he could utter as his dark eyes glossed over you one more time. He extends his arm for you to grab upon and you do immediately. “The festival isn’t that far away, so I hope you don’t mind if we walk. I just thought it would be nice to do so.”

You smile at him while gripping his arm while walking, “I’m okay with that. I’m just glad to be spending time with you.” You look over at him and notice the tip of his ears immediately reddens at your words. “Does your ears always do that?”

“When a pretty girl has me blushing, yup!” Choso bluntly admits as he walks in the direction of the festival. The two of you can already hear the loud music from different instruments.

“That’s good to know. It means I’m doing a good job at winning you over.” You playfully nudge his side with a smile. “I’m glad you invited me to this, I would have been stuck being bored in Utahime’s place.”

“They have a pretty cool firework show at the end and I thought it would be cool to watch it with you.” Choso smiles and now it was your turn to feel your heartbeat quicken and your cheeks steam with heat.

You peek down at your shoes before speaking, “Then thank you again.” You quickly pressed a kiss on his cheek before continuing to walk.

This time not only did his pierced ears illuminate a shade of red, but his cheeks also. You had a charm on the man and you knew it. “Did you ever talk to your brother? You guys left off on a sour note,” You pointed out as you glanced over at him.

“He actually hasn't been home lately. Staying over at a friend's house because it’s closer to his internship,” Choso’s lips form a straight line as if he was trying to believe his own words. “But he’s supposed to be here tonight because he volunteered to work at one of the booths.”

“Well, I still think you guys should talk. It seems there's some tension between you two,” You point out. “But we don’t have to talk about it,” A comforting smile spreads across your face while you continue to walk. Your eyes look ahead seeing the decor for the festival bit by bit.

“I don’t want to dampen the mood, it’s just when our mom just up and left leaving us with his grandfather—it took a toll on him when he was younger. He told me he saw her again when he was out with his friends and she completely ignored him.” Choso comment. “So, I feel like he’s doing this just to try to get her attention. Which he’s never going to get.” Choso sighs.

A frown appears on your face hearing his words and you sigh, “I’m sure he’ll realize that she isn’t a good person.”

“But I just don’t want him to realize it when it’s too late,” Choso interjects and when you two finally make it to the entrance of the festival, the gloomy look that decorated his face disappears. “But on a lighter note, let’s have some fun.”

You didn’t want to pester him anymore about the situation. You gave him a smile and let him guard you through the crowd at the festival. As you two ventured through vendor booths and food booths, Choso noticed Noritoshi holding the hands of Mimiko and Nanako while talking to this dark-haired girl who wore a royal blue kimono.

“Choso!” Noritoshi yells while waving the hand he briefly detached from holding one of the twins.

You approached the group with a smile and Noritoshi couldn’t help but return it.

“Suguru, went to go find Satoru in this crowd of people and I’m stuck with the two lovely twins.” He motions to the twins who were gripping his attire completely shy since it was a certain stranger by you.

“Mimiko and Nanako, how’s dance class?” Choso bends over to their height to open his arms and let them run into them. He picked both of them up with ease. “You know, my friend here always is a dancer.”

“Really?” Nanako glances over at you and you wave at her but her shyness overcomes her again and she hides her face in the crook of Choso’s neck.

“So, Choso. This is Maki, she's the newest employee at the shop and guess what? She’s a bassist player,” Noritoshi smiles at him.

Maki adjusted her glasses on her face before waving, “Suguru told me you guys needed a bassist player,” Her voice trails off before speaking. “So, here we are. Do I need to like audition?”

Choso and Noritoshi share a look and you were expecting for them to say yes because that’s what bands do. They held auditions for members to join, but they shook their heads and let out a similar laugh. “No, if Suguru hired you, you got to be one hell of a player,” Choso answers.

He places the twins back down, ruffling up their hair before looking at Noritoshi and Maki. “I’m going show Y/N around, text my phone.” He stops abruptly to give Noritoshi a warning look. A look that told Noritoshi to not call his phone at all while he showed you around.

“Jeez, I get the memo. Remember you’re opening tomorrow, so don’t stay out too late.” Noritoshi’s eyebrows weary together. “Now, who wants taiyaki?” He asked the twins who cheered excitedly and grasped Maki’s hand to follow Noritoshi into the crowd of festival attendees.

