#So much baked into this chapter into the whole series

[frobby]

No home is a beautiful piece of media, of literature, of art. It started beautiful, it stayed beautiful and it will end beautiful. A case study on grief, on loss, on the death of childhood, on the betterment of yourself, on recovery, on friendship and on moving forward.

I am not sad that no home is going to end for i appriciate what it brought to me. Every chapter was meaningful and worth reading and its ending at the exact place it should.

Thank you wanan, thank you no home for letting me read you

[m-ilkiee]

E-boys Ruined my Life: Toxic! Megumi Fushiguro x Fem Reader

Chapter 1: Love at First Sight

[series summary]: you had a crush on Megumi for so long, you hoped you would meet him again. But now, as you stand before him, you realize that Fushiguro Megumi is not the same kid as he was at fifteen- he was taller, broader and far more handsome than ever. And a whole lot meaner to you.

[synopsis]: Being friends with the IT GIRLS as a first year has a lot of perks; new friends, a popularity boost and crossing paths constantly with your high school crush after many years apart, Megumi Fushiguro. this is a heavily edited and revised chapter.

[cw]: DARK CONTENT, NSFW, aged up characters, classism - elitism, sexism/misogyny, unhealthy body image, violence, mentions of bullying and suicidal ideation, slut shaming, objectification, parasocial relationships, gaslighting, manipulation, sex between characters, brief mention of teenagers fooling around.

[r-18+] (not suitable for 17 and under)

[wc] 13.5k

[masterlist] [chapter 2] [taglist] [playlist] [main]

  THERE’S just something so thrilling about having positive attention.

Each step you take down the campus quad has heads turning your way in awe. Decked in original pink juicy couture tracks, white Nike sneakers with pink highlights and your white hermes bag hanging off your arm, you strutted onwards with your head held up high. Everything about you screamed perfection, from your proper posture to your brand new hair-do, to your freshly microbladed brows, to your light ‘clean girl’ makeup that accented your best features, down to new manipedi you got.

Things you took care of no matter how much pain or discomfort you were in. And it was worth every hot wax pulled off your skin.

All eyes were on you, stopping in their tracks just to admire your beauty. You could hear whistles and compliments being thrown at you from all sides, but you pay no mind to them, instead scanning the surroundings until you spot a familiar blue haired girl sitting at the edge of the quad with the other girls. She notices you as well, breaking into a smile as she waves you over and you make your way to their spot excitedly, plopping yourself on the bench besides your friends.

The IT girls of Wilhelm Baldwin University; that’s what the school dubbed your group, made up of the most popular girls in the school.

“Honestly, you’re one of the only people who I’ve seen wear a tracksuit and still look hot with it.” the blue haired girl, Miwa, spoke, her eyes admiring your outfit. She was the sweetest girl you’ve ever met, coming from humble beginnings and doing everything she could to support her family as the sole breadwinner.

She started creating lifestyle and baking content on her tik tok as a way to pass time when she was bored, only for her to grow big overnight, appearing on shows, tours and other events. Now she settled to go to school, wanting an education and she makes lifestyle content about her chaotic days in university.

Everyone knew her as the nice girl of the group, always willing to let people down gently and helping people who asked. To outsiders Miwa was a saint. To the inner workings of your group, she could be a little misguided and thick headed at times. Despite all that, she’s your closest friend and the first ever person you met on college campus, long before you became popular.

“It’s juicy couture Miwa. Of course it’s gonna look good. Well on someone as hot as (name).” A blonde haired girl who was sitting across added. 

Momo Nishimiya, a trust-fund baby whose parents practically own the legal world in the palm of their hands. With her father as a rather influential senator and her mother as the chief justice of the nation, Momo is set for life. You never let her five foot appearance fool you; just like her parents she was vicious, smart and could pull just the right strings to get people to do what she wanted.

Not even her dad was safe. The cherry red sports’ car sitting in the school’s parking lot is a testament of how convincing she could be.

You’re glad she was an ally and not an enemy.

“I’m just shocked that new money is finally wearing something original.” the girl with the short green hair sitting next to Momo says with a sly grin, her mocking tone grinding your gears.

Mai Zenin, the leader of the group and the bane of your fucking existence. Coming from a long line of generational wealth of the Zenin’s, Mai is the President of the biggest sorority in the nation, the Zeta house, a business major at the top of her class and an olympic gold medalist in the shooting range category.

It didn’t help that she was also gorgeous and her pores were effortlessly clear, because by god was she infuriating and you wished there was just something you could say to knock her down a peg.

Cocking her head sideways, Mai’s pink lips curled up into a smirk as she placed her chin on her propped up hand. “It is real Juicy Couture, right?”

“It is real.” You quip back in a sickly sweet voice, returning a strained smile and resisting the urge to just jump her. “I thought old money could recognize real from fake, guess you’re not that good at spotting the difference.”

And then there is the newest addition to the group, you, (name) (last name). From the generous nickname Mai gave you, you’re new money after your mother married your step-father, a highly controversial marriage to the media. Being the youngest and only freshman to ever join the group without being in Mai’s sorority, you’ve garnered attention within just months of entering the university.

You would think you would have done something noteworthy for the entire school to notice you; but no that’s not what happened.

You’re popular because you’re the hottest girl on campus.

No seriously.

There was a stupid ranking of the hottest freshman girl and you won. Not a sorority sister or some girl rushing for a sorority, nor a much more wealthy socialite who had years of money to keep looking hot. You assumed that with the world’s weird beauty standards you would barely be noticed, which was fine, but somehow the university decided they liked you and they liked the way you looked.

You went from being a homebody glued to your screen to being invited out by other girls to gatherings, getting free things on campus and being asked out every 3-7 business days.

And who was Mai to ignore the opportunity of a rising star?

Mai laughed at your clap back, her eyes sparkling with interest as she leaned back on the picnic chair. “Don’t be mad at me, I saved you from a scandal by giving you valid criticism. Imagine if the tabloids caught you wearing fake Vancleef, ‘(Last name) - Nanami caught wearing a dupe, is the mother-daughter duo still stuck with their penny pinching ways?’ Is that the kind of news you’d want following you around, new money?”

You gritted your teeth in frustration, recalling exactly how you got into that mess which heavily involved Mai Zenin. “You were the one who sent me to that store in the first place.”

“I was trying to teach you how to tell what’s a dupe and what’s not. And it’s paying off. You look so much better in original clothes.”

“Why you-”

“Ladies enough! Hearing about dupes makes my head hurt.” Momo cuts in, ending the argument before it could escalate any further. Both you and Mai instantly back down from the heated argument, still glaring down at each other. “And where is that pledge with our drinks? I’m really not in the mood to get through the day without my fix of espresso.”

“You’re just antsy cause you pulled an all-nighter with some project.” Mai teased her blonde friend, suddenly in a good mood again. “I told you to give that shit to some poor nerd who needs the money to do it for you.”

“I’d rather not. Most of them are so mediocre in their academic papers, it makes my skin crawl -”

You tune out the rest of their conversation, not wanting to hear the two girls talk about how poor people are dumb losers and how much better they are compared to people of lower class, picking up your phone and going straight to instagram. Mindlessly, you scrolled through your feed, only liking pictures of hot guys, your friends and food content, really nothing out of the ordinary with your feed.

Sometimes you wonder if this was going to be your college experience.

You had barely just entered school and already you were at the top of the food chain, which was good for you. Being the newest socialite, you knew it would be hard for anyone to respect you. 

It was different for someone like Miwa, who made the money by herself. She had more respect from wealthy people, than you who by proxy inherited it by your mother marrying into money.

Your dumb luck has saved you from being known as the gold digger’s daughter and you’re grateful for it.

Anyone would kill to be in your position right now and yet, you feel like you’re wasting away. There are so many restrictions attached to the lifestyle you’re living, so many clubs you can’t join because you let Mai dictate what you can or can’t do.

“The Wilhelm Baldwin University Theatre is inviting you to our play production, Legally Blonde on 26th Nov 2024.”

You hover on the instagram post on your school’s official account, staring at it sadly as you think about your situation. Something twists in your heart at the e-poster, a solemn smile making its way to your face. A distant past where you would have jumped at the opportunity to be involved in the arts flashes back into your mind.

‘Perhaps there is truly a price for fame and popularity…’

“Hey, isn’t that the play by the University’s theatre club?”

You’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts by Miwa, but soon your shock turns to annoyance when you realise she was looking into your phone while you were distracted. Before you could reprimand her, Mai and Momo quickly shifted their attention to what she had said, clearly interested in the newest information, their faces twisted into ugly smirks.

“Those Juillard wannabees are hosting a play? That’s rich. What are they gonna do? Another shitty rendition of Romeo and Juliet?”

You internally cringe at Mai’s scornful tone but you couldn’t deny her words. Your school’s theatre program is rather underfunded, putting more money in your cheer team, football squad and fraternities. Only people either on scholarships or who are currently knee-deep in college debt make up the majority of the program's occupants.

Another difference between class divisions in this school.

Before you could say anything to change the topic, Momo snatches your phone from your hand and takes a good look at the poster. “They’re doing Legally Blonde?? These bottom feeders are literally cosplaying a socialite. Be for real”

The two girls burst into laughter, nearly knocking over your expensive iphone as if it’s the funniest thing on earth. Miwa bites her lip, a look of guilt crossing over her face the moment she sees your fists clenched underneath the table in annoyance. You’re quick to take slow deep breaths, counting from one - ten as the two older girls continued to berate the play between scornful laughter.

“Wait wait, let's check the casting…” Mai says between gasps, scrolling to see the people playing the characters. A feeling of dread washes down your body when you see her sneer at the first picture. “Hana Kurusu is the person they picked to be THE Elle Woods? THEY picked a girl who wears shoes from goodwill to play Elle woods? Who casted this?”

‘I’m pretty sure they don’t base their criteria for casting based on where you get shoes from’

“She’s not even close to being hot.” Momo adds, her tone tinged with pure disgust. “I can’t believe they picked her.”

“Maybe she’s a good actress.” Miwa says in a dead tone, trying to salvage the situation. The older girls look at Miwa as if she’s grown two heads, before sighing and shaking their heads like she’s an impetuous child. “Look, Miwa-chan, I know you’re a sweetheart but you know none of those theatre kids have any talent. They take in anyone, ANYONE. New money can agree with me on this one.”

All eyes turned to you, expectant of your answer. Anxiousness creeps onto your skin as the spotlight is put on you, all your anger dissipating as Mai’s gaze burns deep into your soul, waiting for you to agree with her. As much as you’re usually going toe to toe with Mai, you know your spot with the IT girls was still tentative. This is one of the arguments that could make or break you; while she loves being challenged, Mai will never forgive you if you show sympathy for any person she considers beneath her status.

On one hand, you could risk Mai genuinely hating you and making her your enemy by telling her the truth, that Hana truly has more talent than Mai ever will.

On the other hand…

You plucked your phone from Momo’s hand, taking a good look at the picture before throwing your phone aside dramatically, gagging in disgust. “Ewwww, that’s the girl that wears that ugly sweater from Costco three times a week. I hope her acting isn't as ugly as her fashion sense.”

Your comment breaks the tension, making the three girls - yes even Miwa - bark with laughter, nearly losing their minds at your reaction, sealing the deal. You settle into a small smile as the pledge brings your drinks to the table, placing your frappuccino in front of you. You carefully sip your drink, washing down the bitter taste of guilt with its sweetness.

‘Keep your friends close and wealthy friends with connections closer.’

   ZENIN Megumi hated Trending Tuesdays on the T with a burning passion.

He hated a lot of things, to be fair, but this was at the top of the list of things he hated. It was like a dick measuring contest that some of his classmates did in high school, only on a much larger scale involving a bunch of grown adults who should be doing something better than watching the latest trend on a thinly veiled gossip blog masquerading as the school’s website.

The fraternity usually got louder during Trending Tuesdays, hollering about the newest girl they considered hot and who was not or what guy did the craziest thing. Usually on these kinds of days, Megumi would go up to his private room and smoke whilst blasting music or playing League of Legends, but now as the president of his fraternity, he has responsibilities. He has to be present, even if it killed him on the inside, at least to encourage this stupid bonding activity or whatever his vice-president, Yuuji Itadori told him.

“Aren’t you going to show the slightest interest in Trending Tuesdays?”

Speak of the devil.

Megumi turns his attention from the book he’s reading, “The Godfather” to Yuuji Itadori. The pink haired man had always been there for him since Megumi moved schools; even as he fell into deeper darkness as he spent more time with the Zenins, he and that crazy bitch Nobara stood beside him. Yuuji was the more fun one, much more cut out to be the president of the Fraternity in Megumi’s opinion, even though he’d say otherwise. He has been so invested in Trending Tuesdays as a tradition and perhaps that’s why he wants Megumi to be more involved this year.

“You want me to huddle over a phone with other guys to see what girl half of the fraternity will jerk off to tonight?” Megumi crosses his arms. He knows he’ll cave eventually because it’s Yuuji, but he’s not going to make it easy for him either. “Isn’t my presence while this madness is going on in the common room enough?”

“Come onnnn! Toge’s gonna put it on the TV anyways so you won’t have to rub shoulders with people” Yuuji groans childishly, making the dark haired man roll his eyes in response. Sometimes his friend can be so irritating whenever he wants him to do something, especially if it involves socialising with people. “We just have one more year before we graduate, aren’t you in the slightest curious about it?”

“No.”

“But it’s like a team bonding exercise! Besides, you might see a girl you’ll actually like in this school.”

Megumi almost wants to laugh at Yuuji’s statement. It’s just as ridiculous as the elders in the Zenin family who keep insisting for him to at least have a main girl so that the future of their bloodline is secure. Only that Yuuji thinks that Megumi is only sleeping with different girls cause he hasn’t found the right one yet.

At least the Zenin’s are not naïve to his real intentions.

“As long as it's not school sanctioned, I don’t care.”

His blunt tone deflates Yuuji’s cheerful mood once more and for a brief moment Megumi thinks he’s worn Yuuji down, returning to read his book in peace.

“PleasePleasePleasePleasePlease-”

Sick of Yuuji’s incessant nagging, the dark haired man barked out “I’m coming, I’m coming!” throwing the novel aside and storming off, Yuuji following behind with a shit eating grin.

  THE second he enters the common room, the once chattering room goes silent.

Megumi isn’t new to his frat brothers fearing him. He is not a particularly friendly face with his usual grumpy expression and towering height, and he has the personality to match, quiet with a stern personality. It could be his policies that make them instantly shape up whenever he is around, scared that he’d lash out at them at any moment or expel them for the slightest mistake.

It’s not like their fears are unfounded though. But he only punishes annoyances and as long as they stay out of his way and his room, they’re safe.

They clear the way for him and Yuuji, letting them walk to the largest chair in the common room, greetings of “Good day President” “Good day vice-president” echoing throughout the room. Yuuji is the only one that responds, telling them to loosen up. “We’re just here for trending Tuesdays. No one’s gonna get in trouble today for being rowdy, right, Zenin?”

“We’ll see.”

A white haired male was already perched on their usual seat, brows pinched in concentration as he connected his phone's bluetooth to the television. The man raised his head, his sour expression quickly turning to shock when he saw Megumi standing in front of him. He looked from Megumi  to Yuuji, discarding his phone to put a hand in front of his face, bending his fingers in and out, his lips mimicking Megumi’s usual grouchy frown.

“How the hell did you get Mr. Grumpy out of his room for Trending Tuesday? You didn’t offer him a free fuck like one of his whores, right?”

Megumi felt his eye twitch as Yuuji snorted at the comment. before rapidly signing back. “Fuck you, Toge.”

Toge rolled his eyes at Megumi in response, before moving aside so that he and Yuuji could sit and the common room goes back to their chattering as before when they realise Megumi wasn’t doing any official duties today.

Toge Inumaki was a senior majoring in robotics engineering, their fraternities treasurer, as well as a grade one menace to society.

People make the mistake of assuming he’s a quiet guy because he doesn’t say anything and think he’s this sort of mysterious and cool person who keeps to himself, not knowing that he’s mute, deaf in his right ear and partially deaf in his left, always donning his hearing aids. Toge doesn’t bother clearing up the rumours, rather taking glee in watching people try to get close to him to get him to ‘open up’, only to be horrified when they realise his disability and feel immense guilt right after.

Yuuji had tried talking him out of it, but he defended his actions with, “That’s what they get for treating me like a social experiment. They wanna be friends with the quiet rich kid to get favours.”

Megumi doesn’t blame him. Ever since meeting Toge, when he moved high schools, he knew that people either treat him as the introverted project they want to take on or the poor disabled kid who no one understands, but never a human being.

Sometimes, people would straight up not believe him that he can’t hear them without his aid because he’s “too cute to be disabled”.

Even his parents are weird around him, never once attempting to learn sign language themselves since it would be too ‘tasking’.

It hasn’t damped Toge’s sense of humour regardless. Anyone who knows Toge and knows sign language knows that the white haired man is a talkative with a filthy mouth. He’s a prankster and pledges are advised to avoid him, seeing as they’re the most susceptible to his rather cruel jokes.

Girls seem to like him though, if the irritating screams of pleasure that keeps everyone else up at night every time he has a study partner were anything to go by.

Toge goes straight to the school’s website, the T and the website comes up, a large TRENDING TUESDAY typed in cursive letters was at the top of the blog post. Realising that he was out of his element, Megumi turns to Yuuji to ask “So how does this work again?”

“Well, trending Tuesdays are all about who is or are the most influential students in school today. Whether it’s pranks, or the cutest couple or even someone that did something impressive today, it all depends on who had the most impact. They write a short blurb and say something about the person.” Yuuji doesn’t turn his attention away from the screen as he continues. “You’ve always been in the top three since you entered this school.”

“Is that so?”

Megumi shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile on his lips. Sure, he hates the T and thinks it’s a pointless program but being at the top without even trying feeds his large ego a little bit.

Toge scrolls up the page, ignoring the people at the hundredth place because they’re obviously irrelevant and gets to the top twenty. A picture of a girl with white hair in short bob wearing a white sweater and black pants in one picture, and a blonde wig in another wearing a hot pink suit in another comes up.

‘Hana Kurusu, the head of the theatre club is the first to spearhead a high end production of legally blonde. While we’re really happy for her, let’s not get our hopes up, this play is going to be garbage fire-’

Megumi quickly tunes out the rest of the post and the rest of the frat talking about how the musical will be dog shit, not really interested in anything about Hana. Sure, she’s a decent fuck and she does whatever he wants, including keeping her mouth shut about their arrangement but that didn’t mean he cared about her.

“Damn, they really ripped the theatre kids a new one. I don’t think they deserve that” Yuuji murmurs.

“The T didn’t lie, I tried giving theatre a chance for a hot girl who was super into it. I ended up taking off my hearing aids mid-performance because I didn’t pay to hear such shit acting”

“Toge!”

“It was a shame, she had really nice tits but she can’t sing or act for shit. Instant turn off. Why do something you’re shit at?”

Megumi nods in agreement, replying to Toge’s argument. “Only broke kids join theatre to be part of something. The fee is low and they think they’ll make it in Hollywood since they schooled here.”

The rest of the top 15 were uneventful, apart from Yuuji at number 6 who practically broke a school record in track and field, set up by the fastest runner in ‘08, Zenin Naoya - Megumi’s shitty cousin amongst the sea of shit family members he has.

As usual, Yuuji shrugs it off despite everyone screaming in shock and congratulating him, saying it's not a big deal. Maybe it’s because he’s a beast at almost every sport he touches that he’s so humble with his achievement. All his years of knowing Yuuji from high school, he has always remained humble and friendly, never letting his success get to his head.

He’s sure if Naoya ever finds out, he’d be pissed.

Good.

Finally they make it to the top five, the most anticipated people that everyone is always curious about. Usually, the top five is not just about achievements, it’s about looks, it’s about charisma, it about how much people thirst over them.

They encapsulate the true shallowness of the student body.

‘At number five, it’s Momo Nishimiya. Winning the debate nationals and making it as the head of the national model UN, there are big things awaiting the beauty with brains from the IT girls group. I’m sure I see another cherry red sports car in ms. Nishimiya’s future or another trip to the Bahamas as a celebration! Make sure to post those Bikini pics babe’

“Preferably the latter.” Some of the frat boys murmured, their voices dripping with lust that it’s nearly pathetic. “I’ve got to see her in a bikini again or I’ll kill myself.”

‘I hope you do, you’re actually annoying.’

Megumi doesn’t stop them from being nasty little perverts though. In his opinion, it's just the way boys talk, especially when they’re with their fellow guys.

It’s not like they mean any harm by being horny.

‘At number four, making it to the cover of Independent and a guest appearance on the Tonight Show, Mai Zenin. Well, are we really surprised to see ms. hot stuff, perfect ass at the top?

Running the school with an Iron fist, Mai, the leader of the IT girls has always maintained her relevance from the second she won an olympic gold medal in shooting range. A mixture of grace and smarts, there is always a spot for her in the top five.’

Megumi sighs the second he sees Mai’s magazine cover; wearing a rather sexualized version of a chesogam, she leans on a chair with her legs crossed, the long slit giving view of her long legs. Her smile is sultry, never reaching her eyes.

He has never seen her ever smile genuinely before in all the time he spent in the Zenin household. Not that he blames her, the way they treated women in that place was nothing to smile about.

The frat boys all but bark at her pictures, each hungry for something, shouting profainities about how much they want to fuck her. Itadori opens his mouth to say something, but Megumi clamps a hand over his shoulders and tells him to settle down. “Don’t worry, let them have their fun. It’s nothing serious.”

Normally Megumi would stop them, but he thinks they’re cute. They’re so cute thinking they even have a chance with Mai of all people. If there was something Megumi liked about Mai, it was that she had standards.

If she was going to be treated like shit, might as well be treated like shit wearing Louis Vuitton and Hermes.

He turns his attention to the next one on the list and his smile instantly drops the second he sees Maki at number 3. The T has a weird habit of pitting Maki and Mai against each other, and while Maki wouldn’t care about this shit, Mai does.

The Zenin’s had imprinted it that women must be in constant competition for affection because how much they are loved is how much they are valued. Maki thinks everything the Zenin says is bullshit, including that whole line about affection. Mai, however, is a different story. She has internalised that information so much that she spends so much time caring about her reputation to her detriment.

‘At the proud number three is our nationi8nal MMA champion, Maki Zenin! This week she defeated the previously undefeated title holder, Sena. I’m not usually into muscular women but goddamn does she look hot while beating in someone’s face with her fists. Step on me mommy-’

Uncomfortable with reading the rest of that sentence, Megumi quickly signs desperately with Yuuji laughing at him in the background. “Scroll up, scroll up.”

Luckily for him, Toge also seemed uncomfortable because the last thing he wants to see is someone thirsting over his best friend and scrolling away, landing on the number two name on the list.

‘And coming up to the number two is Zenin Megumi, the school’s resident mysterious hottie who happens to be recruiting new pledges for the Alpha Beta frat house.

How he divides his time between posing for the house of Gojo’s fashion line, shirtless and at the same time stays on top of his business class is some what a mystery, not that I’m complaining though cause FUCK HE’S HOT…’

Megumi groans in his hands as a picture of him posing shirtless with flared jeans, whilst manspreading comes on screen for the entire frat house to see.

The entire house grows quiet, before whispers of “is it okay to have a crush on our president- in a manly kind of way?” And “he looks so majestic, that’s our president! I need his gym routine-” start floating in the air, only making Megumi grow more annoyed, almost as if he’s not in the room with them.

Yuuji places a hand on his shoulder with a teasing smile, clearly enjoying watching Megumi suffer. “Don’t be shy. You should be proud of your-”

“Shut the fuck up and tell Toge to get that shit off the screen before I hear another person ask if it’s okay they get off to pictures of me.”

Amused, Yuuji turns to Toge, signing Megumi’s message to which he lets out a weird snort like laughter, before scrolling up to the moment everyone has been waiting for: The number one spot. He can hear some people drawing in a deep breath, waiting for the next person until the blurb flashes on the screen.

“At the number one spot; the stunning beauty of University that has gripped our hearts and our nether regions. Voted the sexiest girl on campus the second we saw her in the freshman group taking a tour, (Name) (Last name)-Nanami!

Dressed in a cute Juicy Couture that makes her ass look juusst right, (name) has taken the entire school and the socialite scene by storm.

By the way, happy belated eighteenth birthday princess. Now that you are legal, I can proudly say I and the majority of the guys in this school have jerked off to your birthday bikini pics with zero guilt. And also, thanks to you the juicy couture section in the mall not too far away and the goodwill a few blocks over is sold out. You’re an icon babe, keep being you.’

“FUCK YES IT’S HER AGAIN!”

“Please, please, please marry me (name), I’ll dump my girlfriend for you! Fuck I’ll set a car on fire for you-”

“I hope her nudes leak or something, that’s the only way I’ll see her naked because she’s way too good for me.”

Megumi doesn’t think too much of it, ignoring all the crazy things his fraternity brothers are saying. But someone else has an opposite opinion.

“Oh God, not her again.”

Megumi raises a brow, curious at Yuuji’s reaction. It was strange for the friendly man to sound so annoyed over someone, especially somebody so new to this school and seemingly beloved by the student body. Usually, he’s the one to have qualms about the person and Yuuji would have to talk him into being less suspicious about the person.

His friend had no malicious bone in his body. Or maybe there’s a side to Yuuji even he doesn’t know about.

“You don’t sound too happy.”

“No… that’s not what… you don’t know who she is, do you?” His pink haired friend only groans in response, increasingly getting more agitated for some reason. Megumi shakes his head negatively in response and Yuuji sighs. “Remember when my dad got married like last year? That’s my step-mom’s daughter … my step-sister.”

“Oh”

Back in December it was trending news that the owner of the best winery in the world, Nanami Kento was getting married to a deaf, single mother. The Zenin’s were pissed because Nanami chose ‘damaged goods’ over the barely legal teen they arranged so that they could partner with him. But since Megumi wasn’t interested in such a topic and he was just happy the elders were miserable that winter, he didn’t bother to look into it.

No wonder Yuuji looked more irritated with every passing moment. The pink haired boy always seemed to be concerned about his family members whenever the tabloids said something nasty about them and was fiercely protective of them. It could be why Yuuji doesn’t bring her around the fraternity house or barely mentions her, so that people won’t try to use him to get to her.

“She’s just eighteen Megs.” Yuuji’s grave tone rouses Megumi from his thoughts. Poor guy, it’s really bothering him, what’s going on with his sister. “It’s not been up to three months since she got here and the comments the T has made about her body are disgusting. She pretends like it doesn’t bother her but I’m sure that she hates it deep down.”

He can relate to Yuuji right now; back in high school he would overhear guys talking about how much they want to screw his sister.

Unlike Yuuji though, he wasn’t as patient.

“Don’t think too much about the T’s comments” Megumi reaches a comforting hand to Yuuji. Even though he’s sure the girl doesn’t give a damn about his friend, he has to ease the pink haired man’s nerves somehow. “Maybe she truly doesn’t think it’s too much of a big deal. She could be like that, you never know. Plus you know how the T is. They’re obsessed with the next hot thing and then they fall out of love with it.”

Besides, Megumi figures you’re just a shiny new thing that’s trending now. And the thing about trends is that when there’s nothing interesting or fantastic about them, they die out. ‘Yuuji has nothing to worry about’ he muses to himself. ‘You’re probably not that pretty to last long-’

The second Toge puts your picture on the screen, Megumi finds himself eating his words.

The admiration of your image by the other frat members becomes nothing but background noise as he stares at the t.v utterly transfixed. Your features were distinct in a way that could only be described as ethereal, breathtaking, exotic. You’re wearing cute juicy couture sweats, something he thinks looked utterly tacky and overdone by all the blond girls in this school and yet you make it look expensive, like you’re the only one he wants to see it on. Your lips are pulled into a pretty smile that lights up your eyes, only highlighting your best features like your cheeks and your nose.

He’s not one for looks, but by god you were one of the most gorgeous girls he’s ever set his eyes on.

“No wonder you keep hiding her from us.” Toge signs, also nearly astonished by how beautiful you look. “Your sister is fucking hot man.”

“Not you too, Toge, she’s barely eighteen, leave her alone-”

Megumi ignores the argument going on behind him, opting to keep looking at your picture. As much as he’s captivated by your beauty, there’s this nagging feeling at the back of his mind that there’s something familiar about you. He can’t shake off the coincidence that you have the same first and last name as someone he used to know and you look like the prettier version of that person.

‘It can’t be her.’ He denies it in his head. The girl that he knew all those years ago would never have been able to afford this university’s tuition without incurring a huge debt. She’d care too much about hurting her single mom’s finances. He keeps staring at the picture and notices you’re holding up your boba drink in one hand, revealing the bracelets on your wrist, which he didn’t pay attention to at first, until something purple and pink catches his eye.

‘That looks really cheap for her to be wearing- wait.’

He squints his eyes a little bit and sees the four letters written on the bracelet “GUMI” boldy.

His mouth groes dry instantly.

‘No fucking way.’

There was a distant past where he was much more free to do whatever he wanted and he didn’t have to worry about the responsibility of taking over the Zenin’s chain of businesses. There were many faceless people in that high school. There were people he brutally beat senseless and there were people who either feared or admired him from afar.

But you were the most memorable because you were a clingy little bitch.

While others avoided him like a plague, you were always beside him, offering to be his “friend” and following him around like fucking insect. You were a pimple-faced, annoying little tramp that he could barely stand.

He could have avoided your affection if he didn’t beat up your bullies that day. He should have never pitied you when he saw you crying in the boys bathroom. It would have saved him the headache of being stuck with you for almost two years in high school.

The only reason he tolerated you for as long as he did was because of Tsumiki. In hindsight, he blames his deceased sister for encouraging your borderline obsession with him because she thought it was cute. He wonders if romantically and mentally you’ve changed. If you’ve grown out of your childish crush on him and forgotten all about your “Gumi” and “Fushiguro-kun”, the things you used to call him with your shrill voice.

When he left that dreaded Academy, he made sure that no one called him “Gumi” ever. He resented that nickname, because it reminded him of you.

You looked happy, fitting right into a society that once rejected you with your pretty hair and manicured nails. Long gone was the wimp that hid behind him, that had to rely on food stamps on your worst days; now you’re a spoiled little brat, having the time of your life without inheriting the responsibility of being a wealthy socialite like he did.

It just made Megumi hate you even more. While he’s stuck with the Zenin clan and paying the price of wealth, you don’t have to do anything. You’re happy. How the hell is any of that fair to him?

Why do you get to be happy?

“You’re staring a bit too hard at the picture, Zenin. Don’t tell me you wanna fuck her too?”

He considers telling the pink haired man that he knew you and all about your pathetic crush on him for a brief moment, but quickly discarded that plan. Like Tsumiki, Yuuji would get the wrong idea and try to get them together.

Instead he rolled his eyes and said in the most bland voice he could muster.

“Not my type.”

Yuuji looks at the tips of Megumi’s ears, noticing them turn red  before looking at the boy again with narrowed eyes.

“Sure.”

  YOU hated dinners with your ‘family’.

Your step-dad, Nanami Kento was not much of a conversationalist and he ate in silence, except to ask to pass the water jug. Your mother was a try-hard, always asking how school is like for both you and Yuuji, like you’re teenagers attending high school and not university students. Yuuji was also a try hard, answering your mother’s questions like his life depended on it.

And you? You don’t want to be here.

You love your mother and would do anything for her. She sacrificed so much for you so that you’d have an education, working so many jobs and encouraging you. Sure, she was a bit harsh on you when it came to your academics and you used to hate it, but you understood back then that she was giving you a chance she never had. With your father a deadbeat and your family members a bunch of self-righteous losers, it was you and her against the world.

But trying to play house with a step-father you barely knew and a brother who would never speak to you on school grounds was tethering on the edge of your patience that you feel lucky that you only have to do this once a week.

Couple that with the stressful day you had in university from dealing with Mai, to the disgusting and perverted comment section on your trending tuesdays posts -that Mai told you to “get used to it” when you said you hated them and wanted it to stop, to nearly being late in submitting an assignment only to be told “looks can only get you so far” as if you’re not trying your hardest in school, you’re just about done with everything.

All you want to do is eat and sleep in your own bed.

The only good thing about your dinner is the unripe plantain, your favourite meal and you’re shocked the chefs made it after debating with your mother about making ethnic foods for her. Maybe your step-father had some choice words with them.

“So how’s school been for you baby girl?”

You internally groan at your mother’s question as your step-father and Yuuji turn their attention towards you. “It’s okay.” you sign back, before continuing with your food, hoping that your mother would get the message that you don’t want to talk about it.

As your luck could have it, your mother did not like the reply. “What do you mean, Okay?” she signs, her brows pinched together in irritation. “That’s not an answer (name).”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh come on baby (name), you’re in college, you should be having fun. I heard from some sources you’re very popular in your school which means you’ve got to have friends right? Why don’t you invite them over? Hell, you should have also met someone cute too that piques your interest or are you still pining over Gumi-”

There’s a tense atmosphere that cuts across the once awkward sphere of the table. Your step father stopped eating the second he saw the enraged look on your face, and his hands facing your mother trying to tell her to “stop-” only for her to aggressively shake her head in dismal, her next words pushing you over the edge. “No, Kento! She’s our child and I have to ask her what she’s been up to-”

“You really want to know what I’ve been up to, mom?” You start to sign, your hands trembling in anger. “You want to know how I’m doing in my business course where no one takes me seriously because I’m too pretty to be smart? Or you want to know how many ‘cute guys’ have threatened to assault me sexually or said something perverted about my body on a school post and how the school refused to take it down when I reported it? Or how I feel so out of place when you seem so well-adjusted with your husband and son, and your only solution is to throw a new black card at me and hope I’m obedient? You really want to know?”

The entire dining table grows silent at your outburst by the time you’re done, heavily breathing as tears threaten to prickle your eyes. Your mother’s features soften, clearly affected by your words and for a second you feel guilty for getting angry at her. Instead, you said out loud whilst tossing your cutlery aside “I’m going to my room. Don’t bother me.” and disappeared up the stairs despite your step father calling out your name until you made it to your room.

Flopping onto your canopy bed the second you enter your room, you’re quick to bury your head in your pillow and let out a guttural scream that you’ve been holding all day. At this point, you don’t care that you’re being rude, your life took a drastic turn the second you turned seventeen and you’ve just been pretending to be okay with it. After years of it just being you and her, these two men barged into your life. You had to up and move from the friends you had finally managed to make, from all your plans to attend a community college for music to an expensive overpriced university in a business course that you hate and from your home that had all your memories into a large mansion that makes you feel insignificant.

You were quickly shuffled into a lifestyle that made you stand out because you weren’t born into money. You had to mingle with people who reminded you of your bullies in high school and laugh with them like you’re not a step from having a mental breakdown, because you need to be significant, you need to network and fit in. You had to pretend you were fine because if you act out the media will drag your mother’s name in the mud.

And you’re all alone dealing with your feelings. Who were you going to tell how inauthentic you felt? How so out of place you felt despite your popularity and you just want to escape it all?

Mai would just tease you for being overdramatic. Momo would tell you that it is what it is as a female socialite and you should swallow it. Maybe Miwa might be sympathetic to your cause but then you remembered she’s supposed to be editing her posts for tiktok tomorrow, so there is no time for you.

There was only one person who would have truly understood and you haven’t seen him in five years.

Feeling nostalgic, you lean over your bed and retrieve a box from underneath. Carefully punching in the code, it opens with a quiet click revealing an old cream sweater kept in good condition, your high school’s logo stitched at the top, three pictures you got at a fair and your old iphone 4 that seems to still work, that all seem so reminiscent of a time so far away yet so close.

Long before you were the IT girl, before you were new money, the girl everyone wants and wants to be.

It was a time when things were so dark that you couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel because you were relentlessly bullied for not being fortunate enough to have money in a school where the rich eat the vulnerable. You had considered ending it all, to stop your mom from constantly coming to school to complain only to return feeling more powerless than ever.

And then he came into your life.

You take the sweater in your arms, gently pressing your nose against the fabric to inhale his scent, preserving it all these years just for comfort. It takes you back to when you were 13, huddled up in a bathroom stall while cradling your broken fingers. You hated life so much back then and you really wanted to die to the point you were googling how many acetamin pills it would take to kill you with your uninjured hand, the bottle containing them just a few feet away from your shaking body. You couldn’t play the harp that you loved because of them, you couldn’t take the emotional abuse and you couldn’t return home to break your mother’s heart by being a pathetic child.

You were planning to die in a boys bathroom stall, ready to swallow the pill when the door flew open. You instantly cowered in fear, spilling the entire bottle on the floor, your heart dropping to your stomach the second you set eyes on the school’s resident bully.

Fushiguro Megumi.

Back then you assumed he was going to laugh at you and then tell everyone what you tried to do. As much as you admired him from afar, you didn’t trust him. You couldn’t trust him. Maybe he was going to kick you aside and take a piss like one other guy had done when you were still barely conscious from earlier.

You didn’t expect him to notice your broken fingers. Or even ask you who did the bullying. And when he did, you had begged him not to get the teacher involved, to which he said. “Who said I’m telling anyone?” before disappearing. You were scared, wondering if he’d call them back to finish the job.

Instead, he dragged the bullies -male and female back to the bathroom for you to watch him beat them up and broke the arm of the guy who crushed your fingers. After he was done, he had taken your unbroken hand in his larger ones to help you up, warmth spreading into your shaking fingers as he steadied you, telling you to step on them.

“W-why?”

“Revenge. Catharsis. Fun.” he had said, his tone rueful. You looked at him with pure fear as he guided you to one the bullies, the girl who started it all. “B-but what if I get in trouble? Or they come for me and hurt me again-”

“Don’t be a square. I’m giving you a chance for payback, so be a good girl and take it.”

“B-but-”

“Do it. I’ll take the blame.”

And true to his word, he did take the blame for both your actions and was suspended for a day. When he came back, you clung onto him like glue, fearful you’d get hurt by those same bullies, but eventually giving way into your heart as you fell head over heels for him. The way he smiled when you said the dumbest stuff. The way his voice sounded, especially when he called your name. The way his hand swallows yours because of how big they were, his comforting scent, everything about Megumi was calming, comforting.

Even your first kiss with him was gentle, sparks flying as he cupped your face in his larger hands.

He could be a bit harsh on you and sometimes, he could say some mean things, he always made it up with some sweet gesture like buying your favourite strawberry drink or spending time with you while you practised the harp.

You loved him so much. You still love him so much. You can’t look at any man the way you looked at him, and you’ve tried. Mai has tried shoving you into a relationship with many guys to try and spice up your reputation but you couldn’t let them even hold your hand, let alone kiss them.

They’re not him. They’ll never be him.

Megumi was not the light at the end of your tunnel, but he took your broken hands in his and let you dance through the thick of the dark times of your life when no one else thought you deserved happiness.

You shed off your juicy couture jacket and shrug on his large sweater, collapsing into your bed with your arms wrapped around yourself. Any time you were upset with anything, you would call him and he’d either listen to you through your sobs or come over to your little house and sneak in with your favourite snacks to watch a movie with you and hold you tight whenever you said you wanted a hug. You wish he hadn’t disappeared when he moved away, that he had at least left you with a number for you to call or text or anything instead of upping and leaving cold turkey.

Tears rolled down your face as you tried to picture him comforting you, over everything that had happened. “Want me to fuck them up?” He’d ask in between murmurs and when you’d shake your head no, he���d click his tongue. He always loved solving problems with violence. “I should, for the way they’re talking to you. You shouldn’t let people take advantage of you.”

‘I miss you Megumi. I miss you so much-’

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts and you’re quick to wipe away your tears with the back of your hand. Not wanting any pity from whoever was at the door -most likely your mother- you put on your best resting bitch face before storming towards it before yanking it open.

Your frown only deepens when you see your step-father at the door. “Did she put you up to this?” Your voice was cold and from how his brows creased in response, you could see he was hurt.

He shakes his head negatively in response, about to say something when you cut him off again. “The dad thing is not going to work, just leave me be.”

You close the door in his face, albeit rudely and flopped on your bed, curling yourself up into a tight ball and sobbing quietly until you fall asleep.

YOUR step-father’s solution to you being upset is to throw money at your face and tell you to ‘do something nice for yourself’.

Mid-class you had received a cash-app alert attached with a message for you to ‘cheer up with this and tell Yuuji to take you shopping.’ and while it annoyed you to no end that he assumed money made you happy, he wasn’t exactly wrong.

You also suspect that he wants you to open up to Yuuji about your problems, as you both are closer in age; which is a dumb plan in hindsight because you know you’re not going to say shit to someone you barely interact with. Step-brother or not.

The second class dismissed you were out of the door, your Hermes bag slung over your arm. Perhaps your step-dad was right about retail therapy, you needed something to blow off steam with after the depressing night you had; being forced to relive your entire day and then cry yourself to sleep thinking about how much you miss Megumi so much.

What you need is to turn off your brain and buy new things that would make you happy, like new trinkets to add to your room.

Feeling giddy, you pick up your phone and go to the IT girls group chat, ready to invite them to your shopping spree since you didn’t want to go on your shopping spree all alone.

“I should text the girls to see if they’ll hang out with me-”

You paused, stopping yourself in your tracks. You’re trying to have fun, not be silently judged and have pictures taken of your spree and uploaded on the internet for weirdos to oogle.

“I need time alone, but not alone alone” you say to yourself. “Yuuji’s the better option, at least he’ll keep to himself if he sees I’m not in the mood to talk.”

With that decision finalised, you found Yuuji’s contact - Yuuji 🏀- and quickly shot him a text that you needed a ride to the mall right now, if he’s free.

“With that done, I’ll get myself strawberry yoghurt to go-”

Your phone dings just as you’re about to tuck it in your bag and you see it’s Yuuji who had replied faster than you anticipated.

Yuuji 🏀 - I’ll be free in an hr, my class will soon be over

Yuuji 🏀- wait in my room at the frat house, I’ll pick you up there.

You frowned. Why the hell will you wait at a fraternity house? For all you know, they’re nothing but nasty, filthy little perverts. Frat bros have a bad reputation, being gross pieces of shit who have no personal boundaries and get away with anything. Mai always told you that they’re a slippery slope and the chances of you meeting a decent one is as good as pigs flying.

You🧋- Heck no. What if something happens to me there?

Yuuji 🏀 - Look, I need to pick you up and drop you off by 3pm before my next class starts and I don’t wanna waste any time

Yuuji 🏀 - besides my friends are there and they know you’re coming. No one will hurt you.

You 🧋- Fine. I’ll be there waiting. Not a minute late or I’ll rip your jlaw posters apart

Abandoning your plan of getting strawberry yoghurt with a secret promise you’d get it later at the mall, you decided to make your way to the Alpha Beta Frat house, much to your chagrin.

  AFTER hitching a ride with the school’s shuttle system within five minutes, you find yourself standing in front of the famed Alpha-Beta house.

The four story building was imposing to say the least, but there wasn’t a challenge you’ve ever backed down from. You casually strolled through the path leading to the front door, grabbing the brass handle and slamming it as hard as possible on the door twice.

‘They ought to hear me that way.’

Sure enough, someone shuffled with the door a few seconds later and opened it, complaints on their lips as the gap widened.

“Who the fuck is knocking on the door like tha- oh-oh h-hey-”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his sudden change of behaviour. You could recognize him from one of your electives, psychology 101 with professor Getou. He usually makes a fool of himself there as he is doing right now, practically drooling all over himself on the front porch like a mangy mutt.

As much as you’d like to watch him pant like a dog and laugh at him later, you couldn’t stand staying outside any longer.

“Where’s Yuuji Itadori’s room?” You ask curtly.

“Uh… the l-last floor, the door on the far end of the left… o-or was it r-right...”

‘Fucking moron’ you curse internally, before putting on a fake, thankful smile on your face and pushed past the awestruck man to get into the house. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out, myself.”

The house was neat, surprisingly, compared to the horrific stories you used to hear from Mai about how filthy fraternity houses are, especially the Alpha beta house under Todo’s rule. As you gingerly walk up the stairs, you notice how not a speck of dust nor a single graffitti lies on the wall, like everything had been polished and cleaned constantly.

Yuuji had made an off comment about the new president being a clean freak and would beat anyone up for leaving as much as wrapping paper on the floor without picking it up. “It runs in the Zenin’s I guess.” He had signed on a particular dinner night. “The last Zenin leader had done the exact same thing.”

As much as you hate the Zenin men and have never heard anything good about them, you have to be grateful that this one was dedicated to keeping the damn house clean. Even the frat bros look well dressed in their polo and shorts, and didn’t reek like beer or weed - although you caught some of them looking at you like a piece of meat.

‘At least they don’t try to talk to me. Must be out of respect for Yuuji.’

Eventually you make it to the top floor with two hallways stretching out on either side. You contemplated going to the left for a few seconds, but ultimately headed towards the right, figuring that Yuuji’s room could be there and if it wasn’t, you would just go the other way. You stop at the door at the end of the room, assuming that it’s the right one and open it without knocking.

The first thing that hit you was the fresh scent of jasmines and apricot, two flavours that you would never expect to be mixed together, but worked so well. You took in the surroundings of the large room next, admiