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fictionalsweethearts · 4 months ago

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THE COMMISSION PT. 4 | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

'The Commission' series: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, epilogue.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn baby 💋, several parts btw, nsfw, smut, fingering omgg

If you're underage, be responsible and don't consume smut content. I AIN'T YOUR MAMA TO SPANK YOUR ASS.

Word count: 5,384 (yes, things HAPPEN in this chapter)

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

Two years earlier

"I'm fine." Sevika murmured, in a tone that could scare anyone away. Except you.

Third day in a row you slept in Zaun's main square, you were cold and your stomach was asking for a more substantial dish than the cookies you could afford. You smelled of street, oil and rain, you were risking everything to get some money and sleep under a roof today.

Many warned you about Sevika, it was better not to mess with her or even show your nose, unless you were proposing a card game, a business or you were a lady-in-waiting. You were none of the three, but you trusted what your hands and your tools were capable of. You held the toolbox, keeping an upright posture even though inside you feared ending up in a dumpster or bleeding to death in the middle of the Last Drop.

"Your arm seems to need a checkup." You insisted. "I know the model, I assume you've had it for about five years, yeah?"

Sevika frowned, putting down the cards and letting out a puff of smoke. She didn't look convinced, more irritated. You insisted.

"I don't charge much."

Sevika flicked her eyes up and down your form, her expression stern. She had seen you before - a street rat, hanging around the less salubrious parts of the city. You were skinny, dirty, and reeked of poverty. You had no business approaching her, let alone with such audacity.

"And what makes you think you can fix it?” she scowled, her voice as harsh as sandpaper. "You some kind of mechanic?”

"Yes." you said, noticing the way Sevika was studying you. You couldn't call her out, you had to swallow your pride in order to swallow a decdent meal later, if everything goes right. "I used to work at Benzo's pawn shop, fixing unused appliances. I brought fine pieces back to life." you said, your eyes flickering to Sevika's mechanic arm. "Like yours."

Certainly Sevika was not pleased with your audacity, she was forced to answer for Silco to idiots, drug addicts, gang members and murderers, so you were just another one to add to the list.

"Used to?" she grunted, her eyes narrowing as she took another drag on her cigarette. "What, you get fired or something?"

"He's dead." you reminded her, knowing damn well Silco's goons were behind that.

Yes, you were bretraying yourself and your past by turning to Sevika to offer your services, but your situation wasn't getting any better. Not with a dead father, an absent mother, and debts to deal with. You should have known better, gambling leads to no good, neither does the air of Zaun. You fell victim to both, the first killed your father, the second probably killed your mother, you weren't sure. And the debt collectors were breathing down your neck.

She eyed you for a moment longer, her gaze weighing your worth. You were desperate, that much was obvious. And she couldn't help but see an opportunity in that. "Alright," she grunted, her voice gruff. "Let's say I let you take a look. What's it gonna cost me?"

You huffed, you were losing dignity there. "A meal." you shrugged. "And a sip of whiskey if you're feeling generous. But I assure you, I do a fine job."

"You'll get your meal and your shot of whiskey," she grumbled, knwoing she would regret giving you a chance. "But if you don't do a damn good job, I'll rip your pretty little head off."

"My head will stay above my shoulders..." you stated. "And your arm, brand new." you added.

Sevika raised her eyebrows, giving the guard a signal to let you come over and take a seat next to her on the couch. You had little time to prove that your offer was not talk but fact. You opened the toolbox, taking out a screwdriver to begin taking apart the arm and separating the pieces. The supply of Shimmer on top seemed novel, but predictable. You knew what to do

As you progressed with your work, Sevika's first impression about you began to crumble. Beneath the hollow cheeks and dark circles under her eyes was a beautiful girl intent on her task, with attentive eyes, deft fingers, and latent confidence. The woman then began to ask questions, hoping to intimidate you.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-six."

"So young, and already out on the streets?" she grunted, her voice carrying a hint of mockery. "What, your parents throw you out or something?"

"They're dead." you mumbled. Sevika was holding her card with her flesh hand, still gambling while you were attending her prosthetic arm.

Your confession did not move her, having parents alive and present in Zaun was a privilege. However, her curiosity only increased. "Orphan?"

"You could say so." you said, glancing at the disassembled parts, studying the system of Sevika’s arm. The thermal paste needed changing, luckily you had some on you, the seals needed oil too, and some of the gears could use replacing.

"So you're just a street rat then," she said bluntly. "No family, no friends, nowhere to call home."

"Rat." you huffed. "I'm prettier than that." you might have been hungry, skinny and dirty, but you were a lot smarter and prettier than a goddamn rat.

"Maybe," she smirked. "But you still smell worse than one."

As Sevika took the time to mock you, your eyes were split between the arm and the opponents' play. You were sure that Sevika was taking a big risk by continuing to allow the cuprier to keep adding cards to the deck. "Stand," you whispered. "You're too close."

Sevika raised her eyebrow, planning to ignore you, however your comment didn't seem to be wrong. She let out a sigh before raising her hand to the cuprier. With that, the man turned over his cards. "Seventeen." The man said, to which you looked with pleased eyes at Sevika's nineteen.

"Agh, for fuck's sake." groaned one of the opponents, losing the bet. Blackjack was quite unpredictable, but you advised Sevika well; she hit the jackpot.

She chuckled, turning to look at you with a mix of surprise and respect. "Well then, not bad," she said, her voice gruff but impressed. "You really know your stuff."

"The rat's useful." you mumbled. "I have a name, though."

"I haven't asked your name." she replied, as she placed her just won chips on the pile.

"I rather you to remember the quality of my work than my name." you stated, assembling the arm back on Sevika. You turned the last screws, applied oil to the parts, and finally inserted the supply of Shimmer into the shoulder compartment, clicking your tongue. "Set and done, miss."

As the arm connected to her system, Sevika immediately noticed the fluidity of the gears and the restored sensitivity of the metal fingers. She flexed her arm and stretched it out, looking at you with a half-smile. It was all she would give you, along with an, "And here I thought I would rip your head off."

Before you could accept the praise wholeheartedly, there was this sudden commotion in the club. Another bastard too immersed in Shimmer to contain himself had entered, knocking out the guards with just the touch of a hand, and actually, knocking down everything in his path.

Fuck.

Sevika tensed, eyes flickering to the situation. She recognized the signs of a Shimmer-induced maniac, and knew damn well the trouble that could follow.

"Gods," she growled under her breath. "Not this bastard again."

Sevika quickly rose from her seat, her eyes watching the Shimmer-fueled maniac with a steely glare. It was only a matter of time before he would turn his attention to the rest of the bar, and Sevika knew she had to act fast. One of the other players had already fled, hiding behind the wall near the bar. The other stood frozen in fear, unable to speak or move. But you remained calm, your eyes on Sevika, awaiting her next move.

Sevika looked more irritated than alert, she moved her mechanical arm and walked towards the purple beast in front of her, her bearing filling the entire place, her confidence latent. You watched the fight unfold with a smile, the arm worked like a charm and there was no denying that you did a great job, especially when Sevika pulled the opponent’s leg against her and her elbow landed on the knee joint, bending the limb at an unnatural angle, followed by a punch capable of sending him flying through the air and landing in front of the bar. You drank from her glass, watching the guards carry the unconscious opponent away and Sevika letting out a sigh. The music began playing again.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, and by then you had realized that it was a habit of hers, and before scolding you for your attitude and your audacity in drinking from her glass, the woman called for the waiter. "Bring the girl dinner, and a glass of whiskey." she mumbled.

"I like it with soda," you added, smiling pleased from the couch.

Sevika rolled her eyes. "With soda," she said.

When you had already filled your stomach and calmed your nerves with a good whiskey, Sevika reappeared through the door. She had disappeared during your dinner, but returned to the room with a small bag of coins between her fingers and a less cold look than before; you could read the ambition on her face.

"For the arm repair," Sevika said, placing the pouch next to you on the table. To it, she added a small card with an address and the Silco symbol on the bottom, known as the "Eye of Zaun."

You knew that card was your golden ticket.

"This..." she said lowly. "Is a way to keep yourself fed and off the streets, if you're interested."

As you nodded, Sevika leaned in to whisper in a tone that made you shudder. Her scent of tobacco wafted into your nose, her closeness overwhelming. "Report to this address tomorrow at 8. Not a single minute later. We'll talk business when the time comes."

"Yes, ma'am." you said, making Sevika grin.

"Sevika." she said. "I am not into formality."

With that, she walked away, leaving you with a job opportunity and a pouch full of coins.

You did it. You fucking did it.

And tomorrow you would prove that your actions weren't just talk but pure merit. You counted the coins, it was enough for a hotel room and half of what you owed Horner. You smiled, he's always been good faking a Shimmer overdose.

As the days went by, you went from rat to girl. You met Silco, you closed a deal for private services to the organization, you took care of the maintenance of machinery, clothing and weapons. You were a full-time worker, you spent your hours within the four walls of the workshop, living off of coffee, bread, fruit and whiskey. Sevika watched you from the beginning, it was the task that Silco had entrusted to her; "Keep an eye on the girl, make her work and keep her mouth shut."

And that's what you did.

When the time came, you went from girl to mechanic. The workshop was not only your workplace, but your temple. Silco allowed you to accept external orders, you began to build a business that not only gave you autonomy, but also colored your cheeks, filled out your muscles and gave you the beauty that poverty had taken from you.

It was then that you went from mechanic to sweetheart. And Sevika forced herself to keep her distance, but the numerous appointments to check her arm, the jokes, the glances and the talks had loosened this armor against you. Now you ate full dinners, steaks, roasted vegetables, drank lemonade and replaced coffee with Shimmer, with Sevika as your only provider.

That was her mistake.

She thought she had done you a favor by providing you the doses. You worked better, your efficiency was through the roof, your performance impeccable. But that night, seeing you unconscious on the floor of her office, surrounded by paramedics and pale as snow, Sevika knew that you ended up like this because of her.

Her fault. Her damn fault.

"You've allowed this." said Silco, dragging from his cigar. He seemed quite unbothered by the situation, considering your incident as another problematic worker that couldn't control herself. All businesses have causalities, however, this wasn't just any. "She wasn't supposed to be at your office."

Your inert eyes, the way your body lay languid, a purple substance coming out of the corner of your mouth as if your insides were melting, the paramedics trying to revive a being whose life was hanging by a thread. It was a nightmare.

"She's dead." The paramedic said.

Dead.

You died for her.

Because of her.

"Ah!" Sevika sat up suddenly, a drop of sweat wetting the back of her neck when her eyes landed on the halo of moonlight that was leaking through the window. She had dreamed of the accident again.

She wiped the sweat from her neck with a quick gesture and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Just a dream, she told herself, just a damn dream.

Sevika didn't even stop to put her mechanical arm on, which was resting next to her bed, but left the room at a quick pace and uncovered your sleeping figure on the living room couch.

You were fine.

You were curled up on the couch, your bandaged wrist resting next to your face, serene and calm. Your breathing reminded Sevika that you were still alive, even though you threatened to die on the old wooden floor of her office a month ago. But you were too stubborn to die from an overdose. You shifted in your spot, the breeze biting at your skin in the absence of the blanket over you, and when you opened your eyes you found the immense silhouette of Sevika before you. You screamed.

Sevika winced at your sharp cry, her hand reaching out instinctively to cover your mouth, to silence the sound before it echoed through the apartment.

"Shhh!" she hissed, her eyes darting towards the main door. The last thing she needed was for someone to think she was murdering someone in there.

"Quiet, quiet," she whispered, her hand still firmly over your mouth. "You'll wake the whole damn block with that shrieking."

Your heart skipped a beat before connecting two coherent thoughts and realizing it was Sevika. The woman pulled her hand away. "Fuck, don't stand in front of me like that again," you gasped. "I thought it was the grim reaper."

She took a step back, giving you some breathing room. "Believe me, he must have more important things to attend to," she said, her voice still low. "Just came to check on you. Didn't mean to scare you like that."

You sat up, reaching out to turn the oil lamp on. Sevika was still on her tank top and boxers, it was unusual to see her without the prosthetic arm. "I'm fine." you said. "You could've came to check in the morning, damn... what time it is?" you asked.

It's three," she replied, her tone still hushed. "Go back to sleep, girl. I just... wanted to make sure you were alright."

The lamplight outlined Sevika's silhouette, you could see the sweat on her neck and a certain pallor on her face. You assumed it was another nightmare, you already knew about them, but you avoided bringing them up because every time you did, she would shut you up with an "I'm fine, girl, go to sleep."

You watched her walk towards the balcony, a pack of cigarettes in her hand and a deep sigh leaving her lips. When she had the cigarette between her lips, you were suddenly beside her, lighting it up. “What’s really going on?” you asked.

"Can't a woman just enjoy her smoke in peace?" she grumbled, taking a drag from the cigarette. But there was no real malice in her voice, just a touch of weariness. She leaned against the balcony railing, the metal cool beneath her bare arm.

You sighed, coming up against a wall again. Sevika was impenetrable, so much so that you didn't know what was going through her mind unless she said it, and you could certainly assume it had to do with her nightmares, but you didn't dare to intrude on her fears. Still, you stayed next to her on the balcony, your stomach aching as the first sign of withdrawal.

The first few days were atrocious, you trembled and vomited every hour, you believed that dying was more pleasant than enduring such nausea and fits of anger and pain. However, Sevika stood firm by your side, brought you to her apartment and such a nurse, kept track of your symptoms and silenced them with the medicines the doctor had prescribed you. More than once, she stayed next to you on the couch, talking to you about trivialities or reading a book until the sleeping pill took effect and you could sleep. Only then did Sevika allow herself to stroke your forehead and relive the guilt of the accident.

Sevika had lived long enough to witness the effects of Shimmer on people. It didn't just destroy wills, it destroyed bodies and minds. The mutations from overuse of Shimmer were morbid and grotesque, luckily you didn't experience any, but that didn't make seeing you on the office floor, languid, pale, with your eyes open any less terrifying. Silco saw Sevika lose her temper for the first time in his life.

"I shouldn't have let you take those doses," she finally muttered, the words coming out with a hint of gravel in her voice. "I should've found a different way. This..." she gestured to you, the signs of her failure still lingering in the bags under your eyes and the scars along your arms, "...this is on me. My fault."

So that's what it was all about; guilt. Sevika had learned to take the blame for other people, to take responsibility for other people's mistakes, and this time was no different. Yes, she made a mistake by giving you doses of Shimmer for two years, but you were the one who decided to relapse. And you took all the blame. "Nobody forced me to relapse that day, Sevika." you stated. "And nobody could've stopped me neither, not even you."

For a moment, she was quiet, mulling over your words, the smoke from her cigarette spiraling up into the night air.

“You shouldn’t be the one consoling me, girl,” she said finally, the vulnerability in her tone betraying her gruff exterior. “I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

"We both know that a worker isn't taken care of the way you take care of me," you stated, your words implying more than what they said.

"You've never been a mere worker for me," she stated, letting out a puff of smoke, moving away into the air. Zaun was quiet, as if the city had stopped the day you nearly died. "Sometimes I can't stand you, you don't know when to back off."

You reached for her cigarette, taking a drag. "I never learned to back off."

“Of course, you didn’t,” she said, a note of resignation in her voice. “You’re as stubborn as they come. Should’ve known from the beginning that I’d have my hands full with you.”

And here you were, two years later, sleeping on her couch and making her coffee in the mornings, refusing to die without proving once again that you are many things, but not a street rat.

You had already settled into a routine. Sevika would leave early in the morning, usually returning at noon to check on you. You always waited for her with a cigarette and a cup of coffee, you started adding a touch of whiskey when you realized she liked it. You used to keep the apartment clean, read the books Sevika kept, play with her cards and sometimes take out your tools and make crafts or repair unused items, even though Sevika had forbidden you to work until you had recovered.

"Your recovery comes first, girl. Go easy."

Sometimes you found yourself chatting with her on the balcony, taking drags from her cigarette and oiling her mechanical arm, before daring to ask how her day was, absorbing her worries and whispering a "you always put up with too much, Sev" afterwads, only for her to shrug and light another cigarette. Being her tenant had allowed you to see Sevika in a much more intimate setting, without the need to maintain the impenetrable facade. You watched her sleep, yawn, train, and even cook; your favorite was the mushroom stew with enhacium powder. It was quite the meal, always leaving you with a heavy stomach and a pleasant drowsiness, although your tongue took the brunt of the sting of the powder. Sevika could feel you starting to itch as your cheeks colored, and with a smile, she would hand you the lemonade.

You were embarrassed to admit it, even more so considering that the overdose could have killed you, but you were grateful that circumstances led you to live with Sevika. Sometimes you wished you had done it sooner, but you remembered the way she reacted when you woke up in the hospital and regretted it.

"Don't you ever do that to me again, girl, understood? Never again." she said, agitated, holding your hand in hers.

You could never apologize enough to take the blame off Sevika's chest, so you just limited yourself to being a good roommate.

"Would you mind helping me with the painkiller?" you asked then, placing the cigarette between Sevika's lips. Despite having started the methadone treatment more than a month ago, it still gave you the shivers to handle the syringe.

"Of course," she said simply, her voice a mix of gruffness and understanding. "Let me do it."

You two sat down on the couch, Sevika holding the cigarette between her lips as she wrapped the elastic around your arm and tightened it. You didn’t admit it out loud, but ever since you’d been staying at Sevika’s apartment, your favorite time of day was when she helped you with the methadone. You loved the way her eyes focused on you, her thumb gently searching for your vein, commanding you to close your fist, then after piercing your skin, whispering “there you go,” pulling the needle back out before caressing the mark with her finger and purring “good girl.” She made you feel special, you were pampered by a woman who didn’t pamper anyone, and it was exhilarating in the most unusual way.

You thought you could take a thousand injections if it meant continuing to be Sevika’s good girl.

"Easy as pie," she said, her voice a rough whisper. "No pain, no drama." she added, disposing of the syringe in the trash can.

You watched her put out her cigarette in the ashtray, expecting her to sit next to you and wait for you to fall asleep like she always did. You had gotten used to hearing her voice by now. Just then, the first hit of the drug bathed you. It was always the strongest, however after a few weeks, the dose had decreased and only gave you a pleasant drowsiness.

"You're getting sleepy." she said. "Good."

Sevika watched as your eyelids fluttered shut, your body slumping back against the couch. The drug had done its work, a gentle drowsiness seeping into your limbs and calming your nerves. You felt an arm wrap around your waist, Sevika lifted you over her shoulder and carefully carried you to her bed. "It's too damn cold in the living room," was her excuse, even though you didn't ask for one. The bed was still warm, wide and the sheets smooth. Sevika wasn't lying when she said she prefers her whiskey neat and her bed soft.

She turned off the lamp, snuggling up to you, keeping a prudent distance that at the moment seemed ridiculous to you. "Do I scare you?" you teased her.

"Scare me?" she huffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Come closer then." you said, pushing your luck just enough. And Sevika seemed to give in.

You rested your head on her chest, allowing yourself to inhale her scent and feel the beat of her heart; it was slow, imposing, just like her. Sevika frowned, ignoring the urge to bury her nose in your hair and entwine her legs with yours. You heard her sigh, you were dozing off by then. "Rest, girl, you need it."

Sevika wasn’t the best early riser, but she woke up in a better mood that morning. A hand around your waist, her nose on your neck as if your scent alone had calmed all her nightmares, and it did. You were still asleep, comfortable and serene while she spooned you, unaware that Sevika pulled you close to her, taking in your cleavage from where she was; your shirt had shifted in the night, revealing more of your skin.

Look away, Sevika, get a grip.

Sevika sighed against your neck, knowing she was treading unfamiliar and inappropriate territory, but she couldn't help it. Her hand found the edge of your tank top, pulling it down just to reveal your breasts; smooth, tender and full.

No, she shouldn't, but... she wanted to? Absolutely.

Her lips found the sensitive area of your neck, trailing kisses and nips down to your shoulders and collarbone, daring to squeeze one of your tits between her fingers. You shifted on your place, the air biting on your bare chest managed to draw your attention and Sevika pulled her hands off, as if she was spooked of herself.

What the hell am I doing?

"Mhm..." you uttered, your hand seeking for Sevika's, bringing it back towards your chest. "Don't stop." you whispered, your eyes still closed.

Sevika gulped, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her body as she reached out again, catching your breast between her fingers and massaging it gently, peppering kisses down your neck, your cheek, your shoulder. You felt her abdomen press harder against your back, you shifted your ass against her, half asleep but perfectly aware of what was happening, and you wouldn’t let her stop.

She grunted against your neck, her hand squeezing harder your breast. "Don't move," she growled softly, her breath hot against your ear. "Stay just like this."

You moaned, your hand reaching her cheek, urging her to touch you, to kiss you. Your eyes fluttered open as she ran her hand down your stomach, teasing your lower belly, down to your legs, the inner side of your thighs. "Sev..." you purred.

"I'm here," she whispered against your ear. "I've got you."

"Shit." you whimpered, your eyes shutting once she slipped her hand into your shorts, settling between your legs. That's all you needed to fully wake up. "Ah, god." you panted, feeling her fingers against your slick.

"You're so wet for me, aren't you?" she breathed against your ear, her words sending a shiver down your spine. She pressed kisses along your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. "Yes, you are."

As much confidence Sevika showed, the truth was that inside she was shaking with fear. She was crossing a line she had imposed on herself when she met you two years ago, and she had never felt so out of control as she did now. It wasn’t just your moans, it was your scent, your heat, the idea that she was the one who gave you the opportunity that night at the club and now you were lying on her bed, squirming under her hand. She forged this situation from the moment she laid eyes on you, not knowing that you intended to end up in this position ever since she leaned in and her tobacco scent filled your nostrils. You intended to work for Sevika, to be her confidant, her best partner and above all… to become her weak point.

You pulled your head back, moaning as Sevika parted your legs and eased a finger inside you, licking your ear. "Sleeping on my couch, playing with my cards, wearing my clothes while I'm gone; all you've done to end up here." she mumbled, easing a second one, knowing you could take it.

"Yes, I... I did it." you whimpered, gripping the sheets between your fingers.

"You were testing me." she stated, biting on your neck. "Always pushing my buttons to see when I would give in."

You knew Sevika wasn't just playing around with you when she rubbed the heel of her hand against your clit, already swollen and sensitive for her. The room was filled with the obscene sound of your slick, your moans and Sevika's words. "Legs apart." she commanded. "You never learned to follow instructions, learn now." she said.

"Yes, ma'am." you whined, before Sevika chuckled.

"Didn't I tell you I'm not into formality?"

She could never forget the details of the time they met, no. Not when she was the one who saw you enter the club with your toolbox, your tired eyes, your steely confidence. Not when she was the one who asked Silco for a job opportunity for you and paid you with her own coins. Not when she chose you, for herself, from the first moment.

You were hers from the beggining, and somehow you knew it.

Her hand continued to work between your legs, her fingers moving expertly, making pleasurable heat pool in your belly. "You can pretend to be tough all you want, but when you're with me, you're not."

Your legs were locking around her hand, your breathing quick and ragged as Sevika sped up the motion of her fingers. Fuck, you were starting to shake, that tickling sensation settling in your stomach.

"You and your insolent mouth, your smug smile…" she whispered. "I wanted them for myself, I always did." You shifted, knowing that if Sevika had the mechanical arm on, she would already be choking you. However, you felt her move over you, trapping you against the mattress.

"Sevika… I'm…" you mewled, realizing you were on the very edge. "Huh, please..."

"I know." she smiled, as she laid above you, her hand firmly working on your throbbing pussy. "Now kiss me, pretty girl. Earn it."

You cupped her cheeks, kissing her as much as your moans would allow, tasting the tobacco on her tongue, her teeth between your lips. Sevika kissed like she walked, and that was saying a lot. You pulled back, realizing the trembling of your legs was the hint of an orgasm you couldn't contain. "Oh... god...!" you cried against her lips before you dove into the sensation.

And you melted.

Sevika leaned down to kiss your chin, your neck, totally in love with your whimpers and trembling lips, your smell of sweat, your juicy pussy. You barely rode the high when Sevika kissed your belly, a hand tracing fingers on your knee as her mouth hovered over your core. "I could lick it off of you, y'know?" she smirked.

You were in no position to ask or deny anything, but Sevika was in the perfect position to tempt you and play on your desire. “If only I didn’t have that meeting with Silco in…” she glanced at the clock beside the bed. “Ten minutes.”

Oh, no.

"Ten minutes is more than enough." you said, even though it sounded like a plea.

But Sevika chuckled, leaning to place a kiss on your lips. "I don't rush things when I eat a pretty girl out." she stated, leaving the bed.

You propped yourself up on your elbow, staring at Sevika with your lips apart. Unfazed, she took the mechanical arm and connected it to her shoulder, glancing at you with a rose brow.

"Wait for me with the coffee ready," she said, walking to the dresser to get ready. "I'll finish what I started, sugar, don't worry."

To be continued...

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Also, I haven't stopped to thank u all for your reception of this series. It makes me absolutely happy you girls like it so far! Thank u all <3

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skaybrekker · 1 month ago

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no time to die.

Summary: you are a Resident at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital, one of the most loved ones and unfortunately, you went to the Pittfest. There, after the shooting, you helped a lot of people, even as you had been shot as well and once helps gets there, they take you to the Hospital, where a lot of people are worried about you.

Word count: 8.5k.

Warnings: gun violence, MEDICAL INACCURACIES I'm not a Medic nor a Medic Student everything I wrote was based on GOOGLE, angst, graphic description of bullets wounds, death (reader lives), violence, gore, hurt/comfort, fem!reader. English it's not my mother language, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.

Pairing: the pitt x reader!, no romantic relationship, all of it it's platonic.

“Please tell me that you being here means that my shift just ended.” You didn’t even let Dr. Robby say hi to you before you attacked him with a clear desperation to get the hell out of the ER.

It had been a tiring shift, with almost a broken record of OD’s. It wasn’t just physically exhaustion; it was also mentally tiredness. You had to tell three families about how their teens children had abused drugs so bad to the point where they couldn’t save them. It had been absolutely horrible and an experience you didn’t want to repeat.

Night Shifts had these things that could destroy you mentally if you didn’t know how to manage them. Day Shifts had its things as well, as everything, but between you and your own mind, the Nights had this adrenaline that ER Doctors were addicted to.

Dr. Ellis and Dr. Shen were both great companies, you loved sharing shifts with them. Dr. Shen and you shared this calmness on the ER that was not common in your job but that somehow, described so well your personalities. Dr. Abbott was usually drove mad over your easy behaviour in such stressful situations and you always told him that you had learnt this calmness from the best, aka, Dr. Robby.

You, just like Dr. Mohan, were a R3 Resident, one of the youngest in history; a prodigy it was what you were usually called, even if you didn’t like one bit that word. You liked to say that your brain just worked a bit faster than everyone’s else, that’s it.

As soon as you arrived at this Hospital, you took over everyone’s heart. All the people who worked here loved you, even Dr. Abbott, who was known for having a soft spot for you. After all, how couldn’t he, when you were the best of the best?

Since you were one of the youngest one, most of the Doctors and Nurses in the hospital had taken under their wing as their child, loving to care for you and to watch you become better and better on your job. You would be forever grateful for the family you had gain in the job. They were the most important people for you.

“You aren’t enjoying the pleasure of my company, Dr (Y/N)?” Dr. Abbott grumbled from Dana’s right, smirking and you huffed, while hearing how Dr. Robby let out a loud chuckle.

“My dear Dr. Abbott, your company it’s always a pleasure, but I really want to get the hell out of here.” Dr. Robby, always the serenest and kind one, put his hands in your shoulders, giving you a comforting smile.

“Yes, Dr. (Y/N), the fact that I just arrived means your shift just ended. Go home and relax, for I what I heard, you deserve it.” His words made your tense shoulders relax, and you let a sigh full of relief, while muttering ‘Thank Gods’.

“She won’t do much relaxing today, right dear?” Dana, quite literally the best nurse alive said, smiling playfully at you and you let a smile full of excitement form in your face.

“What?” Dr. Abbott frowned, glancing at you.

“I’m going to the Pittfest! My friend got us some last-minute tickets. Gods, I’m so fucking excited. Today is going to be fun.” You clapped your hands together, shrinking in happiness.

“Well, at least one of us is going to have fun today.” Dr. Langdon appeared out nowhere, winking an eye at you and you sticked you tongue in his direction.

“It’s that jealousy that I hear?” You raised your eyebrows at him, and he quickly laughed, shaking his head.

“Hell no. We will probably have tons of more fun here than in a fucking hippie festival.” It was a comment that probably should be treated in therapy since it might not be normal to have fun in an emergency ER, but this was how you all worked, addicted to the adrenaline of always having something to do.

“Rude.” You answered, lifting your middle finger and Dr. Langdon gasped, putting a hand in his chest and looking at Dr. Robby as if you had just killed somebody in front of him.

“Hostile environment at work. Do something!” You scoffed, but the one replying to him was Princess.

“Dr. Langdon, I’m sorry to be the one breaking the news, but Dr. (Y/N) here is clearly their favourite, they won’t do shit to her.” She said, smirking and that made you laugh loudly.

“So fucking unfair.” You heard how Dr. Langdon mumbled, making you hit him playfully in the arm.

“Alright, alright, I’ve heard enough, I’m getting out of here. Good luck with your shift, Dr. Robby, Dr. Langdon. Don’t miss me too much.” You turned around, finally determined to get out of here.

“We won’t!” You heard how Dr. Langdon replied to you, and you smiled, shaking your head.

You quickly put a hoodie on from your locker and grabbed the backpack you always brought, ready to get out of the hospital. Before you could really leave, though, Dr. Robby took you by the arm and you frowned at him. However, when you glanced at the four people in front of him, you realized that they were the new interns and R2 that had their first shift in this hospital.

“Alright guys, now, I want to present to you to Dr. (Y/N). Sadly, today the night shift got her, but let’s hope next time we are the ones blessed by her presence. She’s the nicest Doctor you will meet here, so, enjoy every case you will work with here.” You blushed a bit, smiling at the high praises from your superior, still not getting used to them and then you looked at the new people.

“Hello everyone! As Robby said, I’m Dr. (Y/N). If you need anything at any moment and we are sharing shifts, just look for me and I will help you. I hope you have a great time today. Good luck, I’m sure you will all do great. Believe me, I’m telling you from experience, you are in really good hands.” You smiled and to your satisfaction, you observed how most of them relaxed at your words, returning the smile. You had always liked having interns around, loving to teach them and to get those glazy looks in their eyes that they get every time they see something amazing.

Out of every Resident, you were the one who was usually follow around by the interns like puppies and Dr. Robby was usually really satisfied with the thing they said about you; it was probably a relief to have at least one Resident who honestly liked to teach.

You said goodbye once again and finally; you move out of the hospital.

Since it was pretty early, once you got home, you quickly throw yourself to bed to have some hours of sleep, setting an alarm for 1PM. You arranged with your friend to meet at your home around 2PM, since it was the closest one to the place where they were doing the festival, already ready to get on the move.

Once you woke up with the alarm, you felt well rested. Gods knew you needed those hours of sleep. After taking a quick warm shower, you started to get ready. Due to the fact that it was a calm festival, you went for some white jeans, a green shirt with some sprangle, a pair of Texans and some simple make up, with green details in the shadow of your eyes.

Since it usually became cold in the night, you decided to take with you an oversized hoodie and just when you were about to prepare a sandwich to eat, you heard how your friend knocked. Smiling, you went to get the door and as soon as you opened it, Alex threw herself at you, a loud pitched scream leaving her mouth. You snorted, catching her and whirling around for some seconds.

“YOU’RE READY?!” She asked (screamed), letting you go and jumping around the house, thing that made you shake your head in fond.

“Yes, just let me finish my sandwich and then we will go.”

A couple of hours later, you and Alex were walking through the festival, going from one scenario to the other one, laughing at some boys who were trying to get to the top of the big letters that formed the name of the festival while security was screaming to them to back down.

One moment, you were laughing with your friend.

A second later, you were falling to the ground, a blinding pain hitting your leg, while shots were fired everywhere.

For a moment, it was as everything was in slow motion. You blinked, harsh breaths leaving your mouth and a weird ringing sound beating your ears. Then, finally, reality washed your mind.

There was a shooter in the festival.

You were shoot.

Shit, shit, holy mother of Gods.

Panic filled your veins, your chest constricting at the honest fear. You could see people in throwing themselves to the ground, people falling down after being shoot, and you looked at your right, where Alex was and to your relief, you saw that she was also in the ground, but clearly unharmed. She was screaming your name, but you could barely hear it.

Then, you finally reacted.

“ALEX, WE HAVE TO LOOK FOR COVER!” You screamed, looking around frantically and the closest thing you had was a big can of trash. You pointed your finger at it and Alex quickly nodded, both of you starting to crawl. Once you were covered, you sat with your back against the trash ban, asserting your own wound.

The bulled had hit you in the right thigh. Since you couldn’t feel a hole in the other side, it meant that the bullet was still inside. Blood was quickly spitting out and you knew you had to act fast before the bleeding made you pass out or worse, go into shock. You had been applying pressure since you had sat dow but it was clearly not working, so, you needed another plan. The next step was quite obvious; you had to apply a tourniquet in yourself.

“Alex, I need you to apply pressure in the wound for some seconds.” You told your friend, who immediately nodded and put her hands in your wound. A blinding pain roamed through your body at the feeling of somebody touching your injury making you whimper, but you breathed in and out for some seconds and told yourself to suck it up.

The only thing you had on hand that might work was your shirt, so, you took it out, staying only with your sporty top. You ripped it into sheets, shaping it into some kind of strip and as quick as you could, you put it around the high part of your thigh, obviously below the hips but about two from three inches above the GSW. You knotted the shirt, and you breathed out, preparing yourself for the amount of pain you were about to feel.

It was alright, you could do it. Come on.

You tightened the knot and the scream that left your mouth was guttural. You felt how your eyes fluttered, the amount of pain you were in making you rave, however, you stubbornly forced yourself to stay awake, tightening the shirt even more with your shaky hands. Once you let go, you back fell into the bin since you didn’t have the strength to support your own weight anymore.

“(Y/N)?!” You heard how Alex screamed, and she took you by the cheeks, making you see the panic state she was in.

Your heart was trumping loudly against your chest, tears rounding around your eyes. The pain was unbearable, as if something was constantly sticking a knife through your thigh and you throwed your head back, almost whitening out. You wanted it to stop, stop, stop, but the pain kept going and going. God.

“Did the bleeding stop?” You muttered weakly, blinking at your friend and she froze for some seconds until she reacted, jerking her head around to watch your wound. To your pure relief, she looked back at you and nodded. “Good, good, then I will be fine, Alex. Don’t worry.”

Alex was shaking, kneeling and not knowing what to do, since she was a Graphic Designer, not a fucking Doctor or anything like it. Looking at you being in such a pain probably wasn’t easy either, so, you tried to suck it up as much as you could, wiping the tears with your shaking hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You whispered, your voice fragile. Alex’s look stuck frozen on you, as if she couldn’t believe you were telling her you were fine after being fucking shoot. But it could be worse, alright? You had seen worst cases in the ER than this one. You were going to be just fine.

The good thing was that shoots stopped. For a moment, the whole place stayed silent and then, another hell started.

Screams full of sorrow, of pain, of anger and you knew in that moment that you needed to start to help immediately.

Alex must have guessed by your determinate expression.

“No, no, you don’t. You will stay exactly here until help arrives.” But as she was ordering you, you were already starting to get up with the help of the bin. You knew that with a bullet wound in the leg, the last thing a Doctor would recommend was to start to walk around, but fuck that. You could feel the adrenaline already kicking in, thing that was going to help to maintain your pain at check.

“Help won’t arrive until at least ten minutes. I have the power to save lives right now, Alex. You can’t stop me.” You replied, clenching your jaw at the pain roaming through your light leg, having to grab yourself from the trash bin to not fall down again. Alex also got up and looked around, grabbing her own hair, tears falling on her cheeks. Yet, a moment later, she glanced at you and nodded.

“Alright, alright.” She passed an arm below yours to help you walk and once they gave a couple of steps, your breath hitched.

Saying that it was a mess wouldn’t even begin to cover it. People running around, bleeding out in the ground, some trying to do CPR on others. You breathe in and out a couple of times, closing your eyes for a moment to fully focus. You could do this. You were a Resident, the best Resident. You would usually kick assess in the ER, this couldn’t be any difference. Once you opened them back, you started to try to help.

“EVERYONE LISTEN UP!” To your own surprise (and relief) almost everyone shut up, glancing at you. Well, it seemed that after all, Dr. Abbott was right, your voice was truly strong when you wanted. “I’M A DOCTOR, SO I WILL DO MY BEST TO HELP YOU ALL. HOWEVER, I’VE ALSO BEEN SHOT, SO BEAR WITH ME.” The blinding pain in your leg intensified at that moment and your legs trembled. Alex caught you, though, and you let out a long breath before keep going, ignoring your friend’s eyes full of concern.

“I NEED YOU TO LISTEN TO ME VERY CAREFULLY. WHEN I GO TO HELP YOU, AFTER ASSESING THE DAMEGE, I WILL ASSIGN YOU A COLOR. ONCE THE HELP GETS HERE, YOU WILL TELL THEM THAT DOCTOR (Y/N) ASSIGNED YOU SAID COLOR. IF WHOEVER YOU ARE HERE WITH GOT SHOT, KEEP PUTTING PREASURE IN THE WOUND AND NEVER STOP. DO NOT, UNDER ANY FUCKING CIRCUNSANCE, GET THE BULLET OUT. FOCUS ON THEM, NOT ON YOUR PANIC.” She didn’t have much else to say, so, she quickly started to walk with Alex’s help to the closest person she had. It was a young man, probably mid-twenties. Blood was spilling out of his stomach and the girl trying to help him wasn’t being capable of stopping the bleeding.

Gun wounds in the stomach were the ones with the highest mortality rate, so this was not the best case to start with. But fuck it.

“Is the bullet inside of him?” You asked the girl in the calmest tone possible, kneeling beside her. When the pain in your leg blinded you for a moment, making you see black spots, you realized that it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but you kept your own hurt in the back of your mind.

“Yes, yes, but I-I can’t stop the bleeding, oh Gods.” You checked for a pulse and thankfully, you found it, thing that meant that he still wasn’t a black and white case. It was a penetration wound, with no exit and in the low abdomen. His airway was good, thing that meant that nothing outside of his abdominal structure was hit. He didn’t have a tender belly. The most important thing at the moment was to stop the bleeding, thing that the girl was already trying to do.

“Listen to me, I know this is hard, but I need you to keep applying pressure with all your strength. Take off your shirt and use it, it might be better than your own hands. You’re doing amazing, keep it like that. Once help gets here, scream to them that you have a Red Case. They will understand it. If you see that his chest stops raising, you scream for me.” The girl nodded, taking off her shirt and quickly going back to apply pressure with it. You got up with Alex’s help and went to the next victim.

It was a woman in her late forties, with her probably daughter kneeling beside her. She was putting pressure in her right arm, where you could see how the bleeding was still going on. Goddamn it, what was today with bleedings not stopping?

You throwed herself at her side, knowing that as the bleeding wasn’t stopping, you were going to have to apply the second tourniquet of the day. You glanced around and you noticed, thank God, that Alex was wearing a belt.

“GIVE ME YOUR BELT!” You yelled and immediately, Alex took it out, her hands shaking as she handled it to you. Once you grabbed it, you put yourself at the side of the woman, the daughter glancing at you with her eyes full of panic. “Alright, kid, listen to me, I will have to apply a tourniquet to your mum. It will hurt, a lot, so I’m really sorry that you have to see and hear this. Once I tell you, you have to stop applying pleasure. Clear?” The girl nodded and you didn’t lose any time, knowing that seconds were gold at the moment.

In a quick movement, you broke the shirt that the woman was wearing, completely exposing the wound. Leaving about three inches between the injury and the belt, you put it around the arm.

“Ma’am, my name is Doctor (Y/N). I’m about to put a torniquet in your arm. It’s going to hurt like a bitch, but I need you to be strong for me so we can stop this bleeding. Do you understand me?” You kept your voice controlled as much as you could, needing to transmit security and calmness. The mother blinked at you, but thankfully, then she nodded.

You didn’t lose any more seconds and as fast as you could, you tightened the belt in her arm with all the strength you had. The woman let out a scream full of pain, her entire body shaking, but you ignore it, tightening the belt even more. The daughter was now sobbing, but fortunately, some seconds later, the bleeding stopped. You let out a breath full of relief and you glanced at Alex.

“What time is it?!” Your friend blinked at you, probably not understanding why you were asking that, but she took out her phone and told you the time. “Okey, kid, the bleeding stop, that’s good. When help gets here, tell them that you have a pink case and that a torniquet was applied to your mother at 6:15PM.” You didn’t let the girl answer you, getting up and going to the next victim, even as dizziness was filling your own brain.

It was an older man, blood spelling out of his head, thing that never meant anything fucking good. He was sitting with his back supported by a woman, who clearly didn’t know what to do and was probably in shock.

“Ma’am, its okay, I’m here to help.” The woman glanced at you, her eyes shining with tears and you tried to give her the most comforting smile you could muster. “Could you tell me what happened to him?” You asked, noticing how the man had passed out, another bad signal. You opened his eyes, noticing the blown pupils. Shit.

“W-we ran, as soon as the shooter started, we just ran, but it was such a mess I-I, he, Robert crashed into somebody and they were running so fast, he fell to the ground and his head started to bleed.” You nodded, rubbing your face with your hands before speaking again.

“Okey, okey, listen to me, we need to stabilize him in case he has a spinal injury. I can see that the bleeding stopped, thing that’s good. I need you to place your hands on both sides of his head. Keep the head in line with the spine and prevent movement. When the paramedics arrive, scream that you have a Red Case that includes a head injury and possible a spinal one.” The woman nodded and you quickly helped to put her hands when they needed to be, putting her in the most comfortable position so none of her extremities would numb before help gets here. Then, however, you noticed that the woman was also bleeding. Her entire arm was a mess of pure blood.

“Ma’am, is the blood in the arm yours?” You asked, moving around to get close to her and examinate the wound. She shakily nodded her head.

“Y-yes, somebody cut it with their shoes. It doesn’t hurt much, though.” You let a silent sigh, knowing that they were other victims worst that needed your help and that you couldn’t stay here to help her.

“Alright, then also tell them that you are a yellow case, yes?”

She couldn’t answer you because before she could say anything else, some loud shouting interrupted her.

“HELP! I NEED HELP!” Well, that was definitely your signal. You nodded at Alex, and she helped you to get up, starting to walk as fast as you could to the woman screaming for help. She was in clear panic, grabbing her head and sobbing loudly.

“MA’AM! I need you to calm down and tell me why you need help.” You yelled at her once you got closer and she just managed to grab you by the arm and drag you some meters away, where a child was lying in the floor, his chest immobile. Fucking shit, shit, shit.

In a quick movement, you fell to the floor, kneeling at his side and immediately started CPR, your movements steady even as you could feel how the pain in your leg was consuming your entire body. You heard how Alex asked the woman where he was hurt, a question that you were also wondering. However, once glance at his leg told you exactly what this was.

He was shot in the leg, and he had probably lost way too much blood, causing him to go into hypovolemic shock, thing that meant that his heart was getting enough blood to function.

Two minutes later, when you were about to give up, the boy finally arched his back and let out a long breath. You heard how the mother screamed, but you did your best to ignore the noise, focusing on now the leg injury. It kept bleeding, thing that wasn’t good news. You had to act quickly before he went into shock again.

“I NEED ANOTHER BELT!” You screamed at Alex, who in a minute or two returned with one. God bless her. “What’s his name?!” You asked the woman, moving yourself to position at side of the leg, where you were about to apply another tourniquet.

“MAX!” You heard how she screamed back, and you straightened, looking at the boy in the eyes who was already looking at you.

“Hi Max. My name is Doctor (Y/N) and I’m here to help you. I’m about to do something to stop your bleeding, but it’s going to hurt and a lot. However, it might be the thing that saves your life, so I need you to be strong for me and to withstand the pain. Hold your mama’s hand as strong as you need to, yes?” The kid, some seconds later, gave you a weak nod and the woman took his hands into hers. Once again, wanting to act fast, you put the belt around his leg, maintaining the needed distance and then you tightened it. The scream that left the kid’s mouth threatened to break your heart, but you kept your feelings at bay and tightened the belt as much as you could.

Your breathing had grown ragged due to the exhaustion you were already feeling, but to you focused on praying to every God known in history and to your relief, the bleeding stopped a minute later.

“OH GOD, THANK YOU!” The woman was full sobbing, hugging her son as if her life depended on it and honestly, you didn’t have the enough energy to smile, so, you just accepted Alex’s help to get up.

“Ma’am, I will need you to give your son your jacket and every piece of clothing you might find. Warm is going to help to not worsen the shock. Keep him awake and talking. When the paramedics get here, tell them that you have a Red Case and that a tourniquet was applied to your son at 6:21PM.”

»»————-　🩺　————-««

“There’s an active shooter at Pittfest.” Dr. Robby didn’t know that his world could crumble with such few words. He froze and then moved his head from side to side, blinking, as if he couldn’t believe what she had just said.

“Jake and his girlfriend are there.” Then, as he thought it couldn’t get worse, today’s morning encounter with Dr. (Y/N) played in his mind, the bill raising in his throat at the reminder of what you had said earlier. “And Dr. (Y/N) is also there.”

Shit, shit, shit. How the hell was he going to get his crew to focus when such an important person to the entire hospital could be hurt or, even worse, already dead? How was he even going to focus when two of the most valuable people in his life were in such danger?

He knew, as soon as he said the words Pittfest, everything would go to shit.

He wasn’t mistaken.

“Mass casualty at Pittfest.” For a moment, the entire hospital went silent, everyone stopping everything their were doing. The first one to react was Dr. McKay.

“Pittfest? Didn’t Dr. (Y/N) said she was going there?” Dr. Robby rubbed his face, but didn’t say anything else, knowing that nothing he could say could calm down an entire crow of nurses and Doctors worried for you. Some people gasped, others just took their hands and covered their mouths with it. He clenched his jaw but forced himself to react and to give a small speech to get everyone in the move again. Thankfully, they did and when he turned around, he saw Dr. Abbott entering the hospital, thing that made his entire body fill with relief.

“Brother, I’m so fucking glad to see you.” Without being to avoid it, he gave him a small hug and Dr. Abbott clasped his back, but he felt how his entire body was tense.

“You know who’s there, right?” He whispered, pulling back but staying close enough. Robby sighed but nodded, biting his lip.

“I don’t know what we will do if she gets here injured.”

»»————-　🩺　————-««

When the ambulance started to arrive, you had helped countless people. You had lost count a long time ago, but you had applied about six tourniquets, two CPR performed with successful resuscitating, one dislocated shoulder fixed and a many stopped bleedings. You had lost only one man, who had been shot three times. You tried truly your best, but you couldn’t do shit without equipment.

You could feel how the wound was starting to bleed once again and how dizzy you had become. Alex was trying to stop you from going to help another man, telling you that you should sit down, when one paramedic took you by the shoulders.

It was Mark, a paramedic who would frequent your hospital. He was about Dr. Robby’s age, and he was the one you would always joke around because he looked so much like Pedro Pascal.

“DR. (Y/N)?!” You blinked a couple of times at him, processing the fact that he was in front of you and then you nodded.

“Mark, hey, yes, it’s me. Have you already taken all the Reds?”

“Yes, yes, we did and now we have to take you, Doctor. That leg wound looks nasty.” Almost immediately, she shook her head. “No, no, do not waste places for me, I’m sure there is people worse than me. Please, Mark.” But the man didn’t budge.

“(Y/N), Robby would literally have my head if he found out I didn’t take you with me as soon as I saw you. And don’t even get me started with Abbott. Please come with me, I’m begging you.”

“(Y/N), please.” Alex also said, some tears in her eyes and you bit your lip, but finally nodded. With the paramedics here, you weren’t going to make such difference and the pain on your leg was fucking killing you. As the pain started to catch up on you, your knees buckled and if it wasn’t for Mark, you would have fell straight to the ground.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Mark took you into his arms, running to the parking lot since probably the ambulances were full. You could barely think, the pain almost numbing also your brain, think that probably didn’t mean anything good. You observed how he looked around. “YOU! IN THE TRUCK! You have space for two?!”

A male voice yelled back yes to him, that he had in the backseat and Mark quickly put her there, indicating to Alex to put pressure in the wound as it was starting to bleed out. You think that he told you something like stay alive, but you weren’t really sure. The car started and something that you could tell was that the man was driving fast.

Around five minutes later, while you were resisting the tiredness trying to dominate you, somebody hit the glass of the back of the truck and you turned your face around, seeing how a young boy with his widened eyes was screaming that somebody had stopped breathing. You blinked a couple of times and then adrenaline took over.

“STOP THE TRUCK!” Getting strength from God knows from, you screamed and the man driving immediately stopped. You throw your leg back to the floor, letting out a howl full of pain as you opened the door and got out of the truck, hearing how Alex was screaming at you to keep still.

Well, not for nothing they said that Doctors were the worst patients, right?

Helping yourself with the truck, going as fast as you could, you finally made it to the back. Understanding that you were also wounded, the young boy popped the truck open and helped you to get on, lifting your entire weight. You passed a death body, a woman shot in the arm and finally got to the man the boy was screaming about.

“GO TO THE BACKSEAT AND TELL HIM TO MOVE!” You ordered, putting yourself on top of the man starting comprehensions. The truck started once again, and you felt your exhaustion creeping and you sensed how a sob threatened to get out of your mouth. However, you shallowed it and focused on the man.

You didn’t know how much time passed, but the next time the truck stopped, the hospital where you worked came in view and Gods, you had never felt such relief in your entire life. Dr. Robby was the one who popped open the truck.

You didn’t let him say anything.

“Man in his last thirties, down for about five to ten minutes, GSW to the middle abdomen.” You said, almost robotically, and Dr. Shen took over, also glancing at you for a moment. You couldn’t say anything else because as soon as you saw how the man was being taken care of, you fell into the truck due to the pure exhaustion, shallow breaths leaving you. Your vision became blurry, and half of your body was trembling, while the pain in the leg became even worse.

“NO! (Y/N)!” Robby screamed, moving the other three people out of the way and giving them to another Doctor to get to you. He grabbed your face, looking for your eyes and you gave him a weak smile. You had never seen him in such a panic state, he looked like he hadn’t slept for days. It made you a bit sick. You, for obvious reasons, hadn’t had the time to think about everyone’s reaction in the Hospital once you arrived.

“Hi, Robby. Believe me, this wasn’t my idea for my free day.” He shook his head, and you could see how concerned he was. He quickly asserted your leg and the expression he did was a bit worrying.

“I NEED A GOURNEY!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, moving you, but you immediately jerked your head.

“No, no, do not waste a bed in me Robby I swear to God, I’M FINE!”

“YOU’RE NOT FINE, (Y/N)!” You heard Dr. Shen scream, thing that was actually weird since you couldn’t remember many times on which you had heard him raise his voice like this.

Robby completely ignored you, taking you into his arms and putting you in one of the gurneys, starting to move as fast as he could. Two nurses appeared on each side, one of them being Dana. “Oh, hey Dana. How’s my favorite nurse?” You asked, feeling yourself fall into a completely delirious state due to the pain and you heard how she let out a wet chuckle.

“We were so worried, sweetheart.” When you entered the ER, every single head turned around and once again, everybody froze, the vision of seeing such a good and strong Doctor bleeding out from her leg probably shocking them. Screams started to be heard, some of them asking if it was really you, others wondering what had happened. In the blink of an eye, Dr. Abbott appeared, putting himself on the other side of Robby.

“Hello, Dr. Abbott. I missed you pleasure of your company.” You words were blurred since you could barely focus on anything else that wasn’t your own pain. You noticed how they put you in one of the rooms, the place quickly became a mess of people getting out and in. When they moved you to the table, you cried in pain, the adrenaline rubbing off and the pain going up.

“PUSH SOME MORPHINE IN!” Dr. Robby screamed, tearing your pants apart and you observed how blood started to get out of the wound, probably meaning that the bullet had moved and tear an artery or vein. “WHEN DID YOU APPLY THE TOURNIQUET?!” He screamed, glancing at you and you didn’t understand the question, only being able to look at your own leg.

“Oh God. Am I going to lose my leg?” You asked, totally forgetting that you were a Doctor. Then, you glanced at Dr. Abbott. “Does that mean I can start to say that I’m your daughter? You know, we would be the duo father-daughter-with-one-leg-less.” You laughed at your own joke, until they grabbed your leg, and you screamed out of pure pain.

“(Y/N) for fucks sake, answer his question. Why the hell isn’t the morphine kicking in?!” Now that you have noticed, Dr. Abbott, just like Robby, looked sick. His features were tight, but there was a slight shaking that told you he was definitely more than concerned. Probably angry too, looking at his eyebrows furrowed. You had never heard him scream in such a desperate tone, always the one in control of his emotions, especially in the ER.

“Around 6:10? I don’t know.” You finally replied.

“Oh God, is that (Y/N)?!” You heard a female voice, probably Dr. McKay, shout, but you couldn��t pay attention, everything already becoming too hazy, probably due to the morphine.

“Will I stop being your favorite if I indeed lose my leg?” You asked Dr. Abbott and Dr. Robby with a weak voice, tilting softly your head to the side and smiling at them. You heard how, to your surprise, Robby let out a chuckle.

“I don’t think there is anything you can do to stop being our favorite, (Y/N).” Robby replied and a second later, he screamed for people to bring him more pads and those words made your smile bigger.

“Oh, so you admit it! I’m your favorite.” You felt giddy and weirdly satisfied. You had always heard the nurses and other Doctors saying it, but they had never said it out loud, probably avoid creating a problem playing favorites.

“Anyone who pays attention for two fucking seconds can guess who our favorite is, kid.” Dr. Abbott mumbled and those were the last words you heard before darkness took over.

»»————-　🩺　————-««

Feeling your entire body heavy, you began to slowly wake up, blinking and trying to get use to the room where you were. It took some seconds for you to recognize that it was a hospital room and a moment later, all the memories from the festival came back.

“(Y/N)?” You turned your head to your right, where the voice was coming from and you quickly recognized that Dana was the one talking to you. A small smile formed in your face.

“Hey Dana.” Your voice was weak, barely a whisper and after hearing you, she brought to you a glass of water that you immediately drank in one setting. Gods, you didn’t realize you were this thirsty.

“Hi, kid. You don’t know how glad I’m to see you awake. Wait a minute, I will bring Robby and Abbott.” She squeezed your hands once and got up, leaving, thing that made you feel weirdly uneasy. You didn’t want to be alone, the memories of the shooting too fucking fresh. Yes, you were an Emergency Medic, but it didn’t make it easier. Not knowing what had happened to all of them made it worse.

Thankfully, Dana didn’t lie about the minute, because you didn’t even have the time to process that she was back with the two Doctors at her back. Once they saw you awake, Dr. Robby thrown himself in the closest chair, rubbing his face harshly with one of his hands, probably feeling the stress leaving his body. Dr. Abbott didn’t sit down, he just walked to one of your sides and took you by the wrist, unconsciously feeling your pulse. Once he did, he blindly grabbed a chair and sat down exactly where he was.

“(Y/N), how are you feeling? Any dizziness, pain, discomfort?” He asked, all professional, because you at the moment were a fucking patience. You hated it, but remembering how worried they were, you answered the questions.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache, but I think it’s because the memories came back way too fast.” They both let out a sigh full of relief at this. Yet, you didn’t stay quiet for long. “Am I losing my leg?” You asked, your voice shaking a bit and your heart tightened with fear. You hadn’t even begun to think about how your life would change it that was a case, and Gods knew you were horrible with changes, this would throw your life out of balance for a long time.

To your relief, though, Dr. Abbott quickly shook his head.

“No, (Y/N), don’t worry, you won’t lose your leg. The injury, thankfully, wasn’t that bad. You lost a lot of blood, and we had to do surgery to get the bullet out, but there isn’t permanent damage. The recovery will take time, I won’t lie to you, but you will be fine.” Your tense shoulders relaxed, feeling how the tension you were feeling practically since you were shot left your body. You felt like you were about to cry, thing that was horrifying because you despised crying publicly, but God, you had been under so much stress and pressure you hadn’t even realize it had gotten this bad.

“Thank you.” You whispered, gulping, trying to easy down the know in your throat and both Doctors smiled at you. Before they could say anything else, though, Dr. McKay, Dr. Shen and Dr. Ellis rushed in, both of them smiling at the sight of you awake and fine. “Hey girls and Shen. Missed me?” Dr. McKay let out a chuckle, coming closer and grabbing one of your hands, smiling at you.

“It’s really good to see you alright, kid.” Said, her voice trembling a bit and you smiled, nodding. Dr. Ellis peeked from Dr. McKay’s back.

“Yes, you have no clue how good it really is, (Y/N). We were worried sick.”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, never do that shit again.” Dr. Shen also spoke, his usually calmness behavior clearly gone, replaced by a man who had been clearly under tons of stress over the last hours.

After that, all three of them stayed in the back of the room, probably needing some more time to process the fact that you were truly okey.

“(Y/N), do you have any idea how many people you saved out there?” Dr. Robby started to talk, looking straight at you, his voice soft and you gulped but shook your head.

“No, not really. I lost count at the third tourniquet I did.” You grimaced, knowing that wasn’t a positive thing. Staying aware of the patients you had assisted was one of the most important things in such a rush place like the ER, but God, some images were so blurry. If they left you some time, you could probably write a full report about every single person you had helped, but right now, thinking that much was not easy.

“You helped about twenty-five people, (Y/N). Twenty-five whiles being injured from a bullet wound. Have you got any idea how crazy that is?” You quickly blushed, biting your lips.

“I didn’t realize they were that many. I was just functioning on a high level of adrenaline.” Dr. Robby got up and walked closer to you, a proud smile on his face.

“Most of them wouldn’t have made it without you helping them first, kid. You did an amazing job out there. To say that I’m damn proud wouldn’t even begun to cover it.” You let yourself smile, blinking some tears away. Damn, you were too sensitive today.

“Thanks, Robby.” You softly replied and then, Dr. Abbott spoke.

“We will talk later about the fact that you were running around with such injury in your thigh knowing how dangerous that is, but Robby is right, kid. You were the best of us. You reacted fast, assessed every situation with a perfect precision and even calmed down the people that were with the injured ones. You should be as proud of yourself as we feel.” Alright, with those words, without being to avoid it, a tear left you left eye. You didn’t know how bad you needed them to tell you this, to validate the horrible things you had to do. And it wasn’t normal to hear Dr. Abbott throw this many praises, you will definitely remember those words forever.

“Did all the Reds made it? There was this white guy with a bullet in his stomach and this kid I applied CPR to. Are they alright?” You couldn’t help yourself. After all, how could you? They were your patients first.

“Yes, (Y/N), every single patient that made it here with a color already assigned are alright. You saved me a lot of time doing that, kid. Seriously. Some of them are already awake and asking for you.” Dr. Shen replied this time, smiling at you and you let out a loud sigh, fully relaxing for the first time in the entire fucking day.

“We told you, you did a perfect job. None could have done it better than you. That’s why you are the damn fucking best.” Dana told you, putting a hand in your face and caressing it softly and you leaned into her touch, needing this type of comfort after going through that horrible experience.

Then, you realized that this was the first day of those interns you had met earlier, and you gasped.

“Oh God, are the interns alright? Mass casualties in your first day can’t be fucking easy, poor kids.” Dr. Ellis snorted, shaking her head.

“Of course you are worried about them.” You grimaced. Yeah, you couldn’t help yourself with the usual concern you felt towards practically everybody, even some interns you had barely met a few hours ago.

“Yes, kid, they are alright. A bit shaken up, but they truly did great. Took me by surprise, actually.” Dr. Robby replied, sighing and you smirked.

“How do you always get the best ones? Do you have some kind of contract we don’t know about?” Laughs were heard around the room, thing that was truly great after such a hard day.

“You have no idea how much we missed today, (Y/N).” Dr. Robby said and you batted a hand in his direction.

“Don’t worry, I’m here now and I won’t be leaving any time soon.” Then, you noticed that there was one person missing. “Hey, where’s Dr. Langdon? I want to see that asshole face.” You practically felt how a weird tension lifted in the room at your innocent question, and you frowned. What had you lost here?

“He had to leave early family emergency. We will tell him that you are well and asking about him, don’t worry.” Dr. Robby reply was bear and you pouted but didn’t ask further, wanting this tension to go away.

»»————-　🩺　————-««

Two days later, you were still in the hospital. You were getting better; tomorrow, you started the long path of being able to walk normally again. It wasn’t going to be pretty and since you were a pretty impatient person, it would probably be even worse for you, but you were determined. You needed to get back to your feet to get back to your job, the thing you loved the most in life.

Dr. King had been assigned to you, the new R2 and even if you had met her two days ago, she had already become one of your favorite people in the entire hospital. She was one of the few that didn’t treat you like you were broken, and you liked her bluntness.

Right now, you were playing some cards game called go fish, since she told you she needed a break after treating a loud lady who screamed way too many times at her. You were glad she came here, feeling good at the fact that she found the room you were safe. Nevertheless, once you were a couple of minutes in the game, somebody knocked the door. You turned your head around and saw Dr. Robby at the door.

“Hey there, Dr. Robby.” You said, dedicating him a soft smile and he nodded. You noticed though, how behind him, there were some people waiting to enter the room and you frowned, glancing at him, confused.

“So, (Y/N), there are some people here that want to meet you. Can they come in?” You finally realized where this was going, and you suddenly got nervous. You never did well when patients thanked you, feeling like you were just doing your job, but you also knew that they probably needed this as some kind of closure, so, you nodded. Then, you glanced at Dr. King and leaned in her direction.

“Hey, I think things might also get a bit loud here. Nothing too bad, but I don’t want to overwhelm you further.” The woman glanced at the door, widening her eyes probably seeing the amount of people out there and she blinked a couple of times before nodding.

“Okey, um, I will see you later, Dr. (Y/N)” She got up and awkwardly said goodbye with one of her hands, thing that made you smile.

“Bye, Dr. King. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do out here!” You replied, lifting your thumbs up and the other woman turned around, frowning and tilting her face.

“There are many things you can do out there that I legally can’t do, Dr. (Y/N), like…” Then she quiet down and smiled, shaking her head. “It was another joke, right?” She asked and you winked an eye in her direction. She chuckled but left the room, saying a last goodbye.

Robby looked at you and then at the direction where Dr. King had left.

“You haven’t known her for two days and you already adopted her?” He asked, raising his eyebrows and you lifted your shoulders.

“What can I say? I really like her, Robby. I will bribe some nurses to get her in my shifts.” He fondly shook his head, but then, he sighed and pointed at the door.

“Well, Dr. (Y/N), I have here some of the people you saved. They wanted to meet you, so, here they are.” After he finished talking, people started to fly in, and you lost count after the ninth person entered. You knew all of them, though. Some of them were victims you had helped, others family that were in the scene. The image of all of them together made you a bit shaky, but it also made you feel warm. You had saved a lot of their lives.

“Hi, Dr. (YN), I’m Marie Bush. My mom is Olive Bush. You saved her life with the tourniquet in her arm, the doctors told me she wouldn’t have made it without it. I can’t even begin to tell you how thankful I am.” The daughter you remembered pretty well started. She was white, brunette and had some pretty blue eyes. She had walked closer and had stretched her hand in your direction, but froze, not really knowing what to do. You smiled at her and took her hand into yours, squeezing softly.

“Hello Marie. You already know, but I’m Dr. (Y/N). You can just call me Y/N, though. I’m really glad to hear that your mother is alright. Send her my regards.” And just like the young woman, all of them have their thanks to you. You spent your whole day hearing names, learning personal stories and feeling so much greatness towards you it was overwhelming. You had saved people with children, people with perfect lives and amazing careers.

You haven’t felt this proud about yourself in a long time.

#the pitt #the pitt x reader #the pitt x you #dr robinavitch #michael robinavitch #the pitt hbo #dr abbott #female reader

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pupyuj · 8 months ago

Text

→ “how you get the girl.” || naoi rei x reader fic.

— a stupid and insensitive prank leads to your adorable girlfriend turning into a lovesick pervert when she gets drugged during one of your friends’ party…

word count: 7.6k.

dynamic: dom!bottom!naoi rei x sub!top!reader.

warnings: drugging, dubcon, drunk sex, non-consensual use of drugs, emotional manipulation, blood (mild), praises, fingering, anal, use of strap-on (often referred to as a cock), overstimulation.

requested?: nope.

a/n: UMMMM HIIII???? quick note, since i have like two more yuj requests to put out, i figured you guys might use a little breath of fresh air with this surprise rei fic hehehuehe 😈😈 keep the warnings in mind everyone! reibear's a bit... crazy here 😭 in fact, a lot of the fics coming up from me actually venture a lot into dark content, or at least near it, so let us all tread with caution :] ANYWAY this is my 1,000th post! i wanted to make it special so that's why i've been missing for like a month (omg...) bcs i wanted to make sure i came out with something good LMAO sorry for going non-verbal everyoneee 😭😭

you were hoping that this was the last time that you’ll ever go to one of ahn yujin’s parties.

parties weren’t exactly up your alley to begin with, but something about the ones that the unnecessarily popular basketball captain hosts makes it all so much more troublesome than a normal college party. the bass of the speakers jammed through your skull, enough to annoy you with a painful migraine. the drinks were bland, only amateur party-goers and people who are too far gone to have decent taste would like it. all those who were invited are a mixed bag of strange, unpleasant, snobby, shady, and try-hard individuals who had nothing better to do on a saturday evening.

despite it all though, you were having the best time of your life.

perhaps you were the one that was too far gone to bother to try and over analyze every aspect of ahn yujin’s party. maybe it was the lights, the hot air, the music, and the way your girlfriend, rei, pulled you around the crowd as you danced. oh, naoi rei—she looks so beautiful under the purple, blue, and green neon lights. eyes only slightly unfocused due to being mildly intoxicated, but she was still looking at you. she wears a wide smile, the same one that makes you fall in love with her over and over again, as she pulls you into her.

“i love you, (y/n).” she whispers before kissing your cheek. rei was giggling, somehow surprised at her sudden bravery. she was holding a half-empty cup with one hand and had her other arm around your neck, your arms wrapped loosely around her waist, pulling her closer until her lips were a mere kissing distance. you don’t waste any time, nor did you bother to care about the fact that the two of you were surrounded by people—you kissed rei, relishing in the taste of both alcohol and peaches on her lips. rei melts into you, smiling into the kiss, feeling her chest get warm when she feels you tighten your hold on her.

you feel her fingers thread your locks as you kiss her, that feeling of comfort and security making you release the tension on your shoulders and get even more lost in the moment. you knew that a handful of people were watching the two of you. maybe they were even taking pictures and videos of this rare scene of the kind, sickeningly sweet fashion major and the stoic but soft volleyball vice-captain shamelessly showing off their affection for one another. but really, you didn’t care. hell, some people have done worse in ahn yujin’s previous parties—yujin herself included. so you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, ignoring the pool forming in between your legs when you hear the slightest bits of your girlfriend’s addicting moans.

rei nearly drops the cup she was holding when you slid your tongue past her lips. it seems neither she minded putting on a spectacle for everyone to see: allowing you to explore her mouth with your tongue, slide your hand underneath her cotton sweatshirt and feel her stomach, and even whimpering so cutely when you grabbed her ass with your other hand. shit, if you were completely out of your senses you probably would’ve fucked her right there! she was just so perfect in your eyes… and for once in your years of dating, you wanted to show everyone just how flawless naoi rei really was and not just keep her for yourself.

your hand travels further down, stopping right on the belt hoops on her jeans. rei wanted you to lose your composure, wanted you to touch her in front of your friends and schoolmates, wanted to show everyone how good you can make her feel, and you knew all of this by the way she moved closer to you, practically begging for you to keep going despite the alarming rate of people finding themselves staring at the two of you. you decided to tease her, putting your hand on her thighs instead and slowly moving it upwards so painfully slowly. rei whines and softly nibbles on your lips in retaliation. cute.

unbeknownst to the two of you, someone slips a strange-looking pill in rei’s drink. rei had been too busy returning your kisses to spot the person, who snickered as he walked off with his friends. somehow, you heard them, breaking the kiss to look behind you. they turned to a corner out of your sight, but you had a feeling they did something.

“what’s wrong?” rei asked in heaving breaths. you don’t answer her, squinting and trying to spot the strange group of guys that just walked by but failing to do so. rei gently takes your chin and turns your head, her eyes locked onto your lips. both affection and desire were evident in her eyes; she adored you dearly, but fuck, she needed you so bad. “i was having fun…” she mumbled, once again leaning closer in hopes of getting you to kiss her again. but all you did was laugh, give her lips a peck before pulling her out of the big crowd in the living room, much to her dismay.

rei pouts, but doesn’t complain as she allows you to tug her towards the kitchen. rei chugs down the rest of her drink, eyes lighting up at the sight of a few more bottles sitting quietly at yujin’s kitchen island as if they were waiting just for her! you briefly looked over your shoulder, spotting your adorable girlfriend eyeing the bottles of alcohol.

“i think you’ve had enough, baby. let’s get you some water.”

in the kitchen were some of your friends: the hostess yujin, that one senior from the dance department son hyeju, rei’s close friend from the music theory department jang yeeun, and rei’s fellow fashion major seol yoona. this might possibly be the most random assortment of your big and forever growing friend group but it was much better than the heap of strangers (emphasis on strange) in the living room. yujin was drunk out of her mind—a rare occasion considering that she’s always busy stopping everyone from ruining her house during her parties to even get a sip. she must be upset about something, and judging by how she begrudgingly stared at the ‘school muse’ jang wonyoung from across the room… yeah, she was definitely going through it.

it was nothing a good hate-fucking would fix, though. you know those two well enough to predict how their night’s going to go.

poor awkward hyeju was desperately trying to stop yujin from downing an entire bottle while simultaneously talking to someone on the phone. her girlfriend, possibly. now that you think about it, it was really strange not to see park chaewon right by hyeju’s side. they were usually inseparable and chaewon was never the type to miss a messy ass party like this one; it was practically brimming with gossip! and she would’ve loved that show you and rei put on earlier! not far from yujin and hyeju were yeeun and yoona who talked casually, although you didn’t miss that glint of interest for each other in their eyes. seems like they had been drinking too. great!

you weren’t here to talk to any of them, however. you were here to sober your girlfriend up and take her home before she goes completely off the rails. you grabbed a clean cup from a pile and filled it up with water, all while rei clung to your side, whining and whispering horny nonsense in your ear that you tuned out to save everybody from seeing you fuck your girlfriend over your best friend’s kitchen counter. you ignored the way her breath fanned across your neck and gave you chills down your spine, ignored her arm wrapped around your waist and her hand impatiently squeezing your hip, ignored how her other hand was softly tugging on the waistband of your skirt—all of them being near-impossible tasks. the only reason you got to hold back your urges was because of your suspicions: has rei always been this… needy when drunk?

being her girlfriend of a few years now, you knew that the answer was a hard no. yes, rei could never hold her alcohol well and thus always ended up getting wasted by the end of every party or friend gathering but she was never so horny! most of the time when she’s drunk, she just gets very giggly and is a hundred times more ticklish than when she’s sober. and even when she’s in her right mind and she wants to have sex, she wouldn’t be like this. you turned your head to get a good look at your girlfriend’s face. rei gives you a lazy smile, tilting her head slightly as she leaned close to hopefully kiss your lips but you managed to dodge her, making her whine cutely. her cheeks were flushed, beads of sweat ran down her neck, and her pupils were dilated but you knew that was because she was wasted as fuck.

perhaps it was just a bad case of rei being both drunk and horny at the same time. nevermind the reason for her strange behavior—you have to get her home so she can calm down and get some sleep!

“take a sip of this, rei-yah. you’ve been drinking nothing but alcohol and soda all night.” you handed your girlfriend a cup of water before beckoning hyeju over. yujin had her back leaning against a countertop while she grumbles grumpily, still glaring at wonyoung (who was having the time of her life having all of yujin’s stupid attention for herself). hyeju tells yujin to ‘stay still’ and skips over to where you and rei were standing, making a weird face when she saw how rei had started leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

“hyeju, can you give us a ride home? i think you’re the only sober person in this house…” you asked. she looked like she was going to refuse as she had her hands full taking care of yujin, but you were somewhat correct with hyeju being the only soul in this joint that had any sense in her mind. plus, yoona and yeeun were not totally wasted yet. they can probably watch over yujin for fifteen minutes! and so hyeju agrees, nodding her head towards the door and grabbing her keys from a secret corner in one of the cupboards reserved only for yujin and her closest friends (aka, you lot).

“we’re going home? you’re no fun, baby…” rei whines loudly as you squeezed both of yourselves out of the crowd. she was still very touchy, she couldn’t keep her hands off of you and at one point, even grabbed your ass from under your skirt and laughed when you yelped slightly.

“taking care of a drunk you isn’t usually like babysitting a toddler,” you mumbled after having to gently push her out of the door so she wouldn’t be saying goodbye to every living being she sees in that house. immediately after you slammed the door shut, rei practically lunged at you and tried to kiss you but you were quick to move away. “what’s up with you, love?” you asked, giggling because rei now had this cute pout on her face.

“i wanna kiss you… please, let me kiss you?” ah, you can’t really refuse her when she asks so nicely… and since the two of you were now out of view from everyone, well, you had no problem pulling her in by her sleeve and putting your lips on hers once again. this kiss was a lot softer than what you shared in yujin’s living room; your lips moved in sync instead of whatever near-slobbering mess that was going on earlier. your hands rested on her hips while she had her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you closer ever so often to deepen the kiss further until your chests were touching and she could put her hands down on your shoulders.

it was a kiss so magical that people could probably picture cartoon birds and butterflies flying around your figures right about now. as annoyed as you always get in yujin’s parties, you had to admit that you badly needed this one. you and rei, actually. both of you have been swamped with your respective coursework that neither of you could find the time to enjoy doing anything else together, but thankfully, yujin had both of your backs and decided to drag you out of your houses to live life a little. so yeah, perhaps now it makes sense why you just so happened to get buzzed enough to be enjoying your crazy friend’s party!

and now a cute, drunken try-to-sleep session would be a fitting end to this amazing day… but you’ll soon find out that the night was going to be much, much longer than you anticipated.

“do you gay bitches want to go home or should i let you fuck on our friend’s porch?” hyeju’s voice cuts through the pleasant silence and takes both you and rei out of your shared wonderland. you laugh and start tugging rei towards her car while rei pouts, only mildly annoyed that your moment was cut short. and to nobody’s surprise, rei was all over you in the backseat of hyeju’s car too! not even bothering to put her seatbelt on as she was just… hugging your waist and keeping you extra close to her. at this point, you decided to not ask any more questions and just allowed rei to do whatever she wants. once hyeju took a glance at her rearview mirror and got a glimpse of rei and her big eyes shooting arrows and hearts at you, she scoffed and turned the music up before pulling out of her parking spot.

soon enough, yujin’s house was a dot in the distance. rei was mumbling lovesick nonsense while you stared out the window, blankly watching as the car passed one house after another. rei had insisted hyeju to drive both of you to her house where the two of you would be alone. apparently her roommate was sleeping over at her boyfriend’s house and was gone for the night, it was perfect! about a few minutes into the ride, rei not-so-discreetly puts your hand on her thigh, giggling when you gave her a look since you knew exactly what she was doing. but she persists on acting innocent, even while she slowly drags your hand upward so it was closer to that treasure in between her thighs.

when you try to pull your hand away, rei suddenly holds it in place with an iron grip. you don’t hear what she says over hyeju’s music, and your lack of response to whatever she just said only made her even braver. eventually, your hand was buried deep in between her thighs and rei was slowly grinding against it, letting out the softest moans while you struggled to remove yourself from her hold. it was a miracle that hyeju wasn’t seeing any of this, and for rei that was a fucking blessing because all she wanted was to feel you touching her. to make matters worse, rei grabs a fistful of your top and closes the distance between the two of you, forcibly making you kiss and touch her at the same time.

you did not like this at all. before you left yujin’s house, you thought that perhaps rei was too drunk on her feelings and that was why she felt especially touchy… but this was different. you were too buzzed and exhausted to fight back, and being reminded that you might’ve set something off in her brain by kissing her in front of a crowd earlier made you think that perhaps you were responsible for rei’s behavior. maybe she thinks she’s just making it even; you kissed and touched her while there were eyes on the two of you, it’s only fair if she does it too! still, you pull away from rei’s lips and place your hand on her shoulder to stop her from diving back in.

“stop. what is wrong with you?”

you definitely said that in a harsher tone than intended. rei looked both offended and hurt. she moves away from you, pushing your hand away and completely refusing to look at you. baffled, you stared at her in confusion. seriously, what the fuck did she drink that made her like this? you ought to question yujin about the alcohol she stores in her cabinets because any trace of your sweet angel naoi rei was nowhere to be found at the moment. and now the rest of the ride was awkward, with rei angrily looking out the window and you occasionally checking if she was finally going to say something to you so neither of you would go to sleep angry.

hyeju was blissfully unaware of all of this. she was nodding her head to her music and even answered a short call from chaewon, who asked her to pick up food she ordered from a mexican restaurant so she would have something to snack on for the night. you were worried that rei might ask hyeju to send you away to your own house. of course you would have refused since rei was in no condition to be walking around her home alone, but the idea that your girlfriend was mad at you to the point where she can’t even stand to be with you for a night breaks your heart. what could you even do to cheer her up? give her what she wants? you didn’t exactly have the energy for that… and after all the antics she pulled, you can’t imagine getting into the mood now.

ugh. this was making your head hurt, as if the alcohol wasn’t doing a good enough job of that.

“home sweet ho—”

rei doesn’t let hyeju finish and leaves the car without another word, stomping towards her front porch while fishing for her keys in her purse. hyeju turns her head at you, confused, and you sighed. “d-don’t worry about it, hyeju. thanks for driving us. take care of the other girls, okay?” you left the car and followed after your girlfriend who was struggling to open the door.

“do you need help?” you asked softly. rei scoffed, and it really hurt. she rarely gets angry at you. in fact, this might be the first time so frankly, you have no fucking idea how to handle it.

rei, without even sparing you a glance, finally hears the lock click open and grabs the doorknob, “no.” and then she’s gone.

maybe the alcohol was making you a bit emotional for no reason, but you felt like crying right there. while you took off your shoes, you wondered just how you can resolve this with as little yelling as possible. a loud slamming of a door makes you flinch—rei has now officially holed herself up in her room. shit, were you going to have to sleep on the couch? that would be a nightmare. you wouldn’t want rei’s roommate to come home to a pitiful sight such as you.

rei sure did like making a spectacle when she’s angry. you could hear her stomping around in her bedroom, you were both worried and scared. you wanted to help her just in case she was having a rough time walking around, being wasted and all, but what if she yells at you? what if you only make her even more angry? oh, please! surely she can be an adult about it! no matter how drunk she was!

right?

that was what you were counting on when you stood in front of her bedroom door with two mugs filled with fresh, cold water for the two of you. once it was quiet, you spoke. “rei? can i come in?” you didn’t hear words, but at least she responded with a hum. you balanced the two mugs with one hand as best as you could while opening the door—and there, on the edge of her bed, you saw your girlfriend sitting with the best glare she could muster. as cute as she looked, you held back on teasing her and instead, sat the two mugs down on the bedside table and sat beside her.

she wasn’t looking at you—a bad sign, but still something you can work around. although you really didn’t know what to do. because once again, rei has never gotten angry with you and people in general rarely get angry with you. as stingy as you sometimes can be, you truly hated confrontation, you hated yelling, and hurtful words thrown towards you cut deeper than any knife could. and rei should know that as your soft-spoken, gentle, and empathetic lover. but maybe she was too drunk to remember any of that since she was not at all budging.

but after a few minutes, rei does speak. in a tone you’ve never heard before.

“i don’t like the way you acted tonight, (y/n).”

normally, on a day where you weren’t buzzed and already felt frustrated, you would try to understand where she was coming from but you were already short of patience. “m-me? what did i even do?” you tried to meet her eyes but she was adamant on avoiding yours.

“wow.” rei scoffs, feigning being entertained by your cluelessness.

“i’m serious. i don’t know what i did to warrant your pettiness like this—”

“really? okay, let’s jog your memory a bit,” rei stands up and finally looks at you. you felt small underneath her displeased gaze. “you kissed me, you touched me, in front of however many fucking people there was in yujin’s acidic ass living room but i can’t kiss you and touch you when we’re alone with our one friend who wasn’t even looking at us? don’t you think that’s a little unfair?” she puts a finger up every time she makes a point and if you didn’t feel so hounded, you would have defended yourself!

but oh, god. rei rarely swears, and more rarely towards you! you felt the burning in the back of your eyes come before you could choke out the only words you can say at the moment. “i’m sorry…” you felt so pathetic. and if you didn’t break eye contact to blink away your tears and pretended to not feel so pressured, you would have seen how your girlfriend’s eyes shined with amusement.

“and what’s your reason? you were drunk and got carried away? would you let my actions slide if i gave you that same excuse?” any answer you intended to blurt out gets stuck in your throat. not to mention that it was too hard to think properly when your heart hammered right against your ribcage with how awful you felt about getting yelled at by your normally sweet girlfriend. was that really how much you fucked up in that car?

“i didn’t m-mean… to make you feel like this, rei-yah. i just didn’t want to do that in front of hyeju, of all people.” was your defense even making any sense? you had no fucking idea.

“but you would have loved to make a public porno with multiple pairs of eyes watching us. watching me. is that it?”

your heart drops at her statement, “no! no, of course not! that wasn’t going to go anywhere near that! i… i’m really sorry…” okay, now you were looking too pitiful to be helped at all. your eyes were filled to the brim with tears you didn’t even bother to pretend you didn’t have this time, your lips quivered horribly, and your voice shook so much you might as well be uncontrollably sobbing on the floor. and then you finally couldn’t hold your tears back and let them fall, along with your head due to the sheer embarrassment and shame that you felt.

but what would have been the alternative action to do in that car? discreetly fuck your girlfriend while being merely minutes away from your destination with your very-much-not-deaf-or-blind friend driving you there? but why is it that you felt like the outcome of that would have been so much better than this one? maybe rei wouldn’t have been yelling at you then. hyeju would probably never look at either of you in the eye ever again but at least you and rei would probably be drunkenly giggling about it in the very same bed you were crying on rather than fighting.

your tears fell on the carpet underneath rei’s bed until you felt your eyes leaving the floor and meeting rei’s own once again. although this time, she seemed to be back to being the loving girlfriend you always knew. rei held your face in her hands and smiled softly at you, “i can forgive you… you can make it up to me, don’t worry.” her feather-light touch patches up the metaphorical cuts her words have made on your skin and each time she runs her thumb across your cheek to wipe your tears away, the more the wounds heal.

rei places a kiss on the crown of your head, on your forehead, your nose, and she smiles at how your eyes flutter to a close as you wait for her lips. she pushes your hair back, and you willfully ignore how she traps your thigh in between her legs before putting your hands on her hips. you lean closer as you’ve grown impatient—you really did believe that a kiss can seal everything up so the two of you can go to sleep with good feelings.

you didn’t have to wait for too long to get what you badly wanted at least; rei wraps her lips around yours, finally giving you the usual warmth you felt around her and getting rid of the coldness her anger struck within you. but even amidst the familiarity of it all, rei did new things that made butterflies flutter inside your stomach but also fill your head with uncertainty. she had a hand tightly wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you in place as her kisses grew deeper and hungrier. her other hand traced the hem of your cropped blouse, until she slid her fingers underneath and copped a feel of your breast.

despite feeling uneasy, you allowed rei to touch you. rei’s lips were nothing short of hypnotizing, and soon enough you were too lost in the kiss to even notice how she had unbuttoned her jeans, straddle your lap and started slowly guiding your hand downwards her crotch. she lips her tongue in between your lips as a means of distracting you even further, drinking in your moans and whines at the way she squeezes your breasts. your free hand cupped her ass, pulling her closer and even smiling at how cute her whimper sounded. rei leans into you and you slowly fall back on the bed; that was where you finally felt her wetness on your fingertips.

rei gasps as she grinds against your hand. she didn’t seem to care that you were completely still, or that you had your eyes wide open. as wrong as it felt, you kept on watching her, figuring out if this was all truly just the alcohol’s influence or perhaps rei had chosen to act out on her own. you kept rewinding the day in your head in hopes of remembering if there was something that rei might have consumed that made her so… strange, but to no avail. you were with rei from the moment you and yujin picked her up from this very same house and drove back to yujin’s own, and every second that you were with rei she was no different than she usually was with you.

and so you were left with more questions than answers.

(who knows what you would’ve done if you actually knew what happened from the jump? the night would’ve ended very, very differently. anybody who toyed with your girlfriend was always on the receiving end of a nose-breaking, teeth-rattling, and brain-shattering punch in the face. but unfortunately, you will never know just what exactly occurred in that house.)

rei separates from your lips with a smack and slips out of her sweatshirt, still grinding on your hand while you try to ignore that needy buzz on your core because you really weren’t in the mood for any of this. especially after what just occurred? no! you needed cuddles, a bad netflix movie, and some soft, light kisses! it frustrated you how rei couldn’t see that, but then again how could she? even when you made little to no effort to move your hand that was trapped in between her legs, you still made her feel so good.

if anything, rei blames you for clouding her head with so many naughty thoughts. did you have to look so pretty today? did you have to wear that skirt, that blouse, and do your hair that way? she couldn’t believe she didn’t take the time to appreciate you way earlier before yujin turned off all the lights in her house—but at least she has you all for herself now. and she wasn’t going to let you go anywhere else.

“r-rei… i don’t think we should do this toni—mmn…” your complaints were drowned by her deep kisses and a thrust of rei’s hips towards your hand and feeling her slick folds through the fabric of her panties unlocks something primal in you, and you started rubbing your fingers against rei’s wet, needy cunt, eliciting a muffled moan out of her. you put your free hand on her thigh, keeping her hips steady as you started pleasuring rei’s sensitive clit.

as soon as rei unclasped her bra and threw it elsewhere, she flipped your position so that you would finally be on top of her just like she always wanted. the two of slowly moved upwards towards the bed while still engaged in a tight liplock and your hands were starting to do everything that rei fucking wished for. you pulled her jeans off and then her panties quickly after. while you slowly trace her folds with your fingertips, rei slightly parts from your lips and sighs dreamily when you pressed your thumb against her throbbing clit.

“mhnn… you must be really sorry, huh, baby…?” she asked. she took pride in the guilty look on your face—she might be wasted beyond saving but that was an expression of yours she’ll definitely remember for nights to come. “oh… ohh.. ah—good girl… that’s i-it…” rei lays her head back on the pillows when she feels you inserting two fingers inside her cunt. pure bliss was what she felt when you started slowly pumping your fingers in and out of her pussy. her endless praises, gasps, and moans blessed your ears, driving your already-hazed mind into a new kind of frenzy, making you increase your pace.

rei’s hold around your neck tightens at the same time, “good…! f-fuck… oh, fuck…! you’re s-so good, babygirl…” her moans only get louder when you tilt your head and start kissing down her perfect neck, leaving countless marks to bloom overnight. she claws at your shoulder when you wrap your warm mouth around her hard nipples while simultaneously adding another finger inside of her. “yes..! yes, yes… more, (y/n)-ah…!” you whined at the sound of your name on her lips—rei always made it sound so fucking beautiful, especially during an intimate time such as this.

“kiss me, baby… i need y—hmn…” she didn’t have to ask you twice. rei cups your jaw, using her thumb to part your lips and slide her tongue inside your mouth. with her tongue expertly exploring every nook and cranny of your mouth, you failed to notice how she removes her hand from your jaw and snuck it underneath the pillow below her head, and she pulls something from under it. a pretty collar decorated with black bows just for you.

it wasn’t until you heard a click when you finally opened your eyes and noticed that rei now has you on a leash. quite fucking literally.

you leaned back, abruptly stopping all of your movements as you stared at your sneering girlfriend with troubled, panicked eyes. “w-wha… what are you up to?” you don’t get an answer to your question of course. all you got was a harsh tug on the leash and a painful kiss from rei. one that was full of harsh bites that made your lips bleed, but apparently rei quite liked that seeing as how she was so eager to lick it all up.

you, on the other hand, continued your work despite your stomach turning every time rei inflicted pain with either her lips or her other hand which was seemingly stuck on your arm, digging through your blouse and almost just barely grazing your skin underneath. rei’s walls clenched around your fingers, she starts rocking her hips upwards to meet your thrusts, eager to chase her high along with you.

rei’s voice fills your ears once again, “mmhn..! please, please, darling… make m-me cum.. oh, please…!” god, it was like a fucking dream seeing her like this. you were uneasy—hell, you can even say that this all scared you a bit but fuck, getting to watch your girlfriend come undone because of you was always a welcome sight. her hips stutter as she creams all over your fingers, and you watch while she does so. her warm cum stains your once-spotless hand but you were more than happy to clean it up yourself!

you pulled out your fingers as soon as rei was done, licking and sucking on them one by one. you weren’t aware of it since your mind was a fucking mess but rei intently stared at you, confused as to how you looked fucked out when she was the one who just hit an orgasm so good she started babbling nonsense in her native language. and gosh… seeing your hair and makeup all messed up now, and your blouse all wrinkled and your skirt in disarray… rei just can’t help but want more… so much more.

rei grabs yet another thing from under her pillows. this time, it was a strap. your favorite one to use on her actually—a shiny, hot pink one with the plastic cock being at least six and a half inches long. rei sits up and pulls on your leash, forcing you down towards her in a heated kiss. gosh, you can’t believe her sex drive sometimes. and it’s probably not even because you don’t satisfy her, rei just has that much stamina!

(or maybe you were just so damn good at fucking her that she can’t get enough!)

still though, you return the kiss, going as far as to take off your blouse just to feel rei’s skin against yours. without detection, rei somehow managed to attach the strap to your hips before you could even think of rejecting her requests to put it on. you were too occupied with her lips. it didn’t matter how many times you kissed her, you were never going to get sick of her kisses and the way she touches you during them… mostly when she’s in her right mind, of course.

“we’re not done,” she whispers against your lips. then you felt yourself being forced to sit down, and her long nails pierce the skin of your thighs. you winced but you were quickly silenced by her lips again. you can’t do anything with rei being in control like this—you were exhausted, still buzzed, and a bit disoriented from how warm the room has gotten. still, you feel rei unclasping your bra and discarding it elsewhere… and then her lips touch your skin. delicately and slowly, completely contradicting how she had a tight claw on your back. “you… have a lot to make up for, baby.” rei gives you a bite on your shoulder, and you moan pathetically.

“hm. that was nice… do that again.” rei smiles against your skin. she was taunting you. you didn’t even know rei would have a knack for humiliating you until tonight! you grab a fistful of her hair as soon as she caught your nipple with her mouth—that was always one of your biggest weaknesses. and it was so embarrassing how much you were enjoying this now. both being pleasured and hearing rei talk down on you with her quiet, soft voice.

“you’re so perfect, (y/n)…” rei mumbles against your skin after a few minutes. she has made an art piece out of your chest. she always places her marks where no one dares to look. sure, she wouldn’t exactly see them either but the sheer thought of a hickey being there because she put it there… well, you wouldn’t think your girlfriend was as innocent and sweet if she had made you aware of how much it all turns her on in the daily.

eventually, her kisses reached all the way down to your stomach, and it was when she briefly looked up at you with hooded eyes that you figured out what she was going to do next. though it didn’t stop you from getting so flustered that you whimpered for no reason. rei smiles, “that excited, are you?” she traces your inner thigh with a single finger, making goosebumps appear all over your body. she reveled in how you slightly shook. even more so when she takes the tip of the strap in her mouth and you have to bite back a moan.

wow, you didn’t even have a real dick and you were acting like this? you were so cute—rei didn’t think it was possible for you to become even more adorable so far into your relationship… but alas!

you were unsure of what to do, truthfully, but at least you could watch rei give your plastic cock a hell of a blowjob for free. this was the one time you wish you could feel it. rei has always been good with her mouth, after all. from her kisses to the way she sucks and nibbles on your nipples… and of course, when she sits you down in front of you to give you a damn good head. but one thing she did like better than your voice and how quick she can fluster you is… well, like so: you bury both of your hands in her hair and tighten your grip only slightly, then you slowly take control of her pace.

because one way or the other, the dick has to be lubed up and what better way to do it than with her spit?

with your guidance, rei diligently works her mouth all the way to the base of the strap. it looked as if she wanted it to be real too, what with how many times she whispered in your ear about impregnating her in the many times you have used the toy on her before. maybe she was being serious, maybe she was just trying to rile you up; either way, she got what she wanted every time! as you slowly pull her head up and down your length, you meet her halfway with your thrusts, and of course it does something to rei’s brain every time you hit the back of her throat.

but you can only do this for so long before you lose control. you wanted to see rei fall apart underneath you, and you needed to hear her properly throughout it all. it seems like rei has had enough too anyway as she allows you to gently pull her mouth off your cock, smiling sweetly at you as if she didn’t just put on such a show for you merely seconds ago. she even taunts you again, “what? did you miss my kisses…?” she asked in a playful tone while she pulled you closer to her by the leash. your lips automatically connect with hers as you both fall on the bed with you on top.

you could tell with the way her kisses have gotten more desperate and how she has locked her legs around your waist that she was getting increasingly impatient. but being intoxicated has made rei feel just a tad bit more… adventurous tonight. perhaps doing something neither of you have tried before would be a nice and exciting end for the evening! why, rei has put you through such an emotional turmoil this entire night! she might as well boss you around more for the perfect ending. seeing as you eventually succumbed to her manipulation, maybe you were actually into it too. but she would have to ask that when she’s in her right mind… if she remembers.

rei puts her hands on your chest and pushes you back enough to part your lips only slightly. no words were exchanged, only deep, heaving breaths and a smirk from rei before she takes a tight hold of your leash and turns herself around.

“r-rei…?” you asked, completely baffled by the display. and the display being your girlfriend with her ass up and her face slightly turned towards you as she gave you a look. a look that’s supposed to make you do something but you couldn’t think straight because you couldn’t actually believe she was suggesting doing this! with a hard tug, rei was able to get you to force yourself out of your reverie and to actually move. either you could sit there looking like a dumb virgin who’s having sex for the first time and disappoint rei, or you could give her what she wants and what you’ve always secretly fantasized about for a long time.

of course, you’d choose to be a good girl. you’d be crazy not to. especially when rei was waiting so cutely!

another impatient tug from your girlfriend, and you were inside her. she was loud. louder than you have ever heard her before. she was grabbing the sheets underneath, burying her face on the pillows just to shut herself up but the new sensation proved to be too much and too good. so, instead of fighting it, rei allows her voice to fill the room freely. you put your hands on her hips, guiding her towards your cock. perhaps making her work for the pleasure annoyed her, seeing as she pulled harshly on your leash to get you going.

“c-come… ahh..! fuck me, please…” the desperation in her voice makes you work harder, thrust faster. rei kept pulling you down until your chest was touching her back and you were grunting right against her ear. it was getting harder and harder to be aware of what was going on, what with your mind creating a bigger haze in your head the longer this all goes on. rei’s voice was the one thing that kept you wide awake and grounded, along with the feeling of your skin slapping against hers. the dampness eliciting yet another sound that rang in your ears and fueled your desire even more.

you snuck one hand across rei’s stomach, gliding downwards slowly until you were met with her slick folds once again. your fingertips brush against her clit slightly and she arches, now actively chasing after her orgasm. “more…! more, baby…” rei pushes back against you until the entire strap was finally all the way inside her ass. she lets out a sweet moan when you shift your focus to massaging her clit. with how much she was whining now, she must be close. you were dizzy, disoriented even, but you still did your best to please your girlfriend so you thrusted faster.

“r-rei-yah… cum for me…” you managed to whisper against all odds. rei pulled you down again and you increased your pace once again, but it wasn’t even hitting her weak spot that pushed her over the edge. not the tight grip you had on her hip, not the way you pleasured her clit… but a deep, comforting kiss on her shoulder. as soon as your lips connected with her skin, rei let go and it was beautiful. she lost her hold on your leash, grabbing the sheets instead like her life depended on it. you pulled out of her hole before she got any further ideas to take it to the next level and quickly took off the strap, collapsing on the space next to her.

it takes a while for rei to recover but you knew she did as soon as you felt her arms around your waist. you turned to face her and laughed upon seeing a lazy smile on her face, “let’s go to sleep now, okay…?” you said, brushing her bangs away to place a kiss on her forehead. rei barely responded with a hum before snugging close to your chest and looping her leg around yours, too tired to even say “good night”.

despite your best efforts, you weren’t able to fall asleep as fast as your girlfriend did. you stared at her cute face for most of the night, still wondering if rei was really that drunk to turn into a completely different person. you knew that thinking about it would only give you a headache, especially after such an… eventful night. and so you held your girlfriend closer, leaving the problem to be dealt with at a later and much sober time.

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xiakato · 6 months ago

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WENDY - Fatal Attraction (M)

“Would you still think of me the same?”

“Give it a moment of silence and maybe I will,” Her eyes always had you in a trance leaving you breathless. Her eyes felt like they knew everything about you at a glance.

“You want me then you don’t Y/n what kind of love is that?” She asks you as she stands up walking towards you, her heels click against the floor.

“It’s my kind of love,” You tell her as she straddles you, her slender fingers running through your hair.

“Everytime we touch, it feels like you can take everything from me,” Her voice low and sultry, “I get lost in your eyes and then your touch,” Your hands subconsciously run up her thighs. Her breath tickles your neck, feeling her lips graze against your neck. She crackles a small smile as she feels your hands travel higher, “I know you will miss the love I give,” Her tongue licking up your neck, “You won’t forget my name.”

Your hands grab what that can grab of her, leaving her to laugh at your desperation. She spins around pressing her ass against your hardening bulge. Your hands gravitate to her waist, moving one to her neck, pushing her back against you. Your lips find their target, kissing her navel, “You can’t blame me Wendy,” her hands grip onto yours.

“You know that I can't be yours,” She moans as your hand tightens ever so slightly more around her neck, “But you don’t care do you?”

“I’ll make you mine, and mine alone,” You tell her as she starts to move her hips, “You know better than I do that nobody can compare to me,”

“I’m addicted to the way you move across that line,” She bites her lip, she always loved the feeling of being in your arms, “To your danger,” She can’t help but to laugh, “ You’re like a fucking drug to me.”

“I’m only playing with you Wendy,” Your voice softer than you thought it would be as the music plays in the background. She slowly grinds on you, ignoring your words.

“I like the games that you play, I’m in too deep Daddy,” She smiles, “I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to,” her nails digging into your forearms, something that she always loved to do on body, the scars on your back is evidence of that. Pushing her down to her knees, a smile still etched across her face. She kisses your bulge through your pants, “So big,” She bites her lip as her small delicate fingers dance across your shaft. Making short work of your pants, your cock springs out hitting her face, as she smiles more taking in a deep breath as your cock rests on her face, “So thick,” Her lips wrapping around your shaft, Her eyes are fixated with your cock. Her kisses are the best no matter where they are placed. Your hand gravitates to the back of her head, your fingers intertwining with her hair. The silky strands falling perfectly between your fingers, her mouth does what it does best just behind singing. She works up and down on your shaft with her mouth, her tongue gliding underneath. Getting impatient, you push yourself down her throat sliding down with ease. Her gag reflex is long gone through the practice she has had with you. Her eyes close as you fuck her throat, her nails digging into your thighs. Pulling out of her mouth watching the spit fall onto the floor, you throw her back to the couch pulling up her skirt.

“Please daddy,” She looks back at her, a slight wiggle of her ass, “Hurry and fuck me, make me yours,” Spreading her ass for you, she’s dripping making a mess of your couch. Who are you to make her wait? Your cock slides into her without any resistance. Her walls tighten around you, “F-f-fuck,” Her breathy moans fill the room, “Fuck me hard please Daddy,” She begs and begs pushing her hips back against you. Your hands grip on to her hips giving her what she wants.

“Is this what you wanted?” She takes your cock so well, just like you trained her to. She nods desperately, “Take this cock little slut.”

“Give it to me daddy,” Her moans fill the room, skin against skin. Her eyes rolling to the back of her head, her hands loosen their grip on the couch. You love the way she's putty under you. Her juices squirt covering the couch and the floor. Her body shakes as you keep up your pace. She takes it, doesn’t tell you to stop. She knows that you wouldn’t listen anyways. You pull her hair, making her look into the mirror above the couch, “P-please,” She begs again but for what? You don't know, “Ruin me daddy.”

You take her words to heart and set out to do just that, her body reacts to you in its trained way. You own her and you are going to show her that you do. Her hair pulled, red hand prints on her ass. “Such a slut,” You mutter as she squirts again with your hand around her pretty little neck. Pulling out, you watch her collapse sliding off the couch to the floor, laying in the puddle of her own creation. “Come on and crawl to the bedroom,” You watch as she struggles to her knees and slowly crawls, you leave heavy slaps on her ass as she does. Her whimpers are music to your ears, finally she makes it to the room. You pull her to the bed by her hair, tying her hands to the headboard. Her abs are what drew you to her in the first place then and now you still love them. Pulling out an ice cube you gently place onto her midriff causing her hips to buckle. The ice cube starts to melt onto her hot skin, your fingers make their way between her folds. Her eyes locked onto your hands as your fingers found their way inside.

“R-ruin me,” She begs again, “Not with your fingers Daddy, b-but with that big fat cock,” She begs more and more, making you chuckle. You watch her as becomes more undone as your fingers make short work of her orgasm, The ice cube fully melted, the remaining water sits in the curves of her midriff. Her body reacts to the littlest of any touch by you. Untying her hands from the ropes, her arms go limp. The rope dug into her skin leaving marks, you pulled her towards you, pushing her legs to her head. Slamming your cock into her without much warning. You take her for everything she’s worth. Her stomach bulges as you pound away. Her moans are hoarse and nearly inaudible. Her arms wrap around your neck, max she could muster. You fill her up, not even bothering to tell her about the incoming orgasm from you. You keep going, she wanted you to ruin her and that’s what you were going to do. She takes load after load, no complainants, this is what she wanted. You pull out for the last time, your cum dripping out of her, her legs go limp and fall to the bed. You catch your breath, “Why don’t you quit idol work and come be my everyday cumdump?”

“I-is that your way of proposing?” She asks between her breaths, you chuckle nodding, “I thought you’d never ask Daddy.”

#kpop smut #kpop #malereader #red velvet #son seungwan

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zepskies · 11 months ago

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Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him.

AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips.

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.”

Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.

“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”

“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”

Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.

He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…

“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.

“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.

“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.

“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was.

“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.

“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.

You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.

“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”

Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.

You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.

After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.

Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.

His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.

He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.

“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.

You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.

“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”

He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.

“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said.

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache.

Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again.

“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”

“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”

The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.

“About two grand,” he admitted.

You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.

“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”

You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.

“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.

Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.

“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.

“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.

“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”

“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.

“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.

“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously.

“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”

You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s.

By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.

The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.

You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.

You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.

You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.

“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”

You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.

“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.

Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”

He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.

“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.

Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.

After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.

“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.

You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.

Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.

Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.

“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.

Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.

You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.

“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”

“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.

“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”

Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”

“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”

“After?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”

Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.

“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”

You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.

You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”

He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.

“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.

It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.

God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.

“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.

Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.

“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.

Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass.

“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile.

“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.

You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket.

“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”

Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”

You gave a weak smile.

“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words.

His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.

An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied.

“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”

“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” you said.

He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”

“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.

And he was true to his word.

Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.

“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.

He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.

“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.

“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.

You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.

You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.

He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).

“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.

And he slapped you right on the ass.

You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.

Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.

Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.

His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.

“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.

"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.

“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”

His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.

Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.

“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.

“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.

“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”

If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.

You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”

Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.

You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.

You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.

Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.

And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.

I like this, you thought. And I like him.

However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.

"I'm okay," you tried.

"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."

“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.

“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.

Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.

But his hands were gentle for you.

“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.

He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”

You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.

But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.

He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.

You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.

You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.

Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.

His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.

His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.

You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.”

You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed.

“How long are you really in town?” you asked.

His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”

“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”

“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear.

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—”

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers.

“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.”

After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.

“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said.

Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.

Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.

After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.

You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.

When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.

Charlie still wasn’t home.

Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.

And it worried you even more.

I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right.

— C.

AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂

And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?

Next Time:

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

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#Permission Granted #Every Second Counts #Part 1 #russell shaw #tracker #russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x female reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw fanfic #dory shaw #colter shaw #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #tracker fanfiction #tracker cbs #russell shaw series #tracker series #zepskies writes

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holylulusworld · 7 months ago

Text

Good girls punch hard (1) - Kinktober 7

Summary: You. A baseball bat. An admirer.

Pairing: Raymond Smith x fem!Reader

Warnings: light violence, lust at first sight, stalking vibes, mentions of drugs/weed

Kink: Lust at first sight

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Raymond had better plans. A cup of tea, a good smoke. Maybe he’d indulge and have a glass of his favorite wine.

Instead of enjoying the fruits of his labor, he’s walking along a filthy hallway. Raymond scrunches up his nose, asking himself why he must play babysitter for a junkie.

Push Pete and Bunny follow him hot on his heels. They were prepared to use force if they must. They are silent on their way toward the apartment.

“We go in, get the girl, and get back out,” Raymond makes sure the men know he’s not up to violence. This should be an easy job – junkies and a princess in need—a classic.

“Open the fucking door or I’ll tear it down!” The men stop in their tracks watching you yell at the closed door. One of the bastards dared to slam it in your face. “I know Jasmine is in there. Send her out, and I won’t smash your skull!”

“Boss?” Bunny asks. “What do you want us to do?”

Raymond dips his head. It’s been a while since he found something amusing. He smirks when you swing your pink bat, hitting the door with full force.

“Wait. Let her have her fun. We’ve got some time,” Raymond smirks as you kick the door. The man gasps as they hear a cracking sound. You kick it again, and the door flies open. “Whoa, she’s stronger than she looks like.”

“Lady! What the fuck!” One of the junkies jumps up to block your path, but you use your bat to shove him out of your way. “That’s my home!”

“That’s a rat-infested and stinking shithole!” You snarl in his direction before turning your attention toward Jasmine. One of the other guys tried to push a needle in her arm, but you grabbed his wrist just in time. You twist it until he screams in pain.

“Aunt Y/N,” Jasmine mutters. “I only tried to have fun and get a little high. You partied too. For once, I wanted to be cool.”

“If you want to get a kick, do it like everyone did. Smoke a big fat joint helping you relax and make you feel good. No one shoots that kind of shit into their veins to try. You’ll get addicted and end up like those assholes.”

“It wouldn’t have gotten addicted,” she whines. “Why do adults always have to ruin all the fun for me?”

You grit your teeth. Jasmine isn’t the smartest, but she was a good girl before she met the losers shooting dirt into their veins.

“Do you want to waste your life, youth, and brain to get addicted to stuff making you go crazy, or offer your ass to the next best guy for the next shot?”

That makes her flinch. Her eyes flick toward the guys promising her a good time.

“She wanted to be a big girl and get dick, mommy!” One of the junkies’ snickers. “Good girls don’t get dick.”

You swing the bat, almost hitting his head. “I was a good girl too, asshat. I got the best dicks in town because smart and eloquent guys know a good girl’s worth. She doesn’t need a limp dick to ruin her first time.” You snap at the guy, making Raymond and the others chuckle.

You twirl around, to face the men entering the dingy apartment, instinctively shoving Jasmine, behind your back to protect her. The leader furrows his brows. He looks at your niece behind your back and then at you.

“Whatever business you’ve got to do with these crackheads, it’s your turn. I’m done here. I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t seen me.” You look the leader straight in the eyes, not showing any sign of weakness.

“Does she have anything to do with these,” the leader scrunches up his nose as he looks at the boys, “people?”

“No,” Jasmine blurs out. “They wanted to show me a good time, and make sure I’ll be cool soon but…I didn’t mean to…”

“Got it,” he says and nods toward you. “What’s your name?”

You size the man up while tightening the hold on your baseball bat. “I told you; I’m done here. It’s your show now. We shouldn’t exchange pleasantries, Sir.”

“Sir, huh?” One of the boys laughs as you shove Jasmine toward the door. “I bet she’s a good little bitch if you give her the good shit.”

Raymond backhands the boy. He gets a wet wipe out to clean his hand before turning his attention toward the girl they came for.

It doesn’t take Raymond long to convince the missing princess to agree on following them out of the shithole.

“So, now that the princess is gone I got one more question for you,” he points his index finger at one of them. “What’s the aunt’s name?”

They glance at Bunny, a fridge of a man standing behind Raymond.

“Do I stutter?” Raymond gets a little louder. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and huffs.

“No, but we know Jasmine’s name, and I took a picture of her hot aunt,” Raymond snatches the phone out of the grinning boy’s hand. He narrows his eyes because it’s a picture of your ass and legs.

Raymond pockets the phone and turns around to leave the dingy apartment. After being here, he’ll disinfect his whole body and burn his clothes.

“He’s not so useless after all,” Raymond talks to himself as he looks at the picture of you on his laptop. Your car is in the picture too. He can see the license plate.

Raymond leans back in his expensive armchair, debating whether to find out more about the woman swinging the bat or not…

“I thought we agreed on forgetting that we met.” You glare at the man standing in front of your door. “Did you not listen?”

“We didn’t agree on anything,” Raymond replies with a smirk. “I let you and your niece go because you didn’t have anything to do with these creatures.” He steps closer, stopping you from closing the door with his foot.

“What do you want here?” You glance at the baseball bat standing next to the door. “How did you find me?”

“I have my ways,” he casually replies. “I thought we could go for tea. I know a nice tea house not far away.”

You blink a few times. “Buddy, did you hit your head?” You question. “We met at a junkie shithole, and you come here to ask me out?”

Raymond adjusts his glasses. He looks at you, waiting for an answer. “Which sort do you prefer?”

“Sort?” You furrow your brows.

“Tea.”

“I don’t even know your name. Why would I agree to go anywhere with you?”

“Name’s Raymond,” he holds out his hand. “If you come with me, I don’t have to follow you around town.”

You sigh. “You’re another love-sick puppy, huh? Is it the baseball bat?” You dip your head to look him up and down. “Fine, if you pay for my tea, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Tags in reblog.

#raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #raymond smith x you #kinktober vs flufftober 2024 #the gentlemen fanfiction #raymond x reader #raymond smith x fem!reader #Good girls punch hard

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buckleyx · 6 months ago

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OBSESSION C.L

Summary: How far is too far? What if Formula One’s loving heartthrob comes entangled with the bitter taste of success? And what if you threaten to take it all away from him.

Author’s note: This has been in my drafts for a looong time, I guess I was never sure when to post it but because of last weeks race in Vegas and Charles snapping about the Carlos overtake I decided to try and post Part 1! It just fits so well with the story! I hope you enjoy!

Charles Leclerc x Driver!Reader

masterlist

It was no secret how much Charles loved to win. He liked the thrive, the attention, the indescribable feeling in his chest. He yearned to feel it, to experience it. It was like an addiction, a thrill that he couldn't get enough off. And after winning his first Formula one race in Spa, he knew that the taste will forever leave him yearning for more.

Winning was like poison to him but a good poison. A poison that he wanted to come back to no matter the cost. So you can say that after Ferrari kept letting him down, kept taking him away from tasting that bitter beautiful drug, that something inside of Charles switched.

Hushed whispers in the garages called it an obsession, an obsession towards perfection. Something that now with Ferrari seemed almost impossible to achieve. But that didn't stop the Monegasque. You see Charles kept a promise. And he was eager to live by it. He wasn't doing this for himself, atleast that's what he kept telling himself, he was doing this to prove to the people around him that he could live on a legacy.

The longer Charles was being held back from winning his championship the more impatient and infuriating he became. Charles had a great image. Had. He was caring and kind, threated people with respected and love but that version of him was long gone, he burried it six feet under together with the idea that you could ever get something done by being nice.

And then there was you. A freshly new driver. Not yet aware of the heartbreaking, money hungry world you were about to enter because you were so blinded by promises and ideas that you blissfully ignored every sign screaming towards your direction. Just like any other rookie.

After two successful starting years at Mclaren. You were quickly the new 'hot topic' for paddock talk. Your contract was coming to an end and you were being tossed around from team to team, being offered irresistible promises and big numbers left and right. "Championship talent." Is what they called you and everyone wanted a taste. Of course they did. If you were to win a championship you'd go into history as being the first woman to ever do so and everyone wanted it to be their name that you did it with.

But the best promises seemed to be coming from the red Ferrari garage. Their iconic age old logo shinning proudly on the side, reminding you off it's legacy and power. Ferrari was a dream since your early karting days. So after the winter break you traded your old orange papaya suit in for a bright new red one.

Here you were, Ferrari's new champion. New life full of ambition and joy. Just what the team needed. You were at the top of your game, ready for your new adventure. But your happiness left as quickly as it came because no one was better at bursting bubbles than your new teammate Charles Leclerc.

He mocked the term "championship talent" with so much disgust that it almost made you embarrassed to carry it. Every person could tell he felt intimidated, afraid that the team would shift their newly found focus completely on you. You had as much ambition to win as Charles and that scared him. You were not there to play second driver, no. You demanded equal pay and every little benefit the Moneqasue got too. You knew your rights and you were not afraid to remind every one of them, especially Charles.

Your first official introduction with Charles was during a guided tour of the Italian Ferrari headquarters back in December. You got shown around and recieved all the necessary information. A group of people were busily crowded around you, reporters, interns, assistants and ofcourse the big bosses of Ferrari themselves. Flashing you charming smiles and a handfull of information about the team and it's eventful history in Formula one.

"Here we have our championship wall." One of the technical directors pointed out, proudly refering to the timeline Infront of them with framed pictures and reminders of all their wins. Year numbers marked their past victorys together with accessories of their previous drivers: Schumacher's racing gloves, Lauda's helmet, Ascari's racing suit, enc. It was beautiful looking at the people whoms footsteps you were about to follow. "Soon that will be you." He nodded, watching as you stepped closer to the end of the timeline, inspecting the picture of Kimi holding the last championship trophy for Ferrari above his head.

You looked in awe, feeling a sense of pride and confidence wash over you at the trust the team so generously put into you. The group of people chatted their way into the next room, so big into their own world that they payed no mind to your short absence while you admired your early childhood heroes.

"Beautiful, no?" A familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned around, seeing your new teammate admire the wall for himself. His arms were crossed and he had a concentrated look on his face. "Very." You smiled sincere. There was no need for first introduction, since you both were well aware of who you both where. You've seen Charles countless times on the grid but this was the first proper conversation you had with him alone.

"I admire your courage." Charles remarked after a minute of silence, sarcasm dripping clear in his tone. The peaceful tension in the room suddenly shifted to a hostile one. "Not a lot of people want to be my teammate." He said cockily as he made his way towards you. You could tell from his tone that he had the intention of intimidating you and by the way you uncomfortably took a step back as he got closer he could tell it was working.

A slight nasty smile covered his lips as he looked down on you. His eye contact was strong and uncomfortable. "I'm not afraid of you." You stated out, still taken back by his rude persona but you weren't in the least bit surprised.

Carlos warned you about him, everyone did. You met Charles before, talked to him before, but that person he was 2 years ago was nowhere near the same as the one towering over you. The Monegasque was indeed unrecognisable. His shimmer was gone. The shimmer everyone fell in love with was replaced by a heartless and mean one.

"Very cute." He mocked. "I'm sure you wont last long so I'm not worried about you. Most rookies never do. And since they only hired you to make their team more diverse, I see you more as a walking mascot, a fucking joke to promote their perfect reputation. Just,-" Your teammate laughed coldly, moving his head closer to your face before whispering: "-don't get in my fucking way."

He threatened, looking you dead in the eye before flashing another fake charming smile and leaving you again alone in the room.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #x reader #formula one x reader #formula one x you #Charles leclerc x driver!reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles x reader #formula one fanfiction

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normal-person-i-promise · 7 months ago

Text

burning hot

yandere! jealous reigen x reader

"Reigen? Everything okay?"

No. No no no no. Not you. Don't talk to him.

And you're worrying about him. Again. Why must you be so... Caring?

♡ ♡ ♡

God, how Arataka hates that he hired you.

Okay, not— not to say that he regrets hiring you, per se, it's just that... He hates the job he gave you. He hates that everyday, you have to talk to so, so many people all the time, just because of his idiocy — just because he hired you for a job without thinking of the consequences.

He just... Hates how genuine your smiles always seem, how warm and inviting your words are. He hates how nice you always are to all the clients.

They should be for him. Only him. God, how he hates that he hired you.

Realistically speaking, you're the perfect employee: polite, patient, understanding, hardworking — you're flawless. If you were another employee, if you weren't... You, your behaviour would be rewarded on the daily.

Not that he isn't already doing that, though.

He'd take you out to dinner. He'd get you expensive clothes and shoes, high-end perfumes and the newest phones. He'd take care of you when you're sick and when you're well, he'd give you all the affection you could ever ask for. He could love you so, so dearly and so, so well, and yet... He... Can't.

See, that's why Arataka hates having hired you.

...Though it's more of a... Bittersweet relationship with it, really. On one hand, he's overjoyed that he considered you and took you as an employee — he got to meet you, get close to you, talk to you, spend time with you. He got an absolutely amazing employee and even better company! What's not to like about that? You're funny, caring, charming, attentive... He could go on forever.

He's really, really grateful, too, that you wanted the job in the first place. Just thinking of a life without you, a life where you never applied and he never hired you... God, it makes him sick to the stomach.

It'd be so... So dull without you.

On the other hand, though... Oh, how he hates that he gave you, you, a job in customer service, with— with him, of all people, as your boss. Your attention shouldn't be on anyone else. It should just be him. Only him.

And he can't... Be with you, either, because you're not supposed to be in relationships with your boss; it's highly, highly inappropriate — and quite frankly scandalous — behaviour. It results in nothing more than a broken, chaotic workplace, and horrid relationships between employees and employers.

...Best to avoid that, yes?

And, for the record, yes, Arataka's aware. He's fully, totally aware that these feelings, these rampant butterflies in his stomach and these racing thoughts, are all bad; they're too intense, too much. He's aware, fully aware, that he shouldn't have any of these feelings for you in the first place. He hates them, he hates you, he hates himself more than you could ever imagine.

An employee. You're an employee. You're below him, in other words — he's your boss, for god's sake. It is not good in any way, shape, or form, for him to have any kind of romantic— y'know, scratch that, any kind of relationship in general, with you.

It's hard to act normal when you're being so awfully loving to him all the time.

You're addicting, you. A sweet, sugary drug Arataka can't get enough of; the way you'd smile so radiantly, the way you'd talk so sweetly, the way you'd laugh so melodiously...

Oh, it's hard to keep himself together. You're just so... Perfect, god...

There's scant a thought that isn't about you. His hands shake, his head spins, his heart races— and it all feels so, so bad. It feels like he's disobeying rules he can't break, it feels like he's doing something illegal. He feels sick in the head for being this... This in love with you, he feels like he's going mad.

He is, in a way. That's another reason why he hates you so much.

Your... God, your intoxicating words, your tender touch, your god forsaken smile— he hates it. He hates how much he wants you. He hates how much he likes spending time with you, he hates how wanted he feels in your presence, he hates how you'd always make him laugh. He hates how much he thinks about you, how often he'd find his cheeks flushing, how often he'd find himself stumbling over his words.

He hates how much... How much of a mess you make him into. You could reduce him to nothing more than a flustered heap on the floor if you just said something in a different tone that usual.

An absentminded touch. A little smile. A half giggle.

It's enough to drive him insane.

All for you. You, you, you, you, you—

Arataka crushes the cigarette in his hand. The smoke fizzles through his tense, white-knuckled fingers, his brows creased low over his eyes and his mouth set in a hard scowl.

His eyes follow the weak trail of smoke as it slithers lazily out the window, the sweet, smoky smell of tobacco hanging in the air, his hand coated with the ash. The blinds are pulled up, letting the golden sunset's rays spill into the room and casting deep, dark blue shadows.

It makes you look even prettier than usual.

"Reigen? Everything okay?"

No. No no no no. Not you. Don't talk to him.

Your sweet, honeyed voice, your concerned tone, your worried eyes — you'd definitely noticed him white-knuckling his god forsaken desk, and you'd also definitely noticed his icy cold gaze as he stared intently, blankly into the wood, lost in his mind.

And you're worrying about him. Again. Why must you be so... Caring?

"Mm?" He hums in a tight, clipped tone, his teeth clenched tightly together. His eyes move too fast to meet yours, his gaze... Unnaturally intent, scarily intense.

You clear your throat in discomfort, shifting your eyes away.

No no no no. Look at him.

"You, uh..."

You gesture to the cigarette dish on his desk, full.

"...You've been smoking a lot more often. Drinking, too."

Well, how's he supposed to cope?

He can't hold you, he can't talk to you all the time. he can't run his hands through your hair, he can't call or text you, he can't hold your hand — he can't be with you, for god's sake. How's he supposed to deal with that intense burning, burning yearning in his chest, hotter than the earth's core?

He drowns out the voices. He smokes out the thoughts. He goes insane with every second he spends with you, and loses his mind every second he isn't. How's he supposed to deal with that?

Arataka's reply takes too long, with too much thought for such a simple sentence.

"...Stressed."

He gives you a tight smile, one you return reluctantly— and, god, does that make his chest tighten.

"...Do you need to talk about it?" You ask cautiously, carefully, like you're testing the waters. Are you even close enough to him to confide in you? He's your boss, after all. An acquaintance.

You care about him. About Arataka. You care enough about him to notice his... Behaviours, notice his stress and worry. That must mean you were staring at him, too! Oh, to have your attention... You care about him enough to ask what's wrong, and to offer help, enough to have that sweet concern in your voice and that crease in your brow.

God, does that feel good.

He leans on his desk. He stares at you, stares right through you; doesn't blink, doesn't break eye contact once. He doesn't seem to breathe, either.

It's enough to send shivers down your spine.

"Mm?" Arataka hums, missing what you'd said — he'd gotten lost in your eyes again. He finally blinks, snapping out of it.

Again, not paying attention. He mentally scolds himself.

Before you can repeat yourself, he cuts you off.

"Ah, no, no, it's alright, really."

It's not. It's really not.

He's got a wide, fake smile that doesn't reach his eyes, his posture unnaturally stiff and rigid.

You hum, uncertain.

"...You wanna..."

...You trail off. What are you even supposed to do? You doubt there's anything you can really help him with.

"...You want some green tea?" You ask awkwardly, a hesitant smile on your face.

God.

Arataka clenches his hands, crumpling the cigarette and crushing it into ashes in the palm of his tight fist. His vision blurs, his head spins.

You. You are making green tea. With your hands. For him. Him? Just for him? Oh, he's getting a little light-headed.

And he's taking too long to reply.

He smiles; this one crinkles his eyes, though the mouth is open much, much too wide, and his gaze is too intense for such a simple interaction.

"Ah, um, yeah, sure. Thanks."

You can feel that sensation of being watched — that cold, creeping shiver crawling beneath your clothes and slithering up your spine as you get up from your chair to go and heat the water.

Arataka is... Watching you intently, intensely, all his attention on you. He sighs dreamily as he watches you go to the sink and get water, watches as your fingers turn the dial and turn on the flame. He almost... Studies you.

He observes the way your hair shines and moves, commits to memory the way your eyes flit here and there as you walk about hurriedly. He watches your careful hands as you prepare the pot, counts the seconds it takes for your fingers reach inside and out to place the leaves.

Nothing else. Nothing else to do other than wait. Are you thinking of anything?

What are you thinking of? Him?

It's... Awkward, to say the least. It's going to take at least five minutes, and it doesn't seem right to go back and sit down while the water boils.

So you stand there in silence with Arataka's eyes trained on you. He listens attentively to the sound of your fingers drum, drum, drumming on the counter, staring at the way your eyes reflect the sunlight and the way you'd shift your weight from one leg to the other.

Those are self-soothing behaviours, he notes. Little things people do when they're anxious, or worried, or stressed. Are you alright? Are you impatient? He could hug you. He could hold you, too, if you'd like. Anything to make you feel better.

You should take your time, too. You shouldn't rush things. He finds it really sweet and caring that you're getting so worked up for him, but you really shouldn't be. Calm down, please? Slow down a bit, too. Don't worry about taking up his time, either — he could watch you forever...

Oh. The whistling. Right, he forgot about that.

You're quick to take the kettle off the flame the moment you hear a sliver of that whistling, taking it off the heat and pouring it into the pot.

And, of course, Arataka watches you.

You stir it for a moment before taking out two cups and placing them on a tray. You bring everything back to where he lounges on the couch, leaning back with his suit unbuttoned.

His eyes follow you as you set the tray down on the table and pour a cup, then another.

You smile reluctantly.

"Here... You go," you say, gingerly holding out the green tea to him.

Oh...

He stares at you. Stares so, so intensely, sending waves of butterflies raging through his stomach and causing that same chill to creep up your spine. He stares at you in a way that can only be described as focused. His eyes flit from your hands to your face, then back again, tracing the contours of your arms and observing the way your fingers curl around the cup and hold it so, so delicately, all for him.

You're so cute, being all worried and caring about him. You sound so scared, too, like you're afraid whatever adorable act you're pulling could ever possibly make him worse — when all you do is make his heart beat wildly in his chest and his stomach twist painfully into knots.

He's taking too long, he realises.

Arataka reaches out slowly. It takes all his willpower to rip his eyes from your perfect, perfect face, your shining hair and your sparkling eyes. It takes so, so much of him to tear his gaze from yours.

He could die a happy man if you so much as looked at him the same way he looked at you, you know. If you so much as felt his golden hair between your fingers or held his face, if you so much as laughed at his jokes or entertained his conversations.

Deliberately brushing his hand against yours when he takes it from you, his fingers graze yours as he grips the porcelain cup in shaky, trembling hands, getting high off your touch. Can you believe that? You poured him a cup!

And, god, your hands are so— so soft, and so, so delicate, and, oh— oh, they're so warm, too, and—!

He nearly drops the cup.

You take sip after wary sip of the hot drink, the warm liquid rolling down your throat in a way that soothes your nerves and calms your mind. It gets your thoughts back on track, at least.

Oh, and Arataka? No, no, it'd be foolish to think that any of this is helping. That any of this — all your caring, all your worry, all your attention — is helping. It does nothing more than make that fire burn hotter and hotter.

His stomach twists into even tighter knots when you look at him.

"Do you feel better?" You ask carefully, warily, in the same manner as you take your small sips.

Relax. He has to relax. What will you think? He's getting all worked up over nothing. No use worrying about something that isn't relevant.

He takes a long, deep breath, slowing his heart and loosening his stomach.

He smiles gently, normally — as normal he can be right now. He looks calmer to you.

"A lot better, thanks."

You smile back, and, god, does that makes his chest ache. His heart rate skyrockets as his fingers tighten around the hot cup of green tea, nearly tight enough to break the ceramic.

He curses under his breath, loosening his grip.

It's this moment when his phone rings, and Arataka lets out a grumble of annoyance as he digs it out of his pocket, flipping it open.

Mob.

He answers.

"Ah, what is it, Mob?"

It's quiet for a while as you strain to hear the conversation, though you get the general gist from the way Arataka acts.

"Oh, come on! It's just a little club activity, isn't it? Isn't helping out your mentor and learning from him more important than some..." He gestures carefully with the cup of tea. "...Squats?"

There's another pause, followed by Arataka's annoyed groan.

"Fine, fine," he admits reluctantly, flipping the phone shut.

Secretly, Arataka is overjoyed with Mob's absence. If he's gone, then that means all your attention will be on him. It means you'll be talking with him to pass the time, and that means you'll let out those little aspects of your life that always seem to slip out. He'll remember everything you tell him.

He fakes an annoyed huff, slouching back in his seat, though he's careful not to spill his green tea.

"Mob's got some..." Again, those cup gestures. "...Useless club stuff today."

Arataka leans back in the couch, sipping his warm drink as he fakes a scowl. You stare as he gets comfortable, and he relishes in the attention.

"It'll be just you and me in the office today."

Your gaze flits to the clock in the corner.

Not like you're going to be here long. It's just one more hour until closing.

Arataka points his cup precariously, almost accusingly in your direction, the tea sloshing against the porcelain walls.

"So you'll help me with any exorcism. Got it?"

You hum, as though in thought — and Arataka just knows you're going to shoot back with something of your own.

"Mmm," you hum, sipping on your tea, "I'm not sure. Nothing's really forcing me, and c'mon — aren't you enough of a psychic to deal with them yourself?"

You—!

He kicks your foot from under the table, and you fake a dramatic wince.

"Ow!" You cry out in mock pain.

Arataka just rolls his eyes, grinning as he sips his drink. There's a long pause, too, full of nothing but silence and Arataka's shallow, quickened breathing that he hopes you can't hear.

He tries small talk.

"Where are you off to after this?"

He crosses his legs, draping an arm over the chair and leaning back, getting comfortable and giving you a nice view of his body. He watches carefully for your reaction.

You don't react, much to Arataka's dismay. You just pause for a moment before shrugging. "Just home."

He hums, though still thinking bitterly about your lack of reaction. "And are you taking the train, or...?"

You shake your head. "Walking. Y'know—" you mime the motion of the arms of a runner, grinning —"gotta get some exercise."

He lets out a half-scoff at your little motion, amused and more than smitten. You're so cute...

"Mind if I walk with you?" He offers, struggling to keep his voice even. "I'm probably better at it than you, though."

You kick his foot, now, offended but not mad. He fakes a wince. Your touch...

You halfheartedly scoff, rolling your eyes.

"Sure, sure, yeah. Whatever."

Arataka's heartbeat skyrockets. That warm lump of muscle feels like it's being rattled in a cage too small to house it, and it wants out. It wants you.

He can feel his stomach twist again, the butterflies all getting crushed in the tight knots his stomach twists into. His chest tightens enough to restrict his breathing, his breaths coming out shallow and quickened.

He'll finally know where you live. He'll finally know where you live.

You finish your cup of tea, and the sound of the porcelain clinking on the table as you put it down gets him out of his thoughts.

He's impatient. He's really, really impatient. He wants to go now. Now.

But he has a job. He can't just close shop early all because of some employee he's unhealthily obsessed with.

So Arataka just nods at you, though the reaction is really, really delayed.

He smiles.

"And the weekend?" He probes. "Anything going on?"

He pauses. He has to say something about himself too, right?

"For me, I've got nothing much. I just want to catch up on a series I've been missing a lot of recently."

...And you shrug again. Why are you so uncertain about your routine? That isn't good. He could fix that so, so easily if you just let him.

"...I just wanna rest, I think. Watch some movies, go somewhere fancy... Y'know." You make jazz hands, grinning adorably.

"Self care!"

He laughs a little at your motions, finding it so, so endearing. He commits it to memory.

"I see, I see. And where are you going?"

You hum. "I dunno. Anywhere, I guess? What are some places you suggest?"

Good. That's good. If you go to the place he suggests, that means he knows where you are. He can go there, too, and pretend it was an accident, then he can eat with you. He can eat with you!

"Hmm," he hums, thinking. "There's a nice ramen shop near here. Wanna go tonight?"

Smooth, Arataka. Very smooth, asking you out on a date like that. He mentally pats himself on the back.

...And you shake your head. What? You aren't supposed to do that. Do you even realise that it's a date, or do you just think it's a friend meetup? He has invited you out to dinner as friends more than a few times...

"I'm a bit tired," you say regretfully, giving him a smile that makes his head spin. "Maybe on the weekend?"

Weekend. On the weekend. On the weekend. You and him. Together. On the weekend. Really?

He smiles as normally as he can, nodding.

"Great! I'll see you then," he replies, winking at you.

The clock ticks to 6 PM, slowly but surely. The tea thing and the conversation had easily lasted longer than intended, and now an hour has passed and it's time for closing.

Arataka gets up from his chair, buttoning up his suit and taking the tray of tea and cups to the sink before you get a chance to, just to pay you back for the drinks you'd made. He washes them with trembling hands, his mind reeling.

Can you imagine?! He's going to walk back to your house! Your house! And it'll just be the two of you! Just the two of you, walking during a nice sunset, conversing as the sun dips lower and lower on the horizon... Oh, god, the light cast will look oh so pretty on your perfect, perfect face...

Your voice, your voice— god, god, god, your attention, all on him. You, your attention, you—!

He nearly drops the cup again.

He finishes washing the dishes quickly, doing a rather sloppy job at it.

Opening the door and ushering you out, he locks the front door and jogs a little to get beside you as the two of you walk down the stairs.

The warm summer air almost assaults you as you leave the S&S building, the scent of hot concrete and smokey car exhaust hanging heavy in the air.

You don't really talk to him as you walk. You more... Listen to the sounds of the city — the people in the shops eating, talking, laughing; the cars and trains bustling busily along their tar roads and metal rails, the click-click-click of Arataka's expensive dress shoes on the pavement.

He memorises the walk to your house. He remembers every shop, every walkway, every sign he passes by. He memorises the amount of turns and direction changes you go through, and he memorises the way you walk so casually and so close to him.

This is nice. He hates that this isn't a regular occurrence, but it will become one. He'll make sure of it.

He nearly walks into traffic light poles and potholes more than once. He's just so... Distracted, with the way you'd hum so sweetly to yourself, the way your hair frames your face, your god forsaken smile as you wave to passerbys and children.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop.

Everyone else is out to cheat, lie, steal, use you. You're not smart enough to avoid them. Please, please, let him protect you, and please stop giving them your time of day! Your smiles, your songs, your time and your care and your love should only be for him. Why in the world do you like everyone but him?!

Arataka clenches his hands tightly in his pockets, his posture stiffening as you wave to a baby held tenderly by their mother.

No. No. God, for god's sake—

He walks a little ahead, forcing you to keep up the pace. He quickens his walking speed more and more until he's almost jogging.

Don't look at people. Just look at him. He's enough for you, isn't he?

"Hey, hey! Slow down!"

You break into a slight jog as you struggle to keep up with his long strides, his shoes clicking loudly against the hot concrete. Once you get close enough to see him, you notice that his posture is unnaturally straight and stiff, and his eyes are focused, almost burning behind the darker-than-usual brown irises.

Touch him. Touch him on his shoulder. He won't respond unless you touch him. He won't give you his attention unless you touch. Him. Show him that you love him, too, just like how you love every other person.

It's not fair. It's not fair at all.

You clap a hand on his shoulder, and Arataka jolts, a sharp bolt of lighting searing his skin from where your hand rests heavily on him and spreading through his body until it's thoroughly hot. He's almost embarrassed. Is he blushing?

"Wait! Up!" You exclaim tiredly, shaking him a little. He scoffs, and you can almost see him roll his eyes from where you stand, staring at the back of his head.

"Told you I'd be better at it then you," he says, a grin lacing his voice heavily.

You huff, shoving him a bit as you let go. He mourns your touch. Please, for god's sake—

"You were the one who wanted to follow me," you say accusingly, enough to make Arataka scoff again. It's clear you're both joking.

"Let me rest. For the sake of all that is good and holy, walk slower. I'm so tired from working today in your office, you know."

Tired from what, lounging about? There were no customers.

He scoffs, shaking his head in the same way an amused caretaker would.

"Fine, fine, okay," he says with a smitten look on his face, though his eyes are so... Dark.

He walks besides you, now. He adjusts his pace every time you'd slow down to look at a window with cool things inside or speed up when you'd see a cat or something that looks like one in the distance.

He smiles in an unhealthy amount of amusement and watches you intently as you bend down or kneel to pet every furry little kitty you see, and Arataka would be lying if he said he wasn't just a little bit jealous of them. Your hands are so gentle on their small heads and bodies, and your coos and fawns are endearing enough for him to feel that burning hotness flare up in his chest again.

He prefers dogs, honestly — and he'd love you like one.

His shadow looms almost menacingly over your hunched-over form, his eyes glued to every little movement and adjustment you make to yourself. He notes down anything and everything he can.

You talk to the cat in baby talk, like it's even near as intelligent as it needs to be to understand language. Arataka can understand language easily, but you never seem to talk to him so sweetly and lovingly.

Your hands look so soft and gentle as you scratch the little cat, and your little exclamations of surprise and what you've called "aggressive cuteness", which is basically just a bunch of mumbled words said through tightly clenched teeth which are almost addicting to hear. You also press kisses to its dirty head about once every ten seconds, and you demeanor is so relaxed and calm that Arataka almost pulls you away from the cat if it meant you'd act a fraction of how you're treating this god forsaken animal, when he is the one that should have your attention.

God, you're so gentle with that thing... Your hands are careful and loving, your words sincere and tender...

He swallows thickly, averting his gaze — and it only makes his mind wander even further, bothering him even more.

You hands. Your hands are so soft. They'd feel great on his cheeks, wouldn't they? Cradling his face with that same tenderness that you exhibit right now, using those same gentle movements to lull him slowly to bed.

And your words. Your words, your words, your words, said with such endearment, such love... They'd feel great to hear when they're directed to him instead, wouldn't they? Compliment after compliment after compliment after compliment. Empty or not, he'd eat it all right up like a starving man.

You're really, really fun to talk to, too. Your speech, as he's noted, varies in both speed and pitch, which makes it interesting to listen to; your body language is always relaxed and at ease when you're talking to him, and your eye contact is on-point and direct with appropriate breaks in between. You know the rules, but follow them loosely and relaxedly. It's admirable.

Right now, though, the cat is going round and round your body, nuzzling you and leaving a trail of fur on your clothes.

Let him do that with you, too. Let him lean on you and hold you and kiss you and hug you. Let him touch you.

This is not fair. This is not fair. All he wants is attention. This kind of attention, please, please, please—

And yet, here you are, giving all your precious, precious attention to a ball of fur when he's right there behind you.

Arataka scowls, clearing his throat loudly.

"You're going to make this walk take twice as long," Arataka says in a half-joking, biting tone as you continue to pet the fifth cat you've seen on your walk.

"You'd better hurry up if you don't want to get home late."

You hum in mild annoyance, watching as the cat tilts her head to lean into your scratches. She's really soft, and her purrs are awfully loud. "Last one, last one, I promise."

He sighs.

"And that's the fourth time you're saying that."

Oh, wait. A lesson could be taught.

"And you have to work according to your words — you can't just say you'll do something and end up not actually good at it."

He kicks your leg, gently and carefully.

"You have to learn to keep your promises."

He pauses.

"And I'm going to be late for my bus."

Oh. Oh, crud—

You get up off the floor in a hurried panic, almost falling over. Arataka reaches his hands out for a moment, almost like he was going to catch you — all for the prospect of being able to touch something so beautiful.

"What—" you cough awkwardly, dusting off your hands —"what time is your bus leaving?"

He flips open his phone, half-lidded eyes scanning the screen and reading the time.

"...Ten minutes."

"Ah! Ah, sorry, sorry—!"

He smiles, cutting you off. He struggles to keep it looking sane.

"It's okay, just... Stop delaying us with the cats, alright? I offered to walk you. I can afford being a little late for a bus."

You adjust yourself uneasily on your feet, fiddling with your shirt's sleeves. "Okay," you reply reluctantly.

Good, that's... That's good. That's good. You promised you wouldn't be distracted, but you keep smiling at people... Arataka huffs, shoving his hands firmly into his pockets.

And the walk continues on in silence.

When he follows you up the stairs and to the your front door, he lingers for too long. His hands are fidgeting and sweaty as he smiles that same, toothy smile.

"Thanks for walking me back home!" You thank him as you fumble with the key and lock. "I really appreciate it."

You insert the key into the lock, and he watches as you twist it and push open the door.

"Any time," he replies.

"See you on the weekend?"

"See you on the weekend!"

Arataka waves a shaky goodbye to you, and you shut the door.

Once you're out of view, he nearly falls flat on his face. His knees threaten to buckle under his weight, his vision going blurry.

You are so— so cute, it's so hard to not—

He stumbles backwards, his arms flailing about to steady him.

You're teasing him! You're teasing him, you're teasing him, you're teasing him, it's almost certain! You keep smiling, and laughing, and talking, and— god, god, it's hard to resist the urge to crush you in his arms every second he spends in your presence. Every moment he spends breathing the same air as you, he feels his heart nearly burst out of his ribcage and his chest tightening enough to constrict his breathing. His head pounds, and he winces.

His eyes are blown wide and white, sweat beading down his forehead. His hands grip his hair in a shaky, trembling grip, combing through it in a futile attempt to calm himself.

He misses you. He wants you. Your attention, your care, your time, your energy, your love. Anything and everything he could give you has already been given, so why can't you return the favour? It's just a few words, or some gentle touches.

...Can you believe him? It hasn't even been five seconds, and he already yearns to see you again. There's a gaping emptiness where his heart should be in his chest, his breathing growing ragged and shallow, his hands trembling just to hold you again, just to touch you for a fraction of a second.

But he'll see you on the weekend. Oh, how he's looking forward to that.

#absoulutely enraged. wheres all my yandere reigen content #begging for scraps #on my hands a nd knees #arataka reigen x reader #reigen arataka x reader #reigen x reader #yandere #yandere reigen #yandere reigen x reader #yandere reigen arataka x reader #yandere arataka reigen x reader #gn reader

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quiet-onset · 2 years ago

Text

fever pitch

pairing: michael berzatto x reader

wc: 12.1k+, somebody sedate me

summary: an assortment of your time with michael berzatto

warnings: no use of yn, smut, so minors dni!!!, unprotected sex, sex under the influence, by ext. dubcon since reader is unaware at the time, oral (f receiving), drug use and addiction (character and reader), canonical character death/suicide mention, pregnancy mention (sorry not sorry), please do not read if any of this is triggering for you!!

a/n: beta’d by @brattylyricist bc she has no other choice than to put up with my bs!! also bc the content matter here is triggering and i have personal experience seeing the damage that addiction can do to someone you love, I’m including national hotline phone numbers here. please don’t be afraid to seek help if you need it: national suicide prevention hotline: dial/text 988, substance abuse and mental health services administration: 1-800-662-HELP. again, please do not read this if any of the warnings are triggering for you!!!

The day went by in a blur. You got up, showered, did your hair and makeup. You ate the little breakfast you could stomach. You put on an acceptable black dress and matching high heels.

You drove to the church — tried to sit in the back, but Sugar pulled you to the front pew, right next to her. You stood behind the lectern and said kind, loving words. You drove to the cemetery and watched as his casket was lowered into the cold. And you went to the repass, doing your best to stay out of Donna’s way, knowing how she gets when she’s both sad and under pressure.

But you hadn’t cried.

You sat on the stairs with your wine glass filled with water as everyone mingled, exchanging condolences about your dearly departed. You let your heart ache as you downed the glass, stories of him being told by this person and that.

But you still hadn’t cried.

Donna burst out of the kitchen, her hair a bit disheveled and eyes red from crying. “Have you seen Carmy?”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh. It must have been the seventh time she had asked. “No, Donna, I have not seen Carmy.”

“What a fuckin’ help you are.” She snapped, pulling a box of cigarettes from her apron. With her other hand, she snatched your empty wine glass and turned on her heel. “I do all this work, and I can’t even go outside to smoke.”

You followed close behind, huffing as you stood. “I thought Sugar was with you.”

“Sugar is with her.” The middle child interrupted. She gave you a weak, empathetic smile when you entered the kitchen behind Donna. A wine glass of her own in hand as she sat on the kitchen counter, she sipped on red wine. “But Sugar can’t cook.”

“Not like Carmy, you can’t. Get your ass off my fuckin’ counter, shoo!” Donna swatted at her daughter’s thigh until she hopped off the counter, snatching her half full wine glass as well. She downed the wine in a couple seconds, and you and Sugar shot each other a look. It was passing, but you both understood the meaning — Donna needed a break.

“She doesn’t have to cook, Donna. Just watch everything. Keep an eye on it, y’know?” You tried to intervene but she was having none of it.

“I don’t need an eye. I need hands! I need someone who can cook!” Donna threw the glasses into the sink, and you flinched when they shattered against the metal. “Fuck!”

“I’ll do it, Donna.” From the shakiness in her hands, you know she’s so close to losing it. To taking everything in the kitchen and throwing it on the ground, at the wall, at whoever she deemed worthy of having something thrown at them. “I know I’m not Carmy, but I’m better than Sug.”

“Hey!” Sugar sounded defensive, but you and Donna barely paid her any mind.

“You can’t fuckin’ cook, Sugar, get over it.” Her mother snapped. “I’d normally have Mikey do it, but he—”

“Ma.” You gently placed your hands on Donna’s shoulders, and a bit of the tension fell from them. You hadn’t called her that in a long time — it no longer felt right — but doing so made her recall happier times. You looked her in the eye, reassured her. “You go outside and smoke. I’ll take over for a few minutes, okay?”

Her eye twitched ever so slightly, and she was still shaking, but you could tell it grounded her a bit. “If everything else goes to shit, make sure the fish is good, alright?”

“Save the fish. Got it.”

Donna nodded, pulling a cigarette out of the box. Then she finally walked toward the exit of the kitchen, twirling it in her hand. Just before she left, she glanced at you again, her voice shaky. “You.. you would’ve been good for him. If he’d let you.”

When Donna left, there were tears in your eyes. Sugar watched to see if you’d need comfort, especially after one of those tears fell from your eye. But you were quick to wipe it away, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You turned to Sugar, gesturing toward the sink filled with broken glass. “Could you…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She was quick to do so, grabbing a paper bag to put shards in. You both worked in a comfortable silence. The only sound was the clinking of glass against each other. Sugar battled over whether she wanted to speak, but she figured if she needed kind words, then you definitely did. “Ma’s right, y’know. Michael lo—”

“Sug. Please.”

“Okay.”

There was a pause as you stirred a pot of stew, then you sighed. “I know he did. As much as he could anyway.”

—

Michael met you on a sober streak. He’d been clean for three weeks, the longest stint thus far. When Richie found out about his addiction, he dragged Michael to Narcotics Anonymous. You’re gonna die cooking at the restaurant or doing something cool, not fuckin’ OD, Richie had sneered in the car.

He sat in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest, grumbling like a child. Despite being sober for three weeks, he maintained that he didn’t need to come to these meetings. To Michael, this was just proof that he could quit whenever he wanted to. Regardless, Richie drove him to every meeting and planned to do so until he seemed ready to go on his own.

The host of the meeting, Brayden, greeted Michael with a kind smile, but he responded with a grunt. For three weeks, Michael sat silently in that circle and said absolutely nothing. He wondered what it took to get the man to speak, but of course, he’d never pressure anyone to share before they were ready.

Then you walked in. You seemed a bit more put together than others in the room, but still a bit shy. An oversized sweater wrapped around your frame, and you pulled it even closer, eyes glancing around the room. You nodded a greeting to Brayden before sitting in the circle across from Michael. When you noticed him glancing your way, you offered a friendly smile, and he returned it.

He knew then that he’d return to his weekly NA meetings.

The session started shortly after, but Michael was only half listening. He was mostly glancing back and forth from whoever was speaking to you. He liked the way you gave your full attention to every person who spoke, even when they said things you didn’t agree with — he could tell when you didn’t, a little crease would form for the briefest moment between your brows. But it always disappeared, and your attentive expression returned.

“Alright, would anyone else like to speak? Someone new maybe?” Brayden asked, quickly glancing at Michael.

He’d never admit it, but his heart was pounding at the idea of airing out his dirty laundry to a group of strangers. He took a deep, nervous breath, but then another voice spoke up.

“I’ll go.” You said, watching the relief wash over Michael’s face. You cleared your throat, pulling your sweater closer as you introduced yourself. “I was in a car accident two years ago. It, uh, it killed my son… That plus divorce plus prescribed oxy apparently equals addiction.”

The slightly playful lilt in your tone made Michael chuckle quietly, though you both knew nothing was funny. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat. Still, you continued, “I’ve been sober for two months, but my son’s birthday is coming up in a few months, so I, uh, needed a meeting. But yeah, that’s my story.”

After the meeting, you stood by the snack table, nursing a cup of coffee. Michael approached cautiously as he poured his own coffee. “Can I ask what his name was?”

You looked up from your paper cup into warm brown eyes. “Sorry?”

“Your son?”

“Oh.” You paused, and your heart sank at the reminder that your baby was gone. “His name was Benson.”

He snorted into his coffee cup, trying to hide his quiet laugh by clearing his throat. You noticed the light in his eyes, and it inexplicably made a smile pull at your lips too. “Sorry.” He said. “Benson’s a great name.”

“It’s a dorky name. Dorky first name, anyways. It’s what his father wanted.” You confirmed with a chuckle. “But it was my son’s name. So I liked it.”

“Course.” He smiled at you kindly. He was charming, and you liked it. “I’m Michael, by the way.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand. You went against your better judgment and invited him to your place. You both spent all night wrapped in your sheets, in each other’s embrace. He left for work the next morning but not before getting your phone number.

You texted Michael and arranged to meet up again that night. Then, you called your sponsor.

That was the beginning of the end.

—

“Cousin, your girlfriend’s here!”

“Not his girlfriend, Richie.”

“Not yet.”

“Send her back!” Michael’s voice floated in from the back of the kitchen.

You sidestepped Richie and walked through the kitchen, saying your hellos to everyone. “Where’s he at?” You asked.

“The office.” Tina answered, lightly nudging you in his direction. “He’s not having the best day.”

You nodded your understanding and proceeded to the small office where Michael was leaning back in his chair, hand over his face as he spoke into his cell phone. “No, I just don’t understand why we keep talking about the same shit.”

You leaned against the doorframe, giving him a small smile. He gave you the tiniest acknowledgment, a small wave, before spinning around in the chair to face the wall. You scoffed jokingly, closing the door behind you, “Well, fuck me, I guess.”

“Carmy, you’re a big shot in some fancy, five-star, European restaurant, what the fuck do you wanna be here for?” He asked exasperatedly. There’s a short pause, mumbling from the other side of the phone before Mikey throws a hand in the air. “Five star, three star, who gives a shit? Look, Carmen, you’re doing big things, good things. Stay in Europe. I gotta go.”

When Michael hung up, a long, tired sigh racked his body. “This would be a perfect time for—”

“One month.” You interrupted. You knew all too well where his mind was headed. He was spiraling into that dark, secluded state of mind you’d found him in just a few weeks after you met. He’d relapsed after a particularly hard day at the restaurant, something about finances and paying back a loan that he refused to tell you more about. But you’d helped him then. Picked him up, dusted him off, and called his sponsor — Started him back on the path of sobriety again. If you could help it, he’d never reach that lonely place again.

“One month.” He repeated to himself. Then, he spun around. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You walked over to him, standing between his spread legs. He immediately rested his forehead on your belly, groaning when you carded a hand through his hair. Your other hand rubbed circles into his back, the tense muscles a sharp contrast to his soft black locks. “I take it that was your brother?”

He grunted affirmatively. “Keeps askin’ to work here.”

“At The Beef?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, isn’t he a professional chef? Why don’t you let him?”

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re supposed to be on my side.” He grumbled, pulling you down to sit on his thigh.

“I am on your side.” You chuckled. You took your thumb and rubbed gently at the spot between his eyes until the frustrated crease disappeared. “‘M just saying, he’s a trained chef, this is a restaurant. I don’t get what’s not adding up for you, baby.”

Michael sighed, looking up at you. He brushed a stray hair from your face and smiled up at you. You smiled back encouragingly, patiently waiting until he found the right words. “Carm doesn’t know.” He admitted.

“Carm doesn’t know…?”

“About the painkillers. And I don’t know if I’m ready to tell him.” His brow furrowed once more, making you frown. “I mean, he’s got three Michelin stars. The kid’s a fuckin’ genius in the kitchen — he doesn’t need to be around all this shit, all my shit.”

You let his words sink in, deep in thought as you stroked his hair. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you thought about all the stories Mikey and Richie told you about the youngest Berzatto. How he could be quiet and unassuming, but, with a little encouragement, always came out of his shell around family and friends. Maybe, for Carmen, it wasn’t about the restaurant.

“Maybe he just wants to see you.” You said pensively. “I mean it’s been how long since he’s been home?”

A scoff passed Michael’s lips. “A long fuckin’ time.”

“Maybe the restaurant is a pretense. I mean, he would come work at The Beef and stuff, but maybe he just wants to see you again. Hang out with his big brother like he used to.”

His thumb stroked your thigh as he looked at you, silently admired the way you seem to come in and make all his problems melt away with a single thought, a word, a smile. “What about the whole bein’ an addict part?” He asked.

“You don’t have to tell him right away.” You suggested. “Baby steps.”

“You are too fuckin’ good to me, y’know that?” He grinned back at you. When you rolled your eyes playfully, he pinched your side, making you jolt and laugh.

You pulled his arm around your waist, settling your hands at the nape of his neck. “So, you’re letting your brother work at the restaurant?”

“How ‘bout we just start with a visit, hm? I’ll tell him to come home for a week or somethin’, stay at mine.” He compromised. “Baby steps.”

“Oh, I’m so proud of you.” You cooed playfully, pinching his stubbly cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He swatted your hands away, leaning forward to press wet kisses to the column of your neck. He smirked as you suddenly ceased your pinching, bracing your hands on his shoulders. “You should let me return the favor, sweetheart.”

“Not in your office!” You gasped when he bit down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder before soothing it with his tongue.

“Why not?” He chuckled, lifting you onto his desk. He probably should have been a little more worried about his records and papers getting folded under the swell of your ass, but all he could focus on was the small strip of fabric covering the part of you he wanted to devour. “Wouldn’t you prefer I be addicted to my girl than painkillers?”

“That’s not, ah,” You jolted above him, the sensation of his thumb pressing into your sensitive clit knocking you back to your elbows, “That’s not funny, Mikey.”

“What’s Brayden say?” He muttered, pulling your panties to the side. His fingers expertly tugs your lips apart, and he pressed a soft teasing kiss to your hood-covered button. “Humor’s my coping mechanic.”

“M-mechanism.” The correction came out in a soft moan. Just then, his words hit you — his girl. He’d never said that before. All the times you’d kissed, made out, had sex, he’d never called you his girl. You liked the way it sounded, the way it rolled off his tongue effortlessly. “Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He pulled away, his hands finding your calves as he looked at you. His brown irises held the tiniest bit of vulnerability in them, an emotion reserved for you and you only. “I mean, if you wanna be. Do you?”

You smiled and encircled his wrists, tenderly stroking his skin with your thumbs. It was a simple touch, but it made the hairs on his arm stand at attention. Strange how you always managed to do that. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” He exhaled. His large hands slid up your inner thighs, pausing at your core. With a gentle touch, he tugged your folds apart, watching the way your entrance fluttered. His mouth dropped open, and he let his saliva drip down onto your pussy, rubbing it into your clit with the pad of his thumb. “Now, get comfy, sweetheart, ‘cause I missed this pretty little pussy.”

—

“Where is it? Where is it? Where the fuck is it?”

You’d torn your apartment apart. Old storage boxes that gathered dust were now open and emptied. Your clothes were thrown all over the place. You managed to push the couch and check the floor, but you found nothing but crumbs and linty hair ties.

Tears started to blur your vision, and your chest felt heavy, like the entire world sat directly on your lungs. Your breath was just as shaky as your hands that tugged at the roots of your hair. You ran to your mess of a kitchen and scrambled for your phone, typing the familiar number from memory.

Your ex-husband answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Where’s Eli?” You heard him call your name, but his confusion was the last thing on your mind. “Benson’s stuffed cow, Eli. Where is it? I can’t find it.”

He sighed, his voice lower and more scratchy than you remembered. He must’ve been crying, too, you thought. “How am I supposed to know?”

“You helped me move out. Did you take it? I swear to god—”

“I didn’t take the damn cow.” He snapped. “Do you think I’m that selfish that I would keep it from you?”

“I didn’t call to rehash our marriage, alright? I need Eli, okay? I need him.”

The line went silent. You both knew you weren’t talking about the stuffed animal anymore. He let out a deep breath. “Have you tried therapy?”

“I don’t need to pay a bunch of money to have someone tell me I need to get over the death of our child.” You hissed, scrunching your nose at the suggestion.

“Have you been to his grave?”

You wiped your tears away, thinking about the cold, unfeeling stone that solidified your son’s death. You hadn’t seen it since the funeral. You took a shaky breath, “Do you have Eli or not?”

“I don’t.”

He tried to speak once more, but you already hung up. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe without this one piece of your son. Tears dropped onto your phone screen as you scrolled and scrolled through your contacts, finding the name you were looking for. The line rang three times before a deep voice greeted you. “What’s up?”

“I need to see you. Where can we meet?”

Hours later, Michael was walking toward his apartment building with Carmy. He’d been purposefully avoiding bringing up The Beef, and luckily Carmy didn’t push. Instead, his little brother decided to bring up the little stuffed animal that Michael had pushed into his jacket pocket. “So,” Carmy started quietly, “You startin’ a collection with that thing or…?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael laughed. He pulled the stuffed cow out of his pocket. “It’s my girl’s. Remember I told you about her son?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes she likes to talk to me about him. She brought this over to my place a few weeks ago to show me. Apparently, the kid was obsessed with cows.”

“No shit. Look at you, bein’ vulnerable.” Carmy chuckled in amazement, admiring his brother’s new relationship.

“Yeah, whatever. The, uh, anniversary of his death is coming up, and she’ll probably be wanting this, so you can meet her while you’re here if she’s feeling up to it. Sound good?”

“‘F course.”

When Michael unlocked the front door, he was met with chaos. The front door banged into the coat closet door, somehow left open with coats strewn across the floor. The rug in his living room was flipped over, and the couch was now far from the wall. Michael was only brought back to reality by the stunned woah that passed through Carmy’s lips.

Somehow, Michael knew. He wasn’t a mind reader, but he remembered that feeling. A feeling that bubbled in the pit of his stomach, traveling throughout his body until it pounded at his head. It was dread, hopelessness, not knowing how he’d find the strength to take another breath. He knew, and he needed to help you.

“Di-Did someone break into your house or something?” Carmy asked, closing the door behind him.

“Just stay here for a second, little brother, okay?” Michael’s voice was dismissive, preoccupied, as he followed the trail of despair into the kitchen.

And there you sat. Red eyes, swollen from crying. Head lulling from side to side and your heart almost numb enough to keep the darkness from creeping in and making a home, uninvited, in the hole of your chest. Your arms circled around your knees that you’d drawn up to your chest, hugging them close. Maybe, if you squeezed hard enough, you could stop grieving and move on.

Michael approached slowly, like you were a wounded animal. “Baby?”

“I couldn’t stop myself.”

“We don’t have to—”

“Please don’t hate me.”

He crouched down in front of you, steadied your head with a firm hand on your cheek. His warm, calloused skin helped to ground the thoughts in your fuzzy head. He looked you in the eyes, bold and sincere, just as you had when he relapsed. “I could never hate you. Never, you hear me?”

You paused for a moment before trying to explain. “I couldn’t find Eli, and I just- I started going fucking crazy—”

“Eli?” He asked, pulling the stuffed cow from his pocket. “Sweetheart, I have Eli. You left him the time you came over a couple weeks ago, and I was gonna take him back to yours.”

Michael thought the knowledge would console you, warm your heart enough to give him just the tiniest hint of a smile. But you just threw your head back frustratedly, the impact against the wall causing a dull pain to crash through the back of your skull. “Fuck.”

“Baby, why—”

“I’m so stupid.”

“You’re no—”

Tears gathered once more. “If I had just called you… I’m an idiot.”

“Hey,” He regained your attention, this time with both hands holding your face steady. “You’re not stupid. You’re not an idiot. You just made a mistake, ‘s all.”

“I fucking relapsed, Michael.”

“I’ve relapsed, and look at me, huh? Picture of a healthy, law-abiding citizen.”

“Michael.”

“You’ll start over. Just like I did. Here, give me your phone.” You dug around in your pocket and pulled out your phone, handing it to him. He turned the screen toward you so you could watch as he scrolled through your contacts until he found your dealer’s name. Then, with zero hesitation, he blocked the number. “See? Good as new, yeah?”

If tears could show your appreciation, you’d have cried an ocean’s worth. But the most you could do was throw your heavy arms around his shoulders and press a chaste kiss to the base of his neck. To you, nothing you could ever do or say would be enough, but to Mikey? If he could take your burdens and make them his own, carry the weight of your world on his back, he’d do it without a second thought. Your appreciation wasn’t needed — only your love. And he knew he had that.

“Uh, Mikey?” Carmen’s voice called from the living room. “What the fuck is this?”

Michael reluctantly untangled himself from you for a moment, signaling for you to stay quiet. But you knew what was in there — you’d left the needle on his coffee table. Immediately, you could hear Mikey try to calm his brother down. “Carmen, it’s not what you think.”

“You sure? ‘Cause that looks like a fuckin’ needle. Jesus Christ, are you—”

“I’m not high, Carm, just listen for a second.”

“Listen to what?” His voice got louder, more angry. “Michael, are you fuckin’ serious? You know this family has… issues and this is what you do? Fucking shit!”

“Hey, relax, alright? You’re making a big deal out of nothin’.”

“Nothing? If you’re getting high, it is a big deal. A huge fuckin’ deal.” Carm pushed his brother on the chest, hoping it’ll knock some sense into him. And Michael, he just curled his fists, restraining himself. The last thing he wanted was to lose control on his own brother. Carmen took a step toward, pointing one accusatory finger.

But before he could get a word out, a small voice, your voice, stopped him. “It’s not his.”

Icy blue eyes met yours as he took in your disheveled frame. You stood in the entrance of the living room, leaning against the threshold to hold yourself up. The high was starting to wear off a little, but you still felt the lingering effects. You tried to give him a smile, but a weary sigh passed through your lips. “Hi Carmen. I’m sorry, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

Carmen looked back and forth from you to Michael. His eyes narrowed as his breath started to even out, confusion replacing anger. “You’re the girlfriend, yeah?” He finally asked, confirming your name.

You nodded, gauging his reaction as he let it all sink in. “I had been sober for a while, so I asked your brother not to say anything. But today was- today was hard.”

“Right,” The younger brother nodded, finally taking a step back and pushing his hands deep into his pockets. “Uh, sorry for your loss, by the way.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“So, Michael isn’t… he’s not using…?” He knew the words, knew the question he wanted to ask. But he was so afraid, so terrified of what the answer might be.

You knew the answer. It would have been less than savory, admitting that Michael was also an addict and had relapsed more than once since you met. The truth was potentially earth-shattering for Carmen and Michael alike. You glanced over at Michael, at how he hid the fear from his eyes. Still, you see it. In the way his hand flexed at his side, and how he refused to look in your direction. It’s almost like he knew what was coming if you told the truth, that he might have lost his brother for good.

That fear broke your heart. So, you lied. Took your blame and a little on the side. “No. No, just me.”

You excused yourself back to the kitchen to hide your tears. You hugged Eli close, burying the stuffed animal under your nose.

It smelled like Michael.

—

That fucking fork.

Fuck forks. Fuck Christmas dinner. Fuck all seven fishes. Fuck Pete’s eighth fish. And, above all, fuck Michael.

Chaos ensued after Michael gave in to his self-destructive tendencies. He all but flipped the table over in an effort to fight. Fak was making sure Sugar and Pete got out unscathed. Carmy practically begged his mother to stay out of it, and she only relented when her eldest son started making taunting braying noises — she retreated to the kitchen with a cigarette and the bottle of merlot in hand.

You gave up trying to help Michael calm down when he wretched himself from your grip, nearly knocking you into a wall in the process. Richie rushed over to help steady you, and Carmy, over all the chaos, called your name, “Yo, are you alright?”

“Peachy.” You called back sarcastically, rubbing your sore arm.

Carmen then turned his attention to his brother. “Michael, shut the fuck up for two seconds, for fuck’s sake! If you don’t calm down, you’re gonna hurt someone!”

“Kinda the point, little brother.” Michael’s eye twitched as he glared at Lee. He tried once more to push past Jimmy to no avail.

“Yeah? Was hurting your girl part of the point, smartass?”

Michael turned to you, the anger in his eyes slowly overtaken with concern. He hadn’t meant to push you; he didn’t even know you were one of the people trying to hold him back. But that didn’t take back his actions. Your gaze went cold as you pulled away from Richie, pushing Michael hard on the chest. “I’m not his fucking girl anymore.”

Then, you hightailed it out of the house. Everyone went silent as you peeled out of the driveway, rubber squealing against pavement.

Richie watched Michael carefully, noticing how his brow furrowed and his chest heaved. He took a step toward him and dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Mikey,” Richie warned, “Don’t do anything stupid.” Michael pulled away and stomped his way up the stairs, leaving Richie to call after his best friend from the dining room.

Over Richie’s voice, Carmen could hear his mother sobbing in the kitchen followed by the soft glug of wine as she turned the bottle up. And immediately, he followed after his older brother. Richie tried to stop him, “Cousin, he just needs a minute.”

“Yeah, just a minute?” Carmen replied dismissively. “Fuck off, cousin, he’s not a baby.”

He pushed open every door looking for Mikey. Finally, he came upon one door that wouldn’t budge, locked from the inside. Carmy pounded on the bathroom door. “Yo, what the fuck was that?”

“Go away, Carmen.” Mikey paced the bathroom floor, hands pulling at the roots of his hair. He wished he had an answer for his brother, but he came up short. Maybe it was pride, or ego, or his innate tendency to self-destruct, he couldn’t choose. So he just paced the floor, avoiding the sight of his own reflection.

“Mikey, you need to go downstairs and fix this shit, alright?” Carmy continued. “Ma’s drinking herself stupid, Sug’s a mess, your girl just fuckin’ left, c’mon man.”

“Hey, you think I don’t know that?” The older brother hissed.

He braced himself on the sink, finally looking up into the mirror. He looked disheveled, angry. His hair was messy from pulling at it, and the whites of his eyes had a red tint to them. One prominent vein pulsed in his forehead, and suddenly, the need set in.

His head is fuzzy, brain pounding at his skull. So many thoughts, too many, clouding his head. He lifted his hand to push away a few strands of his hair, limp with sweat, and he realized that his hand was shaking. Even as he closed his fingers into a fist, it trembled like an earthquake. He blinked hard, eyes scrambling as he tried to think of a quick solution, a way to gather himself before he faced his little brother again.

Carmy was quiet as he started to think maybe he should have listened to Richie. “Mikey?”

No answer.

“Mikey, look, I’m sorry—”

The door flung open, and Carmy studied him. His hair was pushed back. His eyes were red, but Carmy assumed Mikey must’ve been crying. Everything seemed right, but there was something he couldn’t place. Something about his big brother that was very wrong. “Nothing to be sorry for, Carm.” Michael told him, one big hand on his shoulder. “I gotta go.”

When Michael started booking it downstairs, Carmy was quick on his trail. “Wait, go? Go where?”

Michael responded with a call of your name, “Gotta make sure she’s good.”

Carmy ran a hand through his golden brown locks as he followed his older brother out the front door. Their sister noticed the argument and followed them out the door, “Whoa, hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, Sug, go back inside.” Michael stopped for the briefest moment to turn around and place a kiss on his sister’s forehead.

“He’s leavin’.” Carmy sighed frustratedly.

“He’s leaving?” Sugar turned to Michael. “You’re leaving?”

“Fuckin’ snitch.” Michael mumbled under his breath. He squeezed Sug’s arm with a tight smile, “I’m just goin’ to find my girl, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

“How are you even going to find her?” Carm scoffed.

“You know her password, right?” Sug asked her eldest brother. “I wouldn’t normally say this, but you could track her phone. Here, give me yours.”

“What about Ma?” Carmy threw his arms up in defeat. Michael was the one who started all that mess, and now that it was time to pick up the pieces, where did he go? Chasing you. Like always, Carm thought to himself. “You’re the only one who can get through to her when she’s all…” He waved his hands around as if the devastating words he was looking for would magically appear.

“Well, you’re home, ain’t you? She missed you — just sit with her till I get back, alright? I gotta go.”

And just as quickly Mikey was off too, running toward the closest train station.

If there were ever a time for oxy, that would’ve been it. But instead, you drove and drove and drove until the tank was damn near empty. You pulled into a parking lot and called your sponsor. She talked you down, persuading you to delete your dealer’s contact information in your phone. When the long conversation was over, you were still angry, furious even, but you’d at least lost interest in relapsing.

Knock knock knock.

You jumped in the driver’s seat when calloused knuckles tapped on the car window. Michael wasted no time in starting an argument. “What the hell were you thinkin’, leavin’ like that?” He yelled, voice only slightly muffled by the barrier.

“How did you even find me?”

“Sugar showed me how to track your phone.”

“You tracked my phone?”

“Open the fuckin’ door.”

You pushed the door open and got out of the car, deciding your best course of action would be to walk away from him. “Leave me alone, Michael.”

“Where are you goin’?” He was quick to follow you as you walked down the street, just a few strides behind.

“Leave me alone.”

“What’s the plan here, huh?” He asked. “You just gonna keep walkin’ till your feet fall off?”

“No, just till I’m away from you, Michael.” You retorted coldly.

“Hey, stop calling me that.”

“That’s your name!”

“Not to you! To you it’s Mikey, or baby, or my love, not fuckin’ Michael!”

“Fuck you, Michael!” You caught him off guard when you spun around, poking your index finger into his chest. “You couldn’t just let it be. You had to ruin Christmas for the whole fucking family!”

“Why do you care so much, huh?”

“Why do I— Jesus, do you even hear yourself? You do nothing but ruin shit for yourself for no goddamn reason! No one forced you to throw that fork!”

Michael scoffed and ran his hand over his lips, his warm breath evaporating into the cold air as he raised his voice again. “So we’re gonna pretend that’s why you’re upset? Because of the fork?”

“I’m upset because you ruined any chance at having a good Christmas with our family!”

“They’re not our fuckin’ family.” He laughed, though no traces of humor could be found in his eyes. “They’re mine! Okay? I’m the fuckin’ Berzatto, not you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. You parted your lips to retort, but he just kept going, slicing your heart in two with expert precision.

“You wanna act like the- the chaos bothers you, but you thrive on that shit — You’re just in a shitty mood because you miss your own family, and now that you can’t replace them with mine, you want some fuckin’ oxy to ease the pain, ain’t that right?”

Smack!

You’d never hit Michael before, never wanted to. Like any couple, you had your share of fights and passive aggressive comments. One thing you two never did, though, was weaponize your addictions against each other. It was an unsaid invisible line that had never been crossed until now. Michael Berzatto, the man you loved more than life itself, had never been so mean. At least not to you.

It happened faster than you expected, your small hand reaching up and slapping across his stubbly cheek. He just stood there, eyes dark and slightly angry, but you weren’t afraid. You were furious, hot tears filling your eyes. “Fuck you.”

You slapped him again. And again. Then, you beat on his chest with your fists. Michael started trying to swat your hands away, but when that proved ineffective, he caught your wrists in his hands, yanking you into a nearby alley, away from the night’s few prying eyes.

“Stop, stop.” He grunted when you landed another smack to his head, finally pinning you up against the nearby brick wall by your wrists. “Stop.”

“I hate you.” You spat.

“No, you don’t.”

You continued to fight against his grip, but he was strong and steady, keeping you in place as you continued to tell him how much you despise him. He knew he was wrong, but he refused to say it. After all the shit that went down that night with his family, with you, he felt like he was going crazy. It was like he was abandoned in the middle of the ocean in a boat with a tiny hole. And even though the hole was small, it was so methodically cut that water was pouring in like a faucet, and the boat was sinking. So he grabbed onto the only lifeline he was certain would be there: you.

You, with the most beautiful eyes that were now filled with angry tears. You, the hero of all his dreams and the victim in all his nightmares. You, whose heart was so broken, so crumbled when he met you, yet still managed to love him with all your being.

He loved you.

It all hit him at once, and he gently pressed his lips to yours. You turned your head away from him, rasping out your hatred once more. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.” His voice was deep and rough, but the tone was soft. Was he even talking to you?

“Yes, I fucking do.”

His lips trailed across your jawline, wet kisses placed on his path. “No, you don’t.”

You hated how easily he was able to do this to you, like pushing a button. You were supposed to be angry with him. You were angry with him. But your body didn’t care about the argument. Your body slowly gave up the fight against his grip, wanting the heat that his touch produced, your emotions be damned. A few tears fell from your eyes just as a soft moan slipped past your lips, an instinctive response to the way Michael’s body pressed yours against the wall, his growing length pressed into your hip.

He slipped a leg between yours, pushing his denim-covered thigh into your pussy. You could feel a wave of arousal soaking your panties. “You’re mean, Michael.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He admitted quietly.

He used his grip on your wrists to gently pull your hands to your breasts. He pressed your hands in before covering them with his own, helping you knead the sensitive flesh. Even beneath your layers, you could feel his touch, and it made you whimper. His deft thumb ran over your hardening nipples, and a soft groan tumbled from his lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you noted his acknowledgement. And his lack of apology.

He kept up his movements, moving your hands to squeeze your breasts, pressing his thigh into your weeping pussy. Somewhere along the way, your hips began to rock back and forth on him. His brown eyes never left yours, even as you cried. It was strange, how your heart hurt so badly that tears fell freely down your face, but your body was pushed closer and closer to the edge.

Still, you gasped for breath as the pleasure began to creep out of your core. “Mi- Mikey,” You moaned. “Please!”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. Let it all out.”

And it all came out at once, sobs pushing past your lips as euphoria crashed over your body in waves. You clenched around nothing, head tipping back to hit the brick wall. But you never felt the cold brick — one of Michael’s hands left your breast to cup the back of your head, the protective gesture juxtaposing the unending push of his thigh into your pussy to help ride out your orgasm.

Even as your orgasm faded away, your hips continued to buck against him. Your hands found a new home on his broad chest, trailing down, down, down until you felt the leather of his brown belt. You wasted no time in unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, sliding the zipper down so you could easily reach into his briefs and pull his cock out. He moaned at your firm grasp, hips bucking into your touch.

Everything moved much quicker now, more desperate than before. You stroked his cock, spreading his precum along the shaft. His forehead pressed against yours as he stared at the way your smaller hand worked him over, twisting over the head on every downward stroke. “Fuck, that’s good.” He groaned.

“Help me.” You whined needily as you thrust your hips against his thigh once more, hoping he’d get the message.

He nodded quickly, kneeling down in front of you. His big hands slide up your thighs under your jean skirt, flipping the rough fabric up over your belly. Your legs were covered by sheer black stockings, a layer of protection from the cold winter chill. But neither of you could bear to wait, to take them off properly. He tore a large hole in the crotch and pushed your panties to the side, muttering curses at how your arousal shone in the moonlight.

“Perfect fuckin’ cunt, sweetheart.” He pushed his index finger through your swollen lips, collecting your juices before slipping into your twitching hole. “Can you take two for me?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He pushed his middle finger in on the second thrust, curving them to press on that spongy spot on your upper wall that you can never reach yourself. You cried out his name, and your back arched off the wall. His fingers were bigger than yours, thicker too, but they still didn’t fill you the way that you needed.

You whimpered when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking firm and hard. “Want your cock, Mikey. Want- oh shit!”

Your orgasm was hard and unexpected, pulling you under before you could even tell him to fuck you. Your legs buckled, and you buried your hands in his thick, black hair to ground yourself. A muffled moan came from between your legs when you tugged on the roots, trying to pull him off your sensitive clit.

He finally relented, pulling away from you and pushing his fingers, soaked in you, into his mouth. He licked them clean without hesitation, only stopping when you tugged on his wrist. You pulled him in by his shirt, kissing him. It was deep and passionate, proving what you both knew to be true.

You didn’t hate him. Maybe you wanted to, but you didn’t. Or maybe couldn’t is the better word.

He cupped your face with both his large hands, wiping away any remnants of tears from your earlier sobs. His tongue licked into your mouth as you moaned, tasting the sweet tang of your juices in his saliva. You reached down to stroke his cock again, and he crowded you closer to the wall. “Want you inside.” You whispered.

“I know, baby.”

His open jeans impeded his efforts to get closer to you, buttons, zipper, and belt now in the way. His hands hurried to push the waistband of his open jeans down and out, ignoring how the frosty air raised goosebumps on his skin. His belt buckle jingled loudly, and something clattered to the pavement, but you could only focus on getting him inside you. His hands returned to your face, making you keep your gaze on his.

You pushed his cock through your pussy lips, let your arousal messily coat his shaft until it was all over your inner thighs. Both your panting was the only thing you could hear over the wet sounds of his length sliding between your swollen lips. You whined when the head of his dick bumped against your clit.

“Guide me in, sweetheart.” He told you, eyes locked on yours. “Take what you want.”

His head, already weeping with precum, nudged at your entrance, and you canted your hips up until the first few inches sunk inside. You lifted your leg around his hip in an attempt to take more of him, but it wasn’t enough on your own. Finally, he pressed forward, fully sheathing his cock within your soft walls. All the while, Michael held your face between his hands, gazing deep into your eyes as you whimpered. “There you are.” He groaned softly. “My girl.”

Your heart twisted at his words. How could he even say that? After saying the most vile things to you, what made him believe that you’d still be his? He nudged his hips forward a bit, and the tip just barely kissed your cervix, shooting a strange blend of pain and pleasure up your spine. You shook your head, hands grasping at his arms to steady yourself. “No, I… I- fuck, Mikey, I hate you so much.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” You moaned pathetically, still seething, angry enough to lie through your teeth just to give him a glimpse of the pain he caused you. Your nails dug into the thick fabric of his coat as he began to move, thrusting in and out of your cunt. The alley practically echoed with squelching sounds, and anyone walking by would know what was going on in those shadows. But neither of you could bring yourselves to care, lips falling apart as your sensitive walls clamped down on his length.

“You don’t fuckin’ say that to me.” He repeated with a grunt, leaving the tiniest pat on your cheek to regain the attention of your eyes rolling in pleasure. “You love me. Know you do. ‘S — shit, you’re so tight — ‘s the only thing I’m goddamn sure of, you hear me?”

One hand left your cheek to wrap around your thigh, pulling your leg higher around his hip. He thrusted again with renewed strength before looking down to where you both connected. The sight made the pit of his stomach flip deliciously: the slightly tanned base of his cock coated with a creamy white ring, little strands of your wetness dangling between you both when he dared to pull his hips away. “Fuckin’ takin’ my dick so well, baby.” He bit his lip, his voice sounding almost entranced. “Squeezin’ like you don’t want me to leave.”

“Good thing I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He continued, groaning when your hands slid up his back and into his hair. You pulled hard, and his thrusts faltered ever so slightly. His other hand left your cheek to brace himself against the wall, and his head fell into the crook of your neck, puffs of his hot breath warming your skin.

“You can’t keep doing this shit, M-Mikey. Can’t take your shit out on me.” You mewled as he adjusted his grip on you, pushing you closer to the wall. He left you no space to squirm when his hips started to move faster, his cock bullying its way in and out of your soft, puffy folds to nudge against the spongy spot on your upper wall. You cried out as that unique sensation shot pleasure to every nerve ending in your body, “Fuck, right there!”

“I got you, sweetheart, that’s it.” He responded in kind, adjusting his stance just right so he could drag the notch of his cockhead along your G-spot with every thrust. “Right there, yeah?”

“Oh my god, don’t stop. You’re gonna make me come!”

Michael lifted his head from your neck, meeting your eyes again. They were dark, glazed over, as he slowed his hips, still moving but not enough to finish you off. You felt his cock twitch inside you, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he flooded your insides with his release, but he wanted to hear you say it: he wanted you to take back your words. “Say you don’t mean it.”

Your pussy fluttered around him in tandem with the whine spilling past your lips. “Mikey—”

“You don’t hate me. You love me. Say it.” He punctuated each sentence with a nudge against your G-spot, soft and tempting.

“N-no, you,” You heaved out a shuddering breath when his fingertips met your swollen clit, rubbing in tight, slow, torturous circles. “You’re being unfair. You- oh my god, yes - you can’t be n-nasty to me and—”

“Just say it for me, baby.” He mumbled against your lips. He was practically begging you to take it back, but, of course, Michael Berzatto would never stoop to such lengths. So, he kept rubbing your clit and nudging your G-spot, punching the breath out of you with his thick cock. “Promise I’ll make you come. I’ll make it so fuckin’ good for you. Just need to hear it.”

And, of course, as you always did, you gave in. “I didn’t mean it.” You admitted breathlessly. “I love you.”

The tension visibly rolled off his shoulders as his head dropped to your breasts, pounding your cunt as you moaned beneath him. “Fuck, I love you, too, baby. Love you so fuckin’ much, it hurts.” He groaned into your skin.

“Mikey, ‘m close!” You gasped, the assault on your cunt and clit too much to bear.

“Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, sweetheart.” He huffed, nails digging into your thighs, your stockings providing no refuge from the dull pain. “Show me how much you love me, c’mon.”

And then, white-hot, earth-shattering pleasure. You nearly blacked out as you clenched around him, stars burning into supernovas behind your eyelids. Your fluttering walls begged him to stay buried deep inside you. Back arched against the wall, your breasts pushed closer to his face, and he didn’t bother lifting up, resting his cheek on the soft fabric that covered your warm flesh as he fell over the edge with you. He groaned out your name as he shot thick spurts of his warm, sticky come inside you. He knew he’d never come so much in his life, only lifting his head when he heard louder squelching noises from where you both connected.

As he thrusted, slow and deep, the white creamy juices that once only circled the base of his cock dribbled out of your pussy, around the sides of his length. A bit slid down your thigh, and his eyes rolled back, reveling in how his balls pulsed with pleasure at the sight.

His whole body relaxed as you both rode out the waves of pleasure. As you came down from your orgasm, your head lolled to the side. Your eyes fluttered closed as you cherished his weight on top of you. When your eyes opened, your vision was still a tad blurry, but you blinked through the fog.

There was something bright on the ground. It was small, cylindrical, and… red? No — it was orange.

“What’s that?”

Michael hummed in response, his speech a bit slurred. “What’s what?”

He lifted his head from your breasts, following your gaze. And he froze, eyes stuck on the tiny bottle of painkillers he’d swiped from his mother’s medicine cabinet after you left. It must have fallen from his pocket when he opened his jeans.

“Are you high right now?”

Michael almost cringed at your whisper. It was different from all your yelling and slapping and arguing before. You were just mad then, and he knew that he could win you over like he had a million times before. This time, it was sad. Cold. Disappointed.

He wasn’t sure if he could come back from that.

You wriggled beneath him until you could push him away, watching him stumble a bit. He was no longer standing tall, a bit slouched, and he swayed aimlessly from side to side. With the way he was fucking you, his blood was pumping, so they must just now be kicking in at full force. You knew — you were certain of the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Michael. Are you high?”

He had just enough of his wits left to take a step toward you with remorse in his voice, “Baby, I—”

You held up a hand, taking a step away from him. “I… I’ll call Richie. You can stay with him tonight. Or your mother, I don’t….” He called your name again as you fixed your panties and pulled your skirt back down over your ass. “I can’t do this with you right now, Michael.”

You waited for a moment. For what, you weren’t sure. An apology? An explanation? An unremorseful tirade? Part of you would have even been okay with a fight.

But he just leaned against the brick wall, unable to support himself on his own any longer. He clumsily tucked his softening length back into his pants and mumbled his short reply, a correction. “‘S Mikey.”

Snow began to fall in time with your tears. You drew your coat closer, and turned your back to him. “I’m going home.”

—

“Besides work, how’ve you been feeling?”

“I don’t know, just extremely tired all the time. But what else is new, y’know?”

“And how’s your love life?”

“This is your way of asking if I’m still sleeping with Michael.”

“Well, are you?”

You let out a scoff as you adjusted your position on the couch. Your therapist, Deborah, watched you with knowing eyes as you sat against the arm of the couch, offhandedly pulling a throw pillow into your lap. Your index finger wrapped endlessly around the fringe as you carefully mulled over your words. “Well, I haven’t relapsed in almost a year and a half.”

“That’s good.” She smiled. “Also not what I asked.”

“Okay, I’m still seeing him. Or, sleeping with him.”

“So, it’s not a relationship?”

“No.”

“Do you want it to be?”

You paused. You thought about the possibilities of what could have been — of what once had been. Dates, family dinners, shared apartment. Maybe you’d have gotten married and had kids. You’d have brought them up to be better, to break the cycle of whatever crazy shit made you both the way you were. But you also had to accept who he was.

You replied, “No.” It was a lie, and Deborah knew that, but you played it off anyway.

She leaned forward, setting her notepad down and resting her elbows on her knees. “Is he still using?”

You nodded reluctantly, “He says he’s not. And he hasn't been high around me since the, uh, Christmas dinner thing last year. But I’ve seen it… pill bottles lying around. Prescriptions that aren’t his.”

You trail off, once again running through what might have been. Would Michael still be sober if you stayed with him? Were you the only thing keeping him from losing his mind? Were you to blame? Your finger slowed around the fringe, heart aching in your chest.

Deborah gave you a cautionary look, like she could read your mind. “Stop it.”

You sighed, “But what if—”

“Michael is a grown man. His sobriety is his responsibility, and his alone. Just like yours.” She repeated the same words that she did almost every session, reminding you that you were not at fault. “I know it hurts, and it’s okay to let it, but you cannot blame yourself for his decisions.”

“I just- I miss him. How he used to be. But if this is all I can get…” You feel pathetic for even admitting it, but it was the truth.

Deborah watched you carefully, knowing that there wasn’t much she could do but advise you. You were going to see Michael whether it was a good idea or not. So she figured you should know what you’re really getting into. She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “Do you know what codependency is?”

Your brow furrowed, “No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“It’s when two people depend on each other in an unhealthy way. Usually, one person learns to placate the other, keep them calm, while the other person continues unhealthy behaviors because they know their partner will be there to help them when it gets too bad.”

“Okay, I see where you’re going here. It’s not healthy for me—”

“It’s not healthy for either of you.” She clarified. “I know you love Michael. And I’m sure he loves you as much as he can. But I think the best way for you to help him and yourself — if that’s what you want to do — is to stop enabling him.”

Stop enabling him.

That’s all you could think about for the rest of the session. Those three words terrified you. How would he react if you put your foot down, if you said this needed to stop? What if he never spoke to you again? You loved him, the man that put your heart back together when it was in a million shattered pieces. You were lost, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Twenty minutes later, when you left your therapist’s office, your phone dinged with a text. It was Michael, as usual;

u busy tonight? wanna see u.

And of course, you gave in. But not without thinking up a plan. You took a deep breath and typed out your reply:

meet me in the parking lot off fourth street at 7:30. wanna take u somewhere.

And you tried to hold out, you really did. But no sooner than you arrived, Michael’s lips were on your neck, sucking and licking, making it hard to think. Before you could even remember Deborah’s warning, you were in the backseat of his car, fogging up the windows as you bounced up and down on his cock. “‘M gonna come!” You warned him.

“Go on, sweetheart.” He encouraged with a groan, strong hands plastered flat against your sweaty back. “Tight cunt’s gonna pull the come right outta me.”

“Fuck, ‘m coming, Mikey!” You whimpered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. His hands gripped your hips, grinding you down on his cock to ride out your orgasm. Your clit bumped deliciously against his pubic bone, and your walls clamped down even tighter, throwing Michael headfirst into his own orgasm.

“Holy- oh my god, don’t fuckin’ stop, baby.” He moaned, throwing his head back. His hips pushed up of their own accord, his thick cock twitching inside you as he shot his come as deep as he could go. He brought one hand down on your ass as you thrusted weakly against him. “That’s it, sweetheart, get every drop.”

You rested your weight on him, your sweaty forehead against the leather headrest. You both took a silent moment to catch your breath, regroup after the explosive sex you always seem to have. Turns out, even with all your disagreements, the attraction never stopped. His hands rubbed up and down your back, almost lulling you to sleep until he pressed his fingertips a little harder, and a moan passed through your lips, eyes shooting open. Michael chuckled deeply and kneaded at that spot, “What was that?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” You admitted, tension rolling away as he worked at the knot. “My back has been killing me lately.”

“Work?”

“Maybe, but ‘m not sure. Just hurts sometimes.”

“Lucky for you, you got your own personal masseuse.”

You snorted, “My hero.”

His hand smacked against your backside playfully, making you jolt on his lap with a giggle. He laughed along with you, “Watch that tone, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, laughter dying down as your eyes haphazardly scanned the ledge of the back window. And next to an empty cup, you saw a piece of paper. A prescription made for Natalie Berzatto.

And it hit you like a train. You couldn’t keep doing this. It wasn’t fair to either of you. You couldn’t keep taking the best parts of him and ignoring the fact that he needed help. And he couldn’t expect you to be around at his beck and call forever. The time for playing pretend was over — you needed to take a real step for the both of you.

You swung your leg over his lap and sat next to him, scanning the car floor for your panties. “Get dressed. I still have somewhere to take you.”

“You kidnappin’ me, baby?”

“It’s only kidnapping if you don’t go willingly.”

Minutes later, you were walking into a nearby building. The entire walk, he asked and asked where you were taking him, but you never answered, merely saying it was a surprise. When he walked in, and his eyes fell on the folded chairs set in a circle, his smile dropped. Without another word, he turned around and walked out.

“Michael, wait!” You were close behind, following him back outside into the hot, sticky summer night. “Just listen to me, okay?”

“So- so you think ‘cause you’re sober now you can do whatever the fuck you want, is that it?” He asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“I’m just trying to help—”

“I told you I wasn’t fuckin’ using anymore!” He yelled at you.

“And I know that you are!” You snapped back. “I’ve seen the empty pill bottles, Michael. All the prescriptions that are never in your own fucking name. I’m not stupid!”

“Stupid enough to keep comin’ back!” He spat at you. “W-what changed, huh? Is it the therapist? ‘Cause before her, you were happy to just fuck me and leave, pills be damned.”

“Oh, fuck that, Michael.” You laughed humorlessly, pushing at his chest. “You are not doing that anymore, being a dick to me because you can’t accept the truth.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what would the truth be, sweetheart? Fuckin’ enlighten me.”

“That you’re gonna fucking destroy yourself if you don’t get help!” You shouted. Tears were filling your eyes at the thought, and you realized you weren’t even angry. You were desperate — desperate for him to do something, anything to help himself. “You- you push everyone that loves you away! Me, Richie, Carm—”

“You leave Carmen outta this.” He grumbled, looking away to avoid seeing the tears that fell down your face.

“Everyone that cares, everyone that tries to help, you just treat them like complete and utter shit because you don’t know how to ask for help! But you don’t have to fucking ask, Mikey — we’re offering! You just have to take it and do something before it’s too late!”

Michael was quiet, eerily so. There was a time when you would’ve been able to read him like a book, to say exactly what he needed to hear. But you couldn’t anymore. And that scared you.

You stepped forward with a sniffle, placing your hands on his biceps. You rubbed up and down in a way that you hoped was comforting. “Just one meeting. That’s all I’m asking.”

When he finally looked back at you, his chest tightened at the sight. Your beautiful eyes, filled with tears and a shimmer of hope that he might agree. And part of him wanted to. Some inkling deep down inside of him wanted to wipe your tears, take your hand, and march into that meeting determined to stay sober for the rest of his life. If only to settle down and make a life with you, one that he could be proud of.

But, as always, something stopped him. A small doubt creeping in, telling him he couldn’t do it. That he wasn’t capable of normality, that it wasn’t in his blood. He was drowning in sorrow and pity, and he was willing to accept that darkness — welcomed it, even. But what kind of man would he be if he dragged you under with him? He cupped your face in his hands, shaking his head. Your hands slid up his forearms and stopped on his wrists with a desperate iron grip. His voice was barely a whisper, “I’m not going to that meeting, baby.”

“Mikey, please.” You begged. “I love you.”

“You can’t fix me.” He hoped you heard what he meant to say: I love you, too.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and responded in kind. It was gentle, melancholic, but it was his way of saying goodbye. His way of expressing the love that he could never quite show you in the way you deserved. But the love was there nonetheless, tearing at his heart until his chest was hollow, nothing left but the memory of you.

When he pulled away, he had to pry your hands off him and take a step back. He gave you a sad smile, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Enjoy your meeting, sweetheart.”

He turned around and walked away. A few tears escaped his eyes when he heard a heart-wrenching sob pass through your lips. He wiped them away quickly and tried to walk faster.

He was gone the next month.

—

“We’re closed!”

“Maybe you should lock the door then.”

You were still in your black dress and heels when you arrived at The Beef. No one knew where Carmy was, but you’d had an idea in the back of your head. You weren’t sure if you were right, but it only made sense that he’d be at his brother’s restaurant.

Well, at the restaurant his brother left him.

When Carmy emerged from the back, he stared, his eyes red from crying. “How’d you know I was here?”

You shrugged, “This is usually where I’d find him too.”

“Yo, please, please don’t come in here with that sentimental bullshit, alright?” He said, his tone sharp and mean. “If I wanted to hear about how great he was, I would’ve gone to the funeral.”

“You should’ve been there anyway. He was your brother.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, Carmen, I didn’t come here to pick a fight.”

He turned on his heel, stomping back to the kitchen, and you followed close behind. “What did you come for then?”

“We’re going to a meeting.”

Carmy kneeled on the floor, next to a bucket of soapy water and a wet rag. He picked it up and wrung it out with a grunt. “What are you talking about?”

“Would you prefer NA or AA?”

He was scrubbing at the same dirty spot that he had for the last hour and a half, but your question made him pause. He looked up at you in disbelief, letting out a scoff. “Excuse me?”

“There are two NA groups I know of, but only one AA, and it starts soon so—”

“Y’know, you’re the addict here, not me.”

“Which is exactly how I know you need to go to a meeting.”

He was seething, an angry red steadily creeping from his neck to his face, one prominent vein bulging in his forehead as he shouted at you. “Goddamnit, I don’t need to go to a fuckin’ Al-Anon meeting! I’m just grieving, alright?!”

“Carm—”

“No, fuck that. The whole reason I didn’t go to the funeral is so I wouldn’t be around that bullshit! You know how Ma gets, and without Mikey here to fix it…”

“Michael was never gonna fix your mother.”

“Right, ‘cause he was too busy trying to fix you.” Carmen let out a harsh chuckle. “‘I’ll call you back, my girl needs me. Hold on, my girl is on the other line.’ Instead of fixing his restaurant, or-or helping his mother, he was making sure you were on the right track. Making sure you don’t relapse.”

Your heart stopped. Your blood burned. You wanted to let loose on him then and there. Yell and shout and cry about how Michael could barely fix himself, let alone you. You wanted to tell Carmen that it was you who desperately tried to fix Michael, make him sober, turn him into the man you knew he could be. Or at least, the one you believed he could be. The man Carm thought he was.

It baffled you how the entire family managed to hide the fact that Michael was an addict from Carmy. But it was a group effort, a last ditch effort to give him the big brother he’d always wanted, the one he remembered from his childhood. He was truly blind to Michael’s true nature, but you knew it was partially because Carmy had his own thing going on. You could see it behind his eyes — it was the same look Michael got before he did something self-destructive.

Instead of yelling or screaming like you wanted to, tears filled your eyes. You knew from experience the Berzatto men could be mean, especially under pressure, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Unlike earlier in the day, you couldn’t hold them back. Tears fell freely down your cheeks.

But unlike when his older brother spat unkind words your way, Carmy didn’t try to distract you from it or talk his way out of it. No, his face dropped when he realized the severity of his words. He watched as your knees buckled beneath you, moving across the floor to catch you once an ugly sob wretched its way past your lips. He held you as your body shook with the emotions that you’d been ignoring all day. One of his hands rested on the back of your head, stroking your hair with his thumb. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, okay?”

You don’t know how long you cried. You just sobbed and sobbed until there was nothing left, until you felt completely and utterly empty. Luckily, Carmy helped you sit on the floor. He sat next to you, both your backs against the dishwasher. It creaked loudly under your combined weight, and you sat up. “Sorry,” You croaked out. “Should I not lean on that?”

Carmy chuckled quietly and drew his knees up, resting his forearms atop them. “Piece of shit doesn’t work, don’t worry about it.”

The tiniest smile tugged at your lips as you leaned back and wiped away your tears. “Good. For me, I mean. Sucks for business though.”

His smile faded away as he watched you wipe your tears. His stomach turned uncomfortably at the fact that he’d been so mean, that he’d made you cry. He knew, of course, that he wasn’t the only reason you broke down, but he didn’t like that he piled on. He called your name softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Carm, it’s ok—”

“It’s not.” He shook his head, blue eyes piercing into yours. “You were right. Michael couldn’t fix Ma’s problems. And you didn’t need him to fix yours. He was lucky to have you.”

A sigh passed through your lips, and for the first time in a long time, tension rolled off your shoulders. “He loved you, Carmen.”

He fought back a sad smile, “He loved you, too.”

You paused, tears of grief filling your eyes before you remembered what you came for. You took a deep breath and wiped at your cheeks. “I need to show you something.”

His brow furrowed, turning a bit to face you, resting one leg on the ground. “What?”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and pulled off the case. You lifted the strip of film from your rubber case, handing it to him. “This is why I need to go to an NA meeting tonight. Figured you could go with me.”

A hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes, Carmy let out a single quiet sob as he stared at the two black and white ultrasounds. “Is it…?”

You nodded, “They are.”

“They?”

“Turns out, you can’t forget to take birth control for even one day. I thought taking two the next day might help, but here we are.” Chuckling quietly, you wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall once more. “I’m not… I’m not asking you to replace Mikey or be their dad or anything. It would… y’know, just be nice not to do this by my—”

“Woah, hey,” He stopped you with a shake of his head, not even wanting you to think like that. “You’re family, period. Have been since Michael brought you home. And always will be. Alright?”

Finally, a sliver of hope. You smiled, “Yeah.”

“Good.” He handed the photos back to you gently, as if one wrong move would ruin them. Then, he stood on his feet, wiping a hand over his face and taking a deep breath. He offered his hand. “Now, come on. I’m taking you to your meeting.”

#michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fx #the bear smut #sorry in advance for this one lol

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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

Text

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 2)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Cocaine Hangover and Attending Sobriety Resources

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Rafe wakes up the next day remembering his mistakes and realizes he needs to change.

Masterlist

The massive headache he has from the cocaine he did last night makes him question why he does it in the first place. Jaw pain is not unusual for him thanks to the substance, but it still doesn’t mean it can’t hurt. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and it helps him clearly see the sweat stain on his pillow. The deep breath he takes brings clarity to last night's events; panic starts to weave through his mind. Y/N is never going to forgive him for going to her house while high and saying what he said. The fury she held is definitely not one he want to meet in court, especially since he built a case against himself. This stress needs to leave him and he knows one substance that would help him relax. It’s the same thing he turns to every time he argues with his dad. He sniffles in an attempt to bring moisture back to his nose, but it doesn’t work. His hand shakes as he tries to open the ziplock bag filled with the white substance.

And then he thinks about those small blue eyes that match his eyes. The excitement in her voice as she saw her mother. The way her beautiful hair blew in the wind as she ran around the counter. It stops his fingers from going any further. If he keeps turning toward drugs, he will never get to see her again. She’ll never get to know that he is her daddy and that he cares for her even if she doesn’t him. She’ll never get to tell him about her favourite TV shows or food. He wonders if she needs a night light to go to sleep and how many stories she likes to read before bedtime. He doesn’t even know his own daughter’s name.

He needs to change because he wants to find all that stuff out. He told Y/N that he would’ve changed if he knew about their daughter and he is going to prove that he truly meant it. The first thing he needs to do is get a therapist and get clean. That’s his new goal. All he wants as of now is to be the best father he can be to the little girl.

——

“I’m Rafe and I am an addict.” The other members of the meeting all retort with the typical anonymous meeting greeting. He didn’t think he had a problem, but his therapist begged to differ. She says that if he really wants to be in his daughter’s life, he has to show Y/N that drugs aren’t more important than their daughter. “I started using it when I was in my senior year of high school,” he starts to explain. “Most parents say they don’t have a favourite when their kids ask, but my dad was different. It was always clear to me that my younger sister was his favourite. No matter what I did, Sarah was the perfect one and I was the worthless one. Coke was the only thing that made his tiny voice in my head stop.” The group gives him sympathetic nods. They wait for him to continue, “I think that’s all I’m going to share for today. That’s all I need to get off of my chest right now.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Diana thanks. The meeting goes on and Rafe listens intently to the others’ stories. Listening to their journeys, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the signs of his own addiction before. The clacking of chairs folding finds his ears as he helps clean up. He doesn’t hear Diana’s footsteps as she approaches him, “So what made you decide to get sober if you don’t mind me asking?” He looks at her and finishes putting the chair he is holding away. “No, I don’t mind. Um… I recently found out that I have a daughter. I didn’t react so great when I found out that she was kept a secret from me, so I realized I needed to get better for her.”

“It’s good that you realized you needed help. What’s your little girl’s name?”

“I actually don’t know. I was too high to ask. Another reason why I need to get sober is so I can get to know her.”

“I see. Well, if you need a sponsor, I would be more than happy to help. I’ve been sober for three years. I know how difficult it can be to try to change.”

“That would be great. I’ve been sober for a day and I’m already struggling with it a little bit.”

They exchange numbers before Rafe goes on his way to his next meeting of the day.

——

Anger management right after a narcotics anonymous meeting may not have been the best idea on Rafe’s part. He really did want to get better, but with therapy, he has been doing a lot of talking about his feelings and it is exhausting to him. “And what do you think your anger triggers are, Rafe?” Corey asks, leaning forward in his chair. Rafe feels irritation fill him, “If I knew, then why would I be in anger management?” The look Corey gives him makes Rafe feel like he is receiving a warning from a parent.

He cowers a little under the look. “Okay, I’m sorry for being snippy. But I’m hoping that I can figure this out. I want to figure out what makes me angry and how I can express that anger in a healthy manner,” he reasons. Corey agrees with his statement, “That’s exactly why I am here to help. Why don’t we talk about times you were angry?”

“The last time I was angry was when I found out that someone I slept with five years ago had my baby and didn’t tell me for five years.”

“Right and were you more angry about the lie or the fact that you had a kid?”

“I am more upset by the lying. I told myself that I would be a better parent to my child and she didn’t give me a chance to do that.”

Rafe feels nervous with Corey’s eyes on him; today is the most he has been vulnerable since the night he met Y/N. “That is very angering. Now, how do you think you could’ve managed your anger?” Corey pushes, moving one leg over the other. Rafe takes a second to think, “I should not have gotten high that day. Instead, I should’ve opened communications with her. She tried to talk to me before I ran off, but I didn’t give her a chance.” “That’s right, Rafe. This is a very good start for your first session,” Corey applauds.

——

The blast of music can be heard from outside the front door. Rafe has to laugh at the off-key and incorrect lyrics that are sung about five seconds too late. His daughter might look like his twin, but she seems to have inherited her mother’s musical abilities. He pauses as his fist lifts to knock on the door. The two girls in the house have their own lives. They already know how they fit into each other’s lives and he could off-balance their equilibrium by worming himself into it. He can’t mess up being a father if he isn’t in her life. But then he also couldn’t be a great father if he just left without trying to make things right with Y/N.

He shakes off his anxiety and knocks on the door. The singing stops and the music dims. He can hear her footsteps approaching the door. Vanilla. It seems to haunt him whenever he is around her. He is glad fear doesn’t flash through her eyes when she sees him. He wouldn’t be able to handle knowing he caused her to feel that way.

Her hair falls over her shoulder as she looks over at their daughter behind her. “Stella. Why don’t you go play in your room, Baby?” Y/N suggests, blocking Rafe from the little girl’s sight. Stella shoots up from the couch, “Okay, Mommy.” Her little running legs slowly down at the calling out from her mother to walk. With Stella out of earshot, Y/N finally gives him her full attention. “So her name is Stella. It means star, doesn’t it?” he thinks out loud. She slowly nods her head, “Yeah, I thought of it when I was stargazing while I was pregnant. Plus, my grandmother’s name was Luna so I thought it was a good homage to her. Rafe, I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want to see you again unless you were suing me.” His hand moves his watch face back and forward on his wrist. He doesn’t want to look her in the eyes.

“It’s a beautiful name. And you did make it clear. I want to apologize first. I shouldn’t have shown up to your house high. I probably scared you and Stella, which I never meant to do.

“Apologizing won’t fix the fact that you came over high while my daughter was in the room.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But seeing our little girl, Y/N. I never thought that I could feel so much love for a person I didn’t know before. It made me realize that I need to change. So I started going to NA, anger management and therapy. I want to be mentally healthy. For Stella.”

He can see the way she is processing his words and it gives him hope that he has a chance. “Rafe, I’m glad you are trying to get better. I really am, but I don’t know if I can trust you. You haven’t shown me that you are responsible enough to be Stella’s father,” Y/N explains and she doesn’t want to admit that the sad look on his face causes her some pain. He finally has the courage to look at her, “I understand. I wouldn’t trust me either. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance to show you that I am serious about being there for her. I’m hoping that if I stay sober for a month, you might consider letting me meet Stella as her father.” The silence that comes from Y/N absolutely kills Rafe and he feels like time is dragging on. “Okay. Stay sober for a month and Stella can meet you. But I want to meet you every week to get to know you more to make sure you are someone who can be around her,” she offers.

Rafe’s smile fixes the pain she felt before. He throws his arms around her to give her a hug, “Thank you so much, Buttercup! Can you do dinner tomorrow night?” That nickname. God, she didn’t think she could feel this many butterflies in her stomach at a simple name. She remembers why they are having this conversation and removes herself from his arms. “Dinner feels too romantic. How about lunch?” she counters. He gives her a thumbs up as he walks backwards toward his truck, “I can do lunch, great. I’ll pick you up at twelve. See you tomorrow.”

He gets in his car and starts it. As he does so, he feels a pang shoot through his heart. She didn’t like the idea of going on a date with him, which tomorrow wasn’t going to be. He doesn’t know why he feels that way about it. He shakes off the feeling and focuses on the road.

——

Given that they are here because of Rafe, he offered to pay for lunch. They had decided on a small cafe near her house. “Were you able to find a babysitter? I can pay them for you if you need,” he states, playing with the food on his plate. She shakes her head at his offer, “My brother is watching her, so you don’t need to pay anybody. I certainly don’t need you paying for anything else either. I’ve been able to provide for her just fine so far.” “Right, right. I’m not saying that you can’t take care of her. I just want to make up for not being there for the first few years of her life,” he clears up. She takes a bite out of her sandwich, “You don’t need to make up for not being there. I knew where to find you and it was my choice not to tell you.”

“Right…So you have a brother?”

“I do. I have two actually. An older one and a younger one. How about you? You have a sister, if I remember correctly.”

His heart flutters at the fact that she remembers him talking about Sarah. He looks up to see that her attention is fully on him, “Yeah. I have two younger ones. Sarah and Wheezie.” “Wheezie. That’s an interesting name,” Y/N tries to pretend it isn’t strange. Rafe chuckles at the look on her face, “It’s a nickname, Buttercup. Don’t worry.” “Of course, I’m glad your parents had enough reason not to make that her legal name,” she jokes. Her beautiful smile that Rafe loves has returned, “Me too.” “How are you feeling about being sober so far? Any withdrawal symptoms?” she worries. He feels a twitch in his hand at the mention of his sobriety, “I’m not going to lie. It’s hard. I’m always tired, I’m more hungry than normal and I feel an unpleasant itch throughout my whole body. Not to mention the need for the drug is driving me crazy. But then I think about Stella and remember what I am doing this for.”

The corner of her lips turns upwards at the thought of Stella helping Rafe stay strong. He must truly feel a love for Stella if she is helping anchor him during these trying times. “That’s good,” she says. “Button, I know I said I didn’t want to see you again, but if you ever feel the need to talk to someone, you can come to me. I know that addictions can be hard to overcome and I can see you really are trying. I want to help so Stella can meet her father.” The genuine care in her voice brings tears to his eyes. He barely knows her, yet she has shown more belief in Rafe’s abilities than Ward has in the twenty-six years that Rafe has been his son. Plus, using the nickname she gave him all those years ago must be a good sign that they are on the right track. “Thank you, Buttercup. It really means a lot to me that I have your support.”

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii

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7arami · 5 days ago

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Late Revival

i dunno if this already exists, it probably does, but i want a jason that is revived wayyyyyy later. like the rest of the batfam are adults with a freshly revived and traumatized to hell and back (teehee) jaybin. prepare for me to use a lot of parentheses (with guest appearences of parentheses' cousins: brackets and braces)

specifically im thinking of that one timeline final crisis: battle of the cowl (i think thats the one). where batman is dead, i cant remember who, if any, didnt believe he was actually dead (like im pretty sure at the beginning tim thought he was dead but then later believed/realized/discovered he wasnt) (oh also spoiler alert for those who havent read it: he isnt dead [i kno very shocking, "7arami, your telling me batman 'died' in a timeline but didnt actually die!", yes i am, sorry to have to be the one to break it to u]) now im gonna change his revival a bit jus bcs while i do love a league! jason, i feel this is better suited if jason doesnt have that kind of influence/manipulation for this version and for the vibe im going for. basically superboy prime still has his hissy fit and still punches thru reality which triggers jason's revival and leads him to breaking and crawling out of his own grave (i think the 'punching thru reality and causing ripples' is a dumb as fuck way to revive someone, but i still do really like the concept of jason clawing his way out of his coffin). BUT this time he is buried in like the private grave on wayne manor by like bruces parents, maybe even bruces own grave teehee, (cuz im pretty sure he was buried in a public cementary originally cuz like he was hit by a random couples car, actually im not explaining this cuz as i started to write this out it jus felt more obvious that he wasnt buried on wayne manor [which like also kinda feels fucked, like i dunno if im missing somethin like maybe he was buried there to be next to catherine or somethin, but like damn that is ur son ykno {also find it funny how on dc database fandom, catherine's 'other characteristics' is literally jus: "drug addiction", anyways im done with this tangent now sorry}]) i cant tell whether it would be best for him to still be in that like vegetable state, like hed be kinda losing a part of his .*･｡ﾟsparkle .*･｡ﾟ if he lost that part of his revival, but i also feel like it would better progress the story if there wasnt that conflict along with everything else, but, again, at the same time when has a lil extra conflict really hurt anyone (•‿•). but anyways for now im gonna say hes not in his vegetative state and is barely able to make it to some entrance, front, back, side, top, bottom, whatever doesn't matter. main point is bcs he was already on the grounds of the manor, he doesnt trip the security or something (maybe jus like while hes in his coffin, his robin instincts kick in and hes able to traverse without tripping anything [but thats like unrealistic in a way where u jus wanna make ur fave character op {which i mean i kinda do ʅ(°‿°)ʃ sorry}]). this make the rest of the bats, already in this state of crisis where bruce is "dead", even more cautious bcs what do u mean someones at the front/back door and we didnt get a security alert? then when they do finally check the door they see a young baby (not an actual baby jus exaggerating, hes like 13 or 14) jason todd on the brink of death. now heres where i fuck with the timeline a lot more. i want the whole batfam and i want them to all be an army of protective yet struggling older siblings. like im thinking damian as the youngest would be like 17, everyone else would be older (im not gonna label all their ages but i think yall get the idea)

i want dick to be absolutely broken over getting his little wing back while also grieving bruce and having that internal struggle of dawning the cowl. i want that conflict of tim facing his robin who is now much younger than him and in a vulnerable state he has never witnessed before, when he was younger jason had seemed so much bigger, he was loud, confident, brave, now...... I want to see how damian would fare as an older brother, if hed be a bit insecure seeing how easily the others accepted jason, if hed fear he was being replaced, fear hed have to give robin away/back. i want jason to have that connection/understanding with duke and steph who were raised in the same harsh slums of gotham. i also have this idea of jason becoming much more quiet, a bit non-verbal, whether it be bcs of injury or trauma or both, maybe he and cass create their own sign language jus for the two of them. i want alfred to find any and all excuses to get jason back into the kitchen and help him cook/bake, i want alfred to make it his personal mission to get more meat on jasons bones, bringing back jasons original diet plan cuz god knos being tortured then dying did not help with this kids already existing malnourishment and stunted growth. i like the idea of barbara volunteering at a library, i want her to show it off to jason and gleam with pride as jason stares at her with literal stars in his eyes, maybe even giving a smug look to any bat who may be around for the moment.

but most importantly i want jason to wake up in a sterile medbay, and when the bats finally explain all the time mumbo jumbo and how they dont actually kno how he came back to life, when jason has finally let the info settled and accepted his new reality. i want him to ask with all the joy in the world, with this need to finally see his dad again, "where is bruce?" i want him to look around the silent white room, at each one of his siblings ("wow i have such a big family now! (◕‿◕)") with that giant blinding signature grin of his only for it to slowly start to drop as he watches each and everyone of them look down guiltily. i want jason to get that feeling that he knos what this kind of reaction entails but not want to believe it. i want him to beg dick to answer to him and i want damian to be the one to step, to break the news jason didnt actually want to hear. cuz we all need to remember this is the boy who wanted to kill the joker not for killing him, but for taking him away from his dad (bro that scene still breaks me to this day, lordy lord im about to cry). i want a partially suicidal jason, one that cant help but wish he was still dead jus so he can see his dad again.

i want jasons refusal to accept that bruce is dead to be what triggers tim into looking more deeply into bruces death. like i lowkey want it to be a screaming match, where jason is finally walking around (dont kno what level of recovery he is at, jus that he is not stuck in bedrest), it jus starts out with jason entering the cave and asking what they were gonna do about bruce. everyone is slow to respond, but tim finally says one of them (tims vote is still for dick) is gonna have to take on the cowl bcs batmans a symbol. jason is absolutely disgusted by the idea. starts yelling about how they need to be out there looking for bruce not replacing him (man im not even like a big fan of bruce lol, howd i get to this, like i feel jason has every right to be mad at him in the comics and stuff). damian might be the one to fight back on him about how bruce is dead, jasons asks about the body, damian gets more heated saying he was vaporized nothing of him was left, jasons like "not even ash", and while damian jus gets more defensive and graphic about bruces death, tim takes that note to heart, how there really was no trace even tho bruces cowl was left relatively unscathed (i think, sorry guys, read parts of final crisis and wasnt even paying too close attention cuz the whole time i was pretty pissed about how they totally fucked up jasons character [i mean like seriously, the writers jus went: "oh heres a perfectly good character with lots of complexity and potential....... lets disregard all of that and jus make him this rampant psychopath that only feels one emotionヾ(●ﾟvﾟ)人(ﾟvﾟ○)ﾉ", me and every other jason 'wasted potential' todd fan: (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻]) later he'll tell jason how he began to look into it more and before he can even get into his findings jasons already hugging him, thanking tim for listening, for humoring him. and tim takes a second but finally he reciprocates the hug, holding a teary eyed jason.

anyways im gonna stop for now i still have more ideas but im gonna take a lil break for now, kind of been ignoring my school work to type this out lol

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yanderelinkeduniverse · 1 year ago

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Yandere Sky Headcanons

Sky is, without a doubt, a hopeless romantic when he’s in love. We’ve seen him swoon and sigh dreamily when thinking about his loved one, he’s THAT kind of lover boy. Naturally, when adding a layer of insanity tinged love sickness to that adoration, he’s prone to becoming very affectionate.

Unless you are as dense as a rock, it will be no secret that the Hero of the Skies is head over heels in love with you. He basically has heart shaped pupils whenever he looks at you, cartoon heart bubbles magically appear around his head when in your vicinity and his face turns so red you’d think he had a high fever.

Sky is a devout yandere, obsessive in every way, shape and form, and protective to a fault. Even when not around you, you occupy his thoughts and daydreams to the point where it seems like he’s never not thinking about you.

He’s got a masters degree in yearning from Pining University.

And while he hasn’t lost that many people like some of the other mentally unstable chosen ones in the Chain(namely Wild and Legend), the fear of losing them is very real to him. He’s known the blood chilling terror of being a few steps too slow and a few minutes too late with the only thought in his head being “what did I do wrong?”

Following the conclusion of his first and only journey, Sky has come to accept that he made his mistakes and that he must move on in order to grow, but that doesn’t stop him from taking those lessons to heart when falling in love with you.

We’ve seen multiple times throughout the various installments that one of Sky’s favorite hobbies is playing his lyre. It’s a simple pleasure he indulges in whenever they have a moment of peace and the sound never fails to remind him of his home. But he’s found another reason to love it and that is the attention you end up giving him whenever he plays a song.

He isn’t the best musician in the group, but there’s no denying that the simple melodies he strings together are pleasing to the ears, so it’s no wonder you’d take the time to sit down, listen, and compliment him.

Sky doesn’t see it like that, though.

In his deluded, love hazy mind, all that registers is that you’re there giving him your attention and your praise; two things worth more than gold in his eyes. He’s like a drug addict who just got hit with another dosage. If he had a tail he’d be wagging it so hard it would thump against the log he’s sitting on, so he better consider himself lucky that Twilight is the dog of the group.

Though, if would please you, he’d willingly let you collar and leash him. Tell him to sit and roll over, he’ll do it on command without any shame whatsoever. He’ll even walk around on all fours if you want!-

Anyways-

THIS! 👏 MF! 👏 STEALS! 👏 FROM! 👏 YOU! 👏

I mean, technically it isn’t for long, he won’t permanently take something that belongs to you without ever giving it back(in secret so you never find out it was him), but he WILL swipe something of yours from time to time. Most commonly he’ll take a tunic or shirt from you, something you won’t immediately notice is gone.

When he has a moment of privacy, he’ll take out his little treasure and press it against his face, taking in a deeeeeep breath, and sighing lovingly. He’s got it bad for you and he knows it. If he could he’d use your tunic as a pillowcase whenever he went to sleep, but there’s no way he wouldn’t get caught.

Despite all this sugary sweetness, Sky isn’t solely a soft and gentle boy. If he is provoked, or if you’re being bothered, Sky doesn’t hesitate to step up and glare down the nuisance, all the while keeping a calm smile stretched across his face. This is where his surprisingly deep voice comes in handy, people aren’t expecting a voice like his to come from such a soft face.

Out of all the members of the Chain, I actually think that Sky would be one of the most patient when it comes to people trying to mess with them or you respectively; he’s dealt with Groose’s bullying for a few years, I think he’s a natural at letting nasty comment slide right off him like water off a duck’s back.

However, even then his patience is dangerously thin regarding people. If provoked he won’t hesitate to begin plotting the fool’s demise, whether it be a swift cut to the jugular or a slow, agonizing demise is up to the person in question.

And finally, just a hint, do not try to run from him, it won’t work.

If Fi’s ability to dowse objects and seek them out is based on Sky’s own desire to find them, then if you were to try and run away, he’d be able to track you right down to the exact spot you’re standing in. Because there is nothing and no one alive that Sky wants and needs more than you.

Hide in the woods, in a cave, in a dungeon, in a mountain, it doesn’t matter. He will hunt you down, find you, and drag you back home in his loving, suffocating embrace.

#linked universe #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #lu sky #acrylic writes

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builtbybrokenbells · 9 months ago

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Melodic Memories | Track 6: Ain’t No Sunshine - Bill Withers

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: sexting?, explicit photographs, making out, angst, crying, heartbreak, high school breakups, breakups, estranged parent/strained parental relationship, depression, high school drama, anxiety, mentions of drinking, drinking, mentions of hookups/one night stands, unrequited love, PTSD mentions/explanations of reactions and behaviours due to PTSD, mentions of addiction/drugs, smoking, swearing, fluff, sorry if i miss any!

Sorry for the wait, but thank you for being patient with me! I love you guys to no end!! As always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

Also a special shout-out to @gretavangroupie and @gretavanmoon for always keeping me on track, putting up with my craziness, and for the unwavering support and encouragement 🤍 melodic memories wouldn’t be what it is without you 😌

Her POV

“Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone

It’s not warm when she’s away

Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone

And she’s always gone too long

Anytime she goes away”

Your phone chiming beside your laptop broke your attention from the endless list of Indeed applications you had half finished. You landed back in your chair, careful not to disturb Ozz, who was sound asleep on your thighs without a care in the world. You tapped the screen, hoping it would be a breath of hope for a job offer by a principal who was also plagued with insomnia, but instead realized it was a breath of hope for a much different reason. Jake’s contact name sat below the clock on your Lock Screen, letting you know that after everything, he still didn’t have the heart to hate you.

For some odd reason, you almost wished he did.

Hurting him was something you never wanted to do, but since meeting him, it was all you could do. Despite breaking his heart all over again, he never gave up hope on being friends, even if the label was bullshit and completely unfulfilling.

Being friends with him was hard, mostly because you didn’t want to be, and because you didn’t know how to be. Loving him was a constant state, and putting that to the side proved to be a daunting task despite you being the one to suggest it. Since the day you met him, you were head over heels, and even in his years of absence, it never went away. Being cordial without crossing lines and being friendly without any hidden agenda was difficult, but because you had promised him, you were committed to trying.

Since your talk with Mel the day prior, you felt better about your feelings, but still not certain. There was so much up in the air, still so many things that would not resolve without time, but you had taken it upon yourself to respond to his messages and keep up the friendly communication. It hurt, but it felt better than whatever the hell the previous few days had been. You were sober, still sad, but trying your best to make life as normal as possible despite the burgeoning sorrow that was begging to take over again. It was easier when you were burying yourself in the task of finding work, but that seemed to be the only distraction.

When it came down to it, your current state could only be blamed on your own stubbornness and stupidity.

You clicked on the notification, your Face ID immediately bringing you to the text chain. You scanned the message, seeing no words or greetings, but instead a link to Spotify. With furrowed brows, you clicked on it and waited for the app to load. Once it did, you wished you had ignored it completely. The familiar album cover sent a wave of tears rushing down your cheeks, without warning and without any hesitation. It seemed like a common theme as of recent.

Ain’t No Sunshine - Bill Withers

For a little extra salt in the wound, you pressed play and let the slow melody fill your ears. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the brief moment of pain be felt instead of pushing it down and letting it fester.

Another text popped up on the screen, force of habit making you click on it as soon as it appeared. When it brought you back to Jake’s thread, you noticed an image attatched below the song. You recognized the sight immediately, briefly considering blocking him and changing your name so you never had to feel this way again.

Still, you knew that running away would not rid you of the curse of loving a Kiszka. You tried it once before, and it left you in the exact same situation you ran away from.

For someone who said he would try his best to be just friends, him sending you pictures of him in his childhood bedroom and a link to a song that was an explicit telling of his heart was not very friend-like.

At the same time, you crying over said instances was also very far from friendly.

After only a few troublesome days, it seemed apparent that friends was never in the cards for the two of you.

You looked back at the bed, finding Mel sleeping soundly under the covers, unbeknownst to your troubles just a few feet away. If she were awake, you wondered what she would say. Would she push you to respond, to tell him that the world seemed bleak and lonely without him, too? Without even debating it, you already knew the answer.

Of course she would. It was an incredibly stupid thing to ask.

In fact, she would probably tell you exactly that, or she would be a little more coarse and unapologetic about it. So you drafted up a response with the ghost of Mel’s advice in the back of your mind. If he could be open and honest, so could you. Your fingers trembled as you typed your answer, stopping every now and then to gather your thoughts before continuing on. Eventually, you let out a breath of relief, hitting send on the text and watching as the blue line slid across the screen until it delivered.

You

Guess I’m not the only one having a hard time with friends.

Almost instantly, three dots popped up encased in a grey bubble, signifying he was already typing a response for you.

Jake ❤️

We’re in this together, just like always.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, sickened by the idea of you both suffering over the same thing when the solution was right in front of you. Together always, no matter if it was mutual happiness or to share sorrows.

Jake ❤️

What are you doing up so late, sunshine?

You

Damn job applications. Still no calls :(

Jake ❤️

They’re crazy for not calling you back. I know you’d be the best teacher at ANY school.

You

You think too highly of me 😅

Jake ❤️

Think you don’t give yourself enough credit.

You

What are YOU doing up so late? Sending such risqué texts at that.

Jake ❤️

At mom and dad’s house… had too much wine. Just waiting for Sam to shut up so he can drive us back to the hotel.

You

So I have a drunkard on my hands.

Jake ❤️

I wish I was in your hands, but we’re friends now so I guess that’s off the table.

Your cheeks turned red, your stomach twisting with knots at the simple thought of touching him again. Of course you’d rather be there, drinking wine and retelling childhood stories while sat on the couch, maybe even with his hand on your knee as you leaned into his side. You wanted it all, but only ever with him, and it was torture to pretend you didn’t. He made it so hard to keep your morals in check, and the longer you talked to him the less you seemed to care about the reasons why you left. Maybe you ignoring him had little to do with your own sadness and everything to do with his ability to change your mind about things.

You wanted him—you needed him. To feel his arms around you, to hear the sweet melodies of his voice, to feel the love radiating from him straight into you. You were sick of the self-inflicted punishments, tired of holding back. You missed him, and you couldn’t bear to feel it any longer, especially when he was so close to you.

Jake ❤️

Sorry, sunshine. I’m trying my best.

You

Don’t apologize.

With that, you gave in to the temptation and closed your laptop. You carefully placed Ozz on the bed, so gently that he didn’t even stir from his sleep. As you clicked on his contact and dialled his number, you snuck out of your bedroom and let the door fall shut behind you. The dial tone didn’t even have a chance to ring once before he picked up, his raspy tone filling your ears and easing the ache in your chest that had been bothering you for days.

“Do friends call each other at one in the morning?” He teased, the slight slur in his tone telling you he certainly did indulge in too much wine.

“You want me to hang up?” You shot back, bluffing of course, but warning him nonetheless.

“Not at all.” He responded without missing a beat. “Job hunt too boring? Needed some excitement?”

“Something like that.” You hummed, pacing the hallway outside of your bedroom. You had no idea why you were so nervous, especially considering you’d been in this position a million times before. For some reason, it felt different now, more real and much more terrifying. You let out a sigh, deciding to rip off the bandaid and get straight to the point. “You still have that pack of Newports?”

“Just smoked one.” He confirmed. “Why?”

“I have a bottle of strawberry wine. The cheap stuff, like I used to drink when we were kids.” You swallowed hard, wondering if he understood your intent. He was silent, the static crackling over the line the only inkling he was still there. After a moment, he cleared his throat, and you could only imagine his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he tried to swallow back his nerves.

“Does that mean what I think it does?”

“Let Sam talk, Jake.” You confirmed. “I’ll take you home later.”

“Are you sure, sunshine? This isn’t very friend-like… ‘least it wasn’t way back then.”

“Shove it with the friend thing. It was a really stupid thing to say. I need you Jake, no matter what fucking label we put on it.” You rushed out, knowing you were only breaking your own rules because you were overtired and sad. Still, the only place you wanted to be was in his arms, and nothing would take that feeling away. “Are you in or out?”

“In. Always.” He assured you.

“I’ll meet you halfway.” You couldn’t measure the amount of relief you felt.

“See you in ten.” He promised. Without another word, he ended the call, leaving you staring at your lock screen with uncertainty bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

Instead of dwelling, you snuck back in your room to grab a hoodie. You slipped it over your head as you walked downstairs, grabbing your keys from the kitchen table as you slipped on your shoes. You locked the door behind you, carefully trodding down the porch steps and into the night. The air was cool, the grasshoppers and crickets working together to make an ambient atmosphere in your front yard. You cut through the lawn, feeling the dew of the grass stick to your ankles as you checked for headlights on the road.

You started at a slow pace down your street, your heart racing as the moonlight illuminated the way. Street lamps were few and far between, casting yellow hues over the horizon as you approached your first turn. Keeping on the sidewalk, you marched down the side street and noticed that nobody was waiting for you at the end. Your stomach sank, wondering if maybe he had enough of your ridiculous mood swings and decided not to come at all. You tried not to get in your own head too much as you neared the four way intersection, hearing nothing but distant cars on the highway.

You tapped your foot against the pavement as you stood in the middle, never letting your eyes leave the road that led to his house. After a few more minutes of nothing, your disappointment was growing stronger by the second. You tried to tell yourself that Jake would never leave you hanging, not with your hopes up and your heart splayed on your sleeve. At the same time, you knew if he did, you would be nothing other than deserving of it. You took his love and his kindness for granted, hurting him more than you cared to admit even if it was for his own sake, and if he thought it was justifiable to leave you looking like an idiot, you would have to agree.

Then, your whirlwind of thoughts came to a halt. A shadow appeared under a streetlight, giving you a glimpse of hope back. Seconds later, you could see the outline of a body in the near distance. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his long hair hanging down over his shoulders, and the cutoff t-shirt he was wearing hung loosely from his torso.

It was Jake.

Your Jake—the very same as he was six years ago when he used to meet you in that exact spot.

Knowing that made you feel at ease, calm despite the constant storm of emotions trying to ruin your life. It felt right, walking to meet him under the moonlight, seeing his silhouette under the street lamps. Things were so different, but eerily similar to those memories you cherished most. Without hesitation, you started to walk towards him, your feet carrying you forward despite your brain telling you not to. Your pace sped the closer you got to him, and before you knew it, you were running towards him in hopes he would greet you with the same enthusiasm.

“Sunshine!” Jake laughed, tumbling backwards as you collided into him and engulfed him in a hug. His arms wrapped around you as your head settled on his chest, and as if it were a natural response, he lifted you off your feet and spun you around.

You wondered, after so much heartbreak, how could things still feel so perfect?

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked, carefully placing you back on the ground and pulling away. His warm eyes scanned your face, noticing the shine of tears still lingering and your red nose. “Hey,” his lips dipped into a frown, only making the ache in your chest worsen.

“I’m just… I’m sorry. About everything. The last four days have been awful, and I just… I didn’t want to leave it like that, I guess. You deserve more.”

“Nothing a little rooftop conversation can’t fix, right? Always seemed to work before.” At that, a small smile turned your lips. You sniffled back any remaining sadness, giving him a curt nod to show him you agreed wholeheartedly.

The walk back to your house was relatively peaceful, and he had tested his luck and intertwined his fingers with your own for the short distance. You didn’t have the heart or the desire to turn him away, so you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment while you still could. Inside, you grabbed a few blankets and the last bottle of wine stored in the refrigerator. Then, like it was only yesterday, the two of you trekked into the spare bedroom and you watched as he popped out the screen on the window. Carefully, he climbed out first, grabbing the items from your hands so you could do the same.

When your feet were firmly planted on the rickety tin of the roof, he laid the blanket down and motioned for you to take a seat. Once you did, he sat behind you, his legs settling on either side of your own as he wrapped his arms around your torso. You leaned into the touch, resting your back against his chest as you looked up at the stars twinkling in the sky. For a single moment, you were seventeen again—the smell of Newports stuck to his clothes and the warmth of his body made you believe that no worldly trouble could touch you. You were seventeen, happy and carefree, long before heartbreak ever touched you and the end was even in sight.

But, no good thing could last forever, and the two of you were far too good to last for more than a small glimpse of time.

“Talk to me, sunshine.” He broke the silence, his voice quiet as he watched the same stars you’d focused your attention on.

“Been a long time since we came up here together.” You whispered, tracing small hearts into the back of his hand with your index finger. “I never came up here again after we… I couldn’t. Didn’t feel right.” He didn’t respond to your confessions. Instead, you felt his chin rest on the very top of your head, the pressure light and the position only so he could try and be closer to you. “Why’d you send me that song?”

“You know why.” You did, but you wanted to hear from him. “It’s you, Sunshine. It always has been, and it always will be. Every time I step foot in that house, you’re the only thing I can see. In my bed, laying on the couch in the basement, on a blanket in the backyard, bothering Sam in the doorway of his bedroom. It’s you. Even if you call us friends, that will never change.”

You reached for the bottle of wine, cracking the cap and taking a small sip. You decided it would be needed for such a heavy conversation, and you could keep him here for long enough to sober up and drive him home. As the liquid travelled down your throat, you were plagued with the thought that the sweetness couldn’t even compare to the kind in which came from his words. Even so, you continued to swallow it down in hopes it would wash away the taste of those from your tongue.

“Are you mad?” You asked, looking down at the point your hand met with his. His silence struck you harder than you thought it would, but you couldn’t blame him if he was.

“Not mad.” He replied, taking his time to collect his thoughts on the matter. “Frustrated, but not mad. Think I was at first, but Josh and Sam put things into perspective for me.”

“Mel helped me with that, too.” You hummed, taking another swig from the chilled bottle.

“Why do you think this is the only way?” He blurted the question out, the liquor getting the best of him and furthering his curiosity. He needed answers, but he was unsure if the ones you provided would help. Before you responded, you offered the bottle to him in hopes it would make it easier for him too.

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.” Your voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the ambient noise of the night. “Feel like that’s all I ever do, anyway.” He wanted to argue, to tell you how wrong it was and list every good thing you had ever brought to his life, but he didn’t. Instead, he settled on one simple statement he prayed would get his point across clearly.

“If all you did was hurt me, do you really think I’d still be here?” You swallowed the fact with struggle, feeling the truth get stuck in your throat as it began to choke you. Your eyes watered and your lungs burned because for a moment, you forgot how to breathe, and you hated yourself for pushing a narrative on him and forcing him to take it. “You are so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

Silence became the two of you again, neither one of you willing to rock the boat any further as you digested the answers to your questions. You listened to the dull thud of his heart against his chest, feeling it on your skull if you focused for long enough. You wondered, if he was a separate being and the two of you were your own entities, why did it feel like your heart existed alongside his own, beating in the same rhythm to make the same song, against the flesh and bone that made him? Your own chest felt empty, hollow and barren. It ached with a fervor and the nothingness seemed to taunt you when he wasn’t near. Now, in his arms, you could feel the beat of your own heart after days of missing it.

“Talk to me.” He repeated his earlier statement, his free hand reaching up to brush the locks of hair from your face. His fingers ran through the knotted strands, eventually reaching the end where he twisted them around his index finger. The small action was so akin to his love, the gentleness and the care that went into it telling of all he felt for you. “You called first. You asked me to come over. Something’s bothering you.”

He was right, but it was not some trivial thing or instance that plagued your thoughts. It was everything; the entire world as a whole, your life being so different than the one you envisioned. How could you explain what your troubles were when trouble was the only thing you knew?

Well, that, and love by his hand.

When considering the latter, the world didn’t seem so bleak after all.

“I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going.” You stated, blunt enough to make you regret it. You wished talking about your feelings was easier, that communication could come naturally rather than all or nothing.

“So you’ve said.” He let out a low chuckle, the warm skin of his hand drifting across your cool cheek reminding you that you were alive and awake, rather than stuck in a twisted dream.

“I dunno… guess that I always had this plan. Since I was little, even before my dad left, I knew where this life would take me and how I wanted it to go, how I would handle it. The older I get, the more I realize I never had it figured out, and it’s really bothering me. Way more than I thought it would.”

“Oh, sunshine.” Jake hummed, soft and sweet as the pad of his thumb drifted across your skin. You could hear the smile in his voice, but you weren’t sure why. Either way, it felt good to know it was there, even if your misery clouded every other aspect of your life. “None of us ever had it figured out, even if we thought so. Nobody does, even now. That’s the beauty of life, is it not?”

“God, you sound like Josh.” You scoffed, the corners of your lips turned upwards into a smirk. “When did that happen?”

“Yeah, maybe that was a bit much.” He agreed, his shoulders shaking with a laugh. “Spend a lot of time with him on the road. Kinda hard not to pick up some habits from him.”

“Where’s Jake? I want his answer, not the philosophical shit you pulled from one of Josh’s guides to enlightenment.” You teased, craning your head backwards to catch a glimpse of his face. As you did, you almost wished you didn’t, finding it incredibly hard to tear your eyes away from him.

“Jake’s right here, sunshine. If I answer, will you listen?” He raised an eyebrow, teasing you just the same. He had a point; you were quite pigheaded when it came to anyone else’s opinion, even if you tried your best not to be.

“I will, I promise.” You withheld the fact that all you wanted to do was listen to him, that if he stayed, you would promise to listen until your very last dying breath.

“Okay,” he let out a long breath. “I’m drunk, so bear with me.” At that, a giggle fell from your lips, bits of joy stuck in your teeth despite worrying you’d never feel it again. “Out of everyone I know, you’ve always had it together. You knew where you were going, what you were doing, and most of the time, you knew what everyone else was doing, too. Or what they should have been doing, at least.” A smile struck your lips, full but still sad because he was right. Planning and preparing were the two very things that kept you going, even if it made you overlook emotions and fun. “You still have it together, Y/N, even if things aren’t going exactly the way you wanted.”

“I just… I feel like after all this work, all of this time, I should be somewhere, be something.” You let out an exasperated sigh, your head falling back against his chest with a thud. “Instead, I’m almost twenty-five, still living in my moms house with no job and relying on my high school boyfriend to help pick me up off the ground.”

“Hey,” his interruption was curt, gruff almost as he voiced his distaste for your statement. “You’re not relying on me. I’m not forced to be here because you couldn’t do it alone. I want to be here. I offered to be here. I jumped at the chance, actually.” He said, his lips hovering over your ear as he leaned in further. He smelled like cheap cigarettes and red wine, the two fighting a losing battle against his expensive cologne. It was hard to resist the temptation, to hold yourself back from kissing him and confusing the two of you even further. “Besides, I’m not picking you up off the ground, ‘cause you were never down there in the first place.” The vibrations of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and the warmth of his breath made your stomach flutter. “Also, I’d like to think I’m a little more than just your old high school boyfriend.”

“You are.” The words slipped out with little thought, forcing you to explain your thoughts further. “You’re everything, bug. It’s always been you, too.” You took another sip of wine, swallowing back the heaviness of your statement. Even if the time was wrong, even if you weren’t meant to be, you would always be his. In this lifetime, his presence would always be the only thing you ever craved.

“You’ll get a job, sunshine. I bet you ten bucks you’ll get a call tomorrow.” At that, you let out a dry, sarcastic laugh. It had been months since you finished school, and months since you’d been waiting for an offer. For him to think the tables would suddenly turn was naïve, even if it was comforting. You knew that if everyone else in the world stopped believing in you, even if they thought your amount to nothing, he would continue to cheer you on.

Perhaps he was betting on a job offer for his own personal agenda. If you had certainty again, if you knew where you were going, you wouldn’t be so afraid to let him in.

“You’re funny, Jake.” You dismissed him, saddened as you continued to watch the sky.

“I’ll be expecting ten dollars, then.” He squeezed you a little tighter, the action pulling you further into him. You wanted to tell him that you never wanted him to let go, but you bit your tongue as you realized how selfish it was. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” You assured him.

“Is that why you left? The first time, and this time?” You froze, his question blunt and an answer just out of reach. You wondered what tipped him off, what forced him to ask such a question? You weren’t sure what exactly he was referring to, so before responding you thought it best to ask.

“What… what do you mean?”

“You’re a planner. You always knew how your life would go… and you never expected me. I turned it upside down the first time, and then you left and got yourself back on track… you learned how to be alone and you figured your shit out, just for me to show up and throw things out of whack again.” He seemed to be struggling to explain, but you were following him. “You like control, and you like certainty, and when you love someone this much, it kinda feels like everything is out of control. You don’t know if I’ll leave, or if we’ll run into trouble that causes more bad than good, and you don’t know what I’m thinking or where I’m going to end up. You being with me… kinda makes you accept a whole shitload of uncertainty, and you love certainty.”

“Jake, even if I went back in time and knew that I would end up with you, that we would end up like this, it still never would have prepared me for it.” You breathed, trying to wrap your head around the complexity and intensity of the emotions you felt for him. “I don’t think any kind of logic or sense could explain this. The way I feel for you… it’s so overwhelming, so unlike anything I’ve ever felt. When people used to talk about love, I never ever thought it would feel like this.” You swore you could feel his heart beat faster as you continued to speak, but you did your best to ignore it so you could keep your composure. “It scares me a little, and maybe it’s part of the reason why I left, but it’s so much more than that. The uncertainty was worth it, because I never felt like you would do anything to make me regret it. Even now, you still haven’t.”

“So what is it? Explain it to me, because we were all over the place that morning, and I just need to understand it.”

“I left because I love you.” You replied, toying with a loose thread on the blanket below you. “Because all I’ve ever wanted was to see you succeed, to live a life you always dreamed about, and I’m terrified of standing in the way of it. I saw the notifications on your phone, and it scared the shit out of me. I thought you were going to put your whole life on pause to figure us out, and I couldn’t handle it. You worked so hard for this, just like you did way back then, and I can’t ruin it for you. I’m so fucked up right now… drinking wine on the roof because I’m twenty-five and directionless. I can’t force you to plan your life around me when it’s so crazy right now. I don’t know where I’ll end up, and I guess I’m afraid if we do try again, you’ll regret it. I can handle a lot, but I couldn’t handle knowing you resented me.”

“That would never happen.” He said, his heart aching at the simple thought of you believing he could house such feelings towards you.

“But you don’t know that.” You argued. “When we were eighteen, we ended this on good terms to avoid that feeling. When you came back and I saw you, I was so excited and happy that I forgot about everything else… I ignored any consequences. I’m no better off now than I was then, and to tie you down when you’ve spent the last few years with so much freedom… I can’t, Jake.”

As you said it aloud, Mel’s voice rang louder in the back of your head, telling you that you couldn’t make that decision for him. At the same time, what else could you do? Could you risk the very thing you were determined to avoid? Could you chance all of his love for you being replaced with a bitter, cold emotion that would haunt you for the rest of your life?

“If you’re worried about me, you don’t have to be.” He hummed, fighting every urge to argue. It was easy for him to respond with counterattacks and emotion, because the whole situation frustrated him beyond belief, but you loved logic, and he was trying his hardest to speak from his brain rather than his heart. “My career is important to me. It’s been a long and difficult journey to get where we are, and I’m thankful for it every day. I wouldn’t just give it up, Y/N. My brothers, my fans… I have people counting on me. At the same time, work can only get you so far. When I’m old and tired, the stage isn’t going to be sitting beside me on a porch somewhere. My guitar will be in the living room, collecting dust because my hands hurt too much to play it. There’s a point where all of that is going to be a memory—a damn good one, but a memory.”

You weren’t sure why it hurt so bad, but the thought of him not playing his guitar had struck an agonizing chord in your heart.

“Before I met you, I never thought I could love something else the same way I love music. Then, you showed up, and everything changed. Were not kids, and I’d like to think we’re a lot less stupid. We can have two things at once. I can handle that, even if I didn’t think I could back then. I want you beside me on that porch, bitchin’ at me ‘cause all the guitar does is collect dust. You wouldn’t stand in the way of anything, ‘cause since that day I promised you I’d love you forever, I knew what I was signing myself up for. I will love you forever, and that dream always included you, sunshine. It was never just me up on that stage; it was also you, cheering me on and giving me the encouragement to keep going.”

Your cheeks were damp again, the tears free flowing and your misery loud enough for the whole world to hear. How was he so perfect, in everything he did and every word he said? How was it fair that two people could love each other so much but have so many things stand in the way?

“Loving you is the only thing I know how to do.” You confessed, raising your palms to your cheeks to swipe away the tears. “I promised too, and I meant it. I swear I could never love anyone else like this.”

“No need to cry, beautiful.” He hugged you tighter, encasing you in a blanket of protection that not even the strongest force could break through. “I let you leave the first time because I was scared. I’m letting you go this time because I want you to be ready, too. I’ve been waiting six years, Y/N. If it takes six more for you to get there, I’ll still be waiting. You are worth every bad thing and every day spent alone. Nobody else could ever be what you are to me.”

“God, shut up.” You laughed despite the sadness, a smile contradicting your tears. “Stop making me fall for you all over again.”

“Too bad,” he laughed, watching as you twisted yourself around so you could look at him. “I promised to love you, so get used to it sunshine.” The warmth of his eyes made you feel like everything was going to be okay, even if everything else in the universe was trying to convince you otherwise. When he was out of sight, it felt like the world was ending, but as soon as your eyes landed on him, you felt stupid for ever worrying at all. “Can you promise me something?”

“You sure you want me to? Our promises seem more like curses.” You tried to joke despite the truth being horribly painful.

“Never a curse, sweetheart, even if it does hurt sometimes.” He assured you, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “Promise me that when you’re ready, you’ll let me know.” Your lips turned down into a frown, saddened at the idea of him waiting patiently for you to get your shit together.

“The second I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“And if there’s ever a time you know for sure I’m not what you want, I need to know that, too.” You almost laughed at the incredulous statement, knowing that in this lifetime, not wanting Jake wasn’t a possibility. But, for his sanity, you gave a small nod, assuring him that you would tell him if it did happen to come true. “Thank you for calling me tonight.”

“Thank you for coming. I know I don’t deserve anything from you, but you were the only person I wanted to talk to.” You spun around, now facing him and carefully laying your legs over his thighs. He smiled down at you, his hands resting on your hips as he pulled you closer to him.

“You deserve everything, sunshine.” He whispered, his eyes twinkling under the pale moonlight. You swore, for a single second, you could see the entire universe in the near black of his irises. “Anytime you want me here, I’ll be here. I’ve always been a call away, even if it didn’t seem like it.”

“You were right.” Your stomach was twisted in a knot, the faint hint of alcohol on his breath making your head spin. Your face being so close to his was making it hard to think of anything else, his presence intoxicating as an invisible force pushed you further into his arms.

“About?” He raised his eyebrow, seemingly caught in the same flurry of emotions as you. The tip of his nose was nearly brushing yours, his eyelids heavy as his fingers tightened their hold on you.

“This isn’t very friend-like.” You whispered, inching your lips closer to his.

“I did tell you that it would be hard to be friends.” He reminded you, one of his hands slowly removing itself from your hip to cup your face.

“Yeah, because I don’t want to be friends.” You nearly scoffed the words, disgusted at the thought of it. If it were easier, if the world wasn’t so complicated and cruel, you never would have forced the title on the two of you.

“Me neither.” He agreed. “So let’s not be friends.”

“What else could we be?” You giggled, finding his statement silly considering the predicament you found yourselves in.

“Two people in love, that can’t fully be together yet.” He replied. “Feel like it fits us a little better.”

“That’s a complicated title.” You teased, his lips so close to yours you could almost taste him on your tongue.

“It’s nobody’s business but ours.” He smiled, the softness of his features in the dim light of the night reminding you of a younger version of him. The two of you, in perfect unison, happiness on your faces but lingering sadness in your hearts reminded you of a simpler time, one with a much less complex relationship, when you could be together with no worries.

“Okay, sounds good to me.” In that moment, you would have agreed to anything he said, solely because you couldn’t imagine causing him any more trouble.

“Is there rules for this?” He asked, clearly running on the same train of thought as you were.

“Not tonight, ‘cause we’re just trying to figure it out, right?”

“Right.” He nodded gently, searching your face for any sigh of discomfort. When he could find none, he finally leaned forward and closed the gap between you.

The taste of him was sweet on your lips, fulfilling and so unlike anything else. The simple action left your head spinning and your chest aching, and you wondered if something felt this good, why it could not last forever. His hand held you to him, unwilling to let you slip away before he could fully enjoy the moment. It didn’t take long for him to test his luck, his tongue grazing your lower lip as he silently begged you for more. He barely had to ask—you were bending to his will and parting your lips in an instant, your hands tangling in his hair as your chest pressed against his own.

There were no fireworks, no butterflies or anything like what the movies would describe. Instead, it felt right, like the two of you were meant to be together on the rooftop of your childhood home one last time. When he pulled away, you were breathless, more stars dancing in your eyes than in the sky behind you, and the stupid smile on your lips made you regret every decision you had made in the previous four days.

“Whatever you do sunshine, whatever we are… please don’t disappear again. I sent you that song earlier because it’s true. It’s dark when you’re gone—the sun doesn’t shine and the birds don’t sing, and I can’t handle not having you in my life. As friends, as lovers, as enemies, I don’t care, as long as we’re something.” The pleading tone nearly turned you to dust, the remorse and regret for hurting him so badly seeming to eat you alive as you sat in his arms.

“I won’t disappear.” You promised, closing your eyes so he could not see the tears welling up once again. “I’m perfectly fine with being in love, but not fully together… yet.”

“Good, because I like that a hell of a lot more than I like friends.” He let out a sigh of relief, his eyes flickering to the sky to lessen the intensity of your staring contest. Then, out of nowhere, his eyes lit up and a smile broke out on his face. “Look, sunshine!” He exclaimed, causing you to jump. You whipped your head around, your eyes following the direction of his in just enough time to catch the tail end of—“a shooting star.”

“Make a wish, quick!” You matched his energy, remembering how many stars you wished upon when you were young and in love. For a long time, you cursed the stars and universe because none of the hopeful desires ever seemed to come true—especially the ones you wished upon without him there beside you. Now, sitting on the rooftop with him, held so tightly in his arms, your faith had suddenly been restored. You had gotten everything you ever wished for in the single moment you were sharing with him now.

The both of you closed your eyes, the wispy bright tail of the shooting star still fresh in your minds as you settled on the things you wanted most from this life.

He wished for you.

You wished for him.

Funny how after so many years, your greatest desires hadn’t changed one bit.

☾𖤓

You threw your keys down on the kitchen table, exhausted and sad as you returned home alone. For a few hours, the two of you sat on the roof talking about everything and anything that came to mind, and only when the peek of the sun in the sky began to show did you decide it was best you take him home. You held back your tears the entire drive, not daring to ask the dreaded question of when he would be flying back to Nashville. Instead, you passed the time with laughter and a few more stolen kisses, only making the departure harder when the automatic hotel doors closed behind him.

It was hard watching him walk away when you wanted to do nothing more than walk beside him.

A slow and tear filled drive home left you questioning all of your life choices, and the sun shining bright in the sky did nothing other than taunt you as you made your unusual walk of shame to your own front door. You felt like you had no tears left to cry, but somehow a few still slipped down your cheeks as you collapsed on the couch, too tired to make the trek upstairs. The chill of the night was still settled deep in your bones, and as you threw a tiny blanket over your legs and laid your head on a throw pillow, you could only remember how warm and safe it was to be in his arms.

You clicked on the television for some background noise, playing whatever channel your mother had left on before she went to bed as you begged for sleep to take you. You closed your eyes, the ghost of a migraine throbbing behind your forehead as you noticed the smell of Jake’s cologne stuck to the fibres of your sweater, which was comforting just as much as it was sickening. You reached above your head, your fingertips grazing the material of the curtains as you tried to slide it across the window to block the rays of sun. Eventually, you managed to pull it halfway across, which was good enough for you.

Just as you felt yourself begin to drift off, you heard the familiar chime of your text tone, forcing your eyes open once again. With a huff of annoyance, you reached into your pocket and pulled it out, just in time to feel the vibration of the second text that followed. You held the screen just a few inches from your face, squinting so you could focus your eyes on the words.

Jake ❤️

Since we’re no longer friends, I…

The preview only read so far, frustrating you further as you struggled to activate your Face ID in the dimly lit room. Eventually, you gave up and put in your passcode, wondering what was so important that he had to text you after your long night spent together. Even if it was important, you were sure it could have waited until the morning.

Or, afternoon, more likely.

Jake ❤️

Since we’re no longer friends, I thought it would be acceptable to tell you how fucking bad I wish you were here to keep me company.

Your stomach twisted with a sudden burst of emotion at his words, worsened further by the photograph he attatched below the already blunt message. Suddenly, you were wide awake and sleep was no longer a passing thought. Freshly showered with a towel hung low on his hips, Jake’s face was hidden behind the phone taking said picture in the foggy bathroom mirror. His hair, not even bothered to be towel dried, was dripping water down his tanned chest, and in the small frame of his face that you could see, a smirk was on the corner of his lips.

Beneath the towel, though, was what caught your attention more than anything else. His dick, half hard and pressing against the fabric, sent you down a steep spiral that nearly made you jump from the couch and drive back to his hotel. You swallowed hard, squeezing your eyes shut as you let your head push further into the pillow below you.

Maybe, in love and not fully together would be far harder than just sticking damn friends.

☾𖤓

You woke with a start, your head pounding and your heart racing as your phone rang loudly on your chest. You blinked hard, trying to adjust to the bright light pooling in through the large windows behind you. With a long intake of breath, you pushed yourself upwards, grabbing your phone in one hand and rubbing your face with the other. You peeked at the screen, recoiling at the brightness as you tried your best to adjust. Once you did, you felt your stomach drop and your chest tighten.

Private number.

Could it really be?

You cleared your throat, straightening yourself out as you hit accept on the call. Putting on your friendliest and most professional persona, you placed the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Y/L/N?” On the other side of the phone was a man, curt but seemingly friendly enough.

“Yes, speaking.” You replied, trying to ignore the pull of your heartstrings. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, terrified of getting excited only to be let down.

“So nice to finally be in touch with you again!” He greeted again, chipper and cheery as he realized he was speaking with the right person. “I’m not sure if you remember me—we had a brief meeting here when you dropped off your application. My name is Bruce Myers and I’m calling on behalf of the English Faculty at the University of Michigan.”

“Hi, Mr. Myers. Of course I remember, it’s a pleasure to be speaking with you again.” You responded, now awake and on high alert as you prepared for the best or the worst news of your life.

“Please, Bruce is fine.” He chuckled. “I have to say, I’ve been sitting in my office reading over your resume all morning. All week, actually.” He cleared his throat. You could hear a chair wheel squeaking in the background, then a rustle of papers as he shuffled them around at his desk. “Top of your class in high school, and at UPenn. 5 years experience as a TA, and an achievement and awards list I’m not sure I could compare to.” Your cheeks turned red at the compliment, a fizzle of excitement sparking in your chest. You did your best to extinguish it, remembering that nothing was set in stone and he could be talking you up in hopes of letting you down easy.

“Thank you, Bruce. It’s been a long road to get here, but as I hope you can see, education has always been a top priority for me. When I came back to Michigan, I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to apply at such a fantastic university.” You tried to hide the nervous shake in your tone, biting down on the tip of your tongue as you cringed at your own words. You hoped you weren’t coming on too strong, too desperate.

“I can speak on behalf of all of us when I say we’re incredibly lucky to have received your application.” He let out a small chuckle, taking in a breath as he got lost in thought for a moment. “As I’m sure you know, hiring qualified candidates has been a struggle for everyone as of late.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” You allowed yourself to let out a small laugh, keeping up small talk but eager for him to get to the point.

“I hope we didn’t take too long to reach out—if it were up to me, I would have hired you on the spot, but of course we had a few hoops to jump through first.” Your heart raced, your eyes sparkling as he continued to talk. “If you’re interested and still available, we’d like to extend the offer for you to join us here for the month of August. With no prior lecturing experience, it’s a little more difficult to give you the position immediately, but we’ve all come to the agreement it would be foolish of us to pass up the opportunity to bring in someone who’s so eager to learn.”

“And what exactly would that entail?” You swallowed hard, wanting to agree immediately but knowing it was best to take your time with it.

“Well, four weeks of training, which is as much for you as it is for us. You would be under a mentor, learning the basics and balance of such a fast paced program. It would give you an opportunity to learn the campus, learn about your colleagues at the same time, and it would also allow us to get to know you. It would be probationary, of course, but if at the end of the four week term we’re all on the same page, we could have you teaching an intro to literature course for the fall semester.”

Your mouth went dry, your palms clammy and your heart racing. You were too stunned to speak, so excited that you thought you might have to pinch yourself to pull yourself from a dream. You’d been waiting for a call for weeks, losing hope and more disappointment growing by the day. You barely expected a grade school to reach out, let alone a university.

Then, at the back of your mind, you heard it—loud and clear, and tantalizing.

“You’ll get a job, sunshine. I bet you ten bucks you’ll get a call tomorrow.”

He was right, and you struck him down as if he was speaking nonsense.

With Jake’s words of encouragement echoing in your mind, you pulled yourself out of your state of shock and nodded eagerly, even if the man on the other end of the phone could not see it.

“I would be delighted to join you, and even more so to prove that I’m the right person for the job.”

“Excellent.” He boomed, relived that you accepted the offer. “Why don’t you come down to campus on Friday. We can discuss some more details, really get into the specifics… expectations and salaries and such. Does that work for you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “That’s perfect. Any time works.”

“Let’s say ten, and go from there?” He offered, clearly willing to work with you on the matter.

“Of course, ten is great. I’ll see you then.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it, Y/N. If you have any questions or concerns between now and then, please feel free to reach out to me. I’ve forwarded some information to the email you have on your resume, so you can respond there, or give me a call during business hours if that suits you better.” He explained, the rustling papers ceasing and the squeak of his chair no longer audible.

“Thank you for taking a chance on me, Bruce. I’ll be sure to reach out if I can think of anything.”

“Perfect, thank you. Goodbye for now, and we’ll talk on Friday.”

“See you Friday!” You let a little excitement slip, but he didn’t seem to notice or care as he ended the call. When the line disconnected, it left you staring at the Lock Screen of your phone with an unfamiliar feeling twisting your stomach.

You were nervous, but thrilled to have an opportunity like such. It was the biggest moment of your life, the most exciting change and the very thing you’d been waiting for. You were so filled with energy you could have run laps around the house, the few hours of sleep barely bothering you as you reran the conversation through your head a million times.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed to yourself, quiet but still enough to express some of the joy you were feeling. Just as you did so, paws against the floor sounded and Ozz appeared in the doorway, happy to share your excitement and most definitely looking for someone to fill his food dish. He approached the couch, jumping up and landing on your legs as he began to purr. “I have a job, Ozz. I actually have a job!” You scratched behind his ear, knowing it was insane to share such sentiments with a cat, but unable to keep it locked up.

Then, the realization struck you; you had to tell people, share the great news and celebrate accordingly.

The only issue was, the first person that came to mind was not your best friend who lived the struggle with you, still sleeping upstairs and awaiting good news. It wasn’t your mother, there by your side every minute of every day of your life, cheering you on and holding your hand. It wasn’t your sister, and it wasn’t even your cat.

Jake was the only person in the whole world you wanted to share the news with.

Even if he should not be that person for you anymore, even if he didn’t care as much as the others would, you couldn’t bear to speak to anyone else but him. Telling someone else before him nearly sickened you, because after everything you had been through with him, he was the only person who deserved to know. He listened to you speak your dreams aloud from fifteen to now, studied with you, filled out university applications with you, and sent you off to school even when all you wanted to do was turn around, even if it hurt him so badly to do so. Even during the six years he was absent, there was a part of you that continued on solely because he was alive, existing at the same time as you somewhere in the world. His absence never had any effect on the support and love and encouragement he always gave to you.

So, you did exactly that; you clicked his contact, immediately drafting up a message and hitting send without thinking twice.

You

I have ten bucks here with your name on it, bug. I never could have done any of this without you. I love you more than you could ever know ❤️

You didn’t care if he responded, nor if he ever read it. It felt right to express the truth, freeing to be completely transparent with him. He deserved to know how much he meant to you, how his impact on you lasted through years of life, survived through every struggle, and existed in your heart even when he was not right in front of you. He was responsible for every good thing, every accomplishment and triumph you ever experienced, because his love made you into the person who stared back at you in the mirror. Loving Jake was never an option because without him, you wouldn’t be you.

Maybe, despite all of the doubt and uncertainty, the confusion and the hurt, the sun was shining again, for both of you. The world no longer had to be bleak, scary and lonely, because you finally knew where you were headed. Your feet, firmly planted on the ground for the first time in your entire life, no longer wanted to stay put in one place. Instead, they were begging to run towards the only thing in the world that ever felt like home, to run to him.

And maybe, just maybe, your wish upon a star was worth it this time, and the two of you could finally overcome the struggle and be together once again.

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