Now you and Choso were alone again to enjoy the festival, engaging in childish games at booths, and now enjoying food before the firework show to conclude the evening. You ate your food and soon you felt someone staring at you when you glanced up from your food, you met Choso’s alluring gaze as he tapped his silver ring-covered fingers on the table you sat. You swallowed the last bit of food that was in your mouth before speaking, “Is there something on my face?” You question while hands embarrassingly brushing anything off your face.

“You don’t have anything on your face, Y/N.” His lips swell into a smile before adding. “You’re just so beautiful.” He sighs happily and leans forward to pick up one of the dumplings from your food and pop one in his mouth.

Your body grows hot and a tingling chill travels down your spine before clearing your throat and sipping at your throat. “Thank you. But I must remind you, if we want to have a nice spot for the fireworks show, we should hurry.” You glance at the time on your phone.

Choso continued to eat as if your words went into one ear and exited out the other. He takes a bite out of his food and shrugs his shoulders, “I know a spot that has the best view of the fireworks. Don’t worry,” He flashes a comforting smile that causes you to ease in your seat—correction, make your whole body fill like a bowl of putty Geto’s twins possibly play with.

“Special spot? I’m flattered, have you brought every one of your dates to this special fireworks viewing spot?” You ask.

“No, I usually don’t go to these types of things. But I thought it would be romantic to take you,” He grins and you can’t help but return the smile.

Choso finishes his food and tosses it in the trash closest to you before speaking again, “Do you have doubts that I’m actually interested in you?” His dark eyes that you tend to be afraid to gaze at look at you.

“It’s not that.” You split your last dumpling in half—picking it up with your chopsticks and guiding it towards Choso’s mouth. He eagerly eats the half you offered and waits for your response. “It’s just I refuse to believe that you’re single or it’s not other girls in life or interested in you.” You eat the last bit of your food.

Choso picked up your trash to throw away before finding his seat yet again. His fingers comb through his jet-black strands of hair, “Obviously, there are girls that are interested in me. That private message me on social media, and believe it or not—even a groupie or two. But they don’t pique my interest as much as you.” He explains.

He watches you chew at the straw of your drink before grabbing your free hand. Despite the summer heat that had you sweating in your attire, the coolness of his rings cooled you down. The pad of his thumb rubs against your hand, “I know, we only have such little time together before you’re back in New York. But, I feel good about this. About us. As hopelessly romantic and cliche as this sounds.” He sighs and removes his hand from yours.

You felt empty when he drew his hand away to stand up.

“Are you ready to see some fireworks?” He extends his hand for you to take and you grab onto it because you wanted his touch more than ever.

You let him guide you through the crowd of people who were making their way closer to the sight of the fireworks. But, when Choso made a turn in an area that you were sure wasn’t meant for festival goers—you gripped his hand tighter, and like the gentleman he was, he returned the squeeze just to comfort you that you were going to be okay. He opened the gate and let you walk through first and the two of you followed a trail that led to a hill that overlooked the festival. Many people that were wandering around looked like ants compared to where you and Choso were. Completely starstruck from the view, you didn’t notice that Choso put down a blanket for you to sit on. You kick your shoes off and sit down on the blanket next to him just in time for the first firework to decorate the night sky that had a sprinkle of stars twinkling down on you.

Your eyes glance at the colorful works of art in the sky, but you didn’t even notice the stare Choso was giving you at the moment. As his body was sprawled out on the blanket and his head resting in his hand, he stares at you as if you’re the best piece of art in the world’s exclusive museum. As if you were the muse of every song he’s written with Noritoshi. While you were astonished by the fireworks in the sky, he was astonished by you and your beauty that causes the blood to rush to his olive shaded cheeks.

“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer,” You turn to look at him, your body moving a bit to be closer unintentionally.

“Maybe I should do that,” He fishes for his phone and put the camera on you. “Smile.”

You smile for the camera and when he was done, he show you the picture. You wanted to admit that this the happiest you’ve been when you were away from home. From traveling to Russia to Europe, your ballet trips around the world were eventful—but lonely. You’ve spent the time with your peers, stunned everyone with your skills, but still felt alone. But this summer, you felt as warm as the weather that kissed your skin when you left Utahime’s apartment. He made you feel this way.

“Can I ask you something?” Choso breaks the calming silence between you two. His eyes glancing at the fireworks but then back at your face to meet your curious look.

“Sure, ask away.” You respond.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

Your heart pulses in your chest and you are forced to swallow the lump that suddenly formed in your throat. Timidly, your head nods because you are lost with words—but if those words were to untie and come undone, they would be eagerly saying yes. Yes, that Choso could place his soft pink shaded lips on yours as if it was the end of the world.

When he leaned up to meet you halfway, his lips crashed on yours so intensely that your mind immediately froze. Choso kissed you as if you’ve never been kissed before. Stealing the thought of every guy that you’ve lip-locked with and tossing it in the trash because they no longer mattered. The kiss was hot—moist and breathy, the two of you weren’t per se trying to win a battle of who’ll kiss harder, but more so still learning what kissing technique can cause the other to gasp in a hot moan or cause goosebumps to garnish each other’s skin. Less likely a battle, but a union—a mere collaboration to want to be close with each other. Surely, Choso knew this. He’s urging you on your back under the blanket that was on the ground, while his large frame climbs on top of you—not breaking the kiss at all.

You wanted to curse yourself for deciding to go all out at this festival. Utahime made it known to you that you didn’t have to wear the attire because people also go to the festivals in regular clothing, but you want to respect the culture and be in the spirit of the date insisted. Now it was in between the steamy moment of Choso’s guitar playing hands from free roaming your frame. His lips travel across your jawline, kisses, sucks, and nibbles. The sound of the fireworks blocks out your moans, but just at the sight of Choso’s pierced ears growing red—you knew he could hear them. He knew he was making you feel better even if he couldn’t indulge in the wetness in between of your thighs.

His lips travel back to yours to deepen a kiss that made your heartbeat. Your eyes shift close in the bliss of the moment before your fingers comb through his hair. You tugged his long strands just a bit to gain a moan before he finally gave you what you wanted. His touch.

The fireworks expand brightly in the night sky above you two, practically being the only source of light you and Choso had. His fingers dance behind you to undo the knot that holding your kimono together and close. But he didn’t fully push it open, just a bit to help him be comfortable in between your thighs that he used his own knee to push them apart.

His hand disappeared in between your bodies and you anticipated him to slide those guitar-strumming fingers in your panties, but teasingly—his index and middle fingers pushed upon your folds. Even you can feel how wet you were due to such a small task causing your panties to stick your lips provocatively. Your eyes finally open and you’re met with Choso staring down at you. His cheeks were stained with a crismon colored blush and kissed swollen lips were curving into a smirk.

“All we did was kiss, Y/N.” He reminds while fingers trace alongside the waist line of the seamless nude panties you wore.

You cover your face in embarrassment just in time to feel your face warm up. “Oh shut up.” You slap his shoulder playfully.

“Do I have that much of a charm on your, hm?” He rubs his fingers in a circular motion, not even bothering to pull your panties to the side. But to let you wither under him as he teases you.

“Maybe you do,” Your words were like a broken record. You can hardly get your words out with him toying with you like this.

“That’s good to know,” He clicks his tongue and he pulls your panties to the side. His lips kissed you so sensually until you were moaning mess beneath him with each motion of his fingers.

You’ve heard many rumors and jokes about how band members are splendid with their fingers and gosh, was he proving those rumors to be as true as ever. He haven’t even inserted any in you yet, but just the way he strummed your clit as if it was his guitar caused you to moan out his name.

Choso. Choso. Choso.

In a faint whisper in tune with the fireworks, he says in your ear, “That’s right, say my name.”

Through the cracks and booms of the fireworks, for the remainder of the night—the only name you knew was his and the fact that he was very talented with his fingers.

(🎸🩰) — tags. @maydayaisha @spiderpunkfien @bbytamaki @honeybleed @yeagerzprettyblnt @smileyy-cakee @hoohoohope @theclassbookworm

#choso kamo x reader #choso kamo fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk smut #anime fic #anime x reader #angelshubnetwork #anime smut #choso kamo smut #female reader #black reader #x black reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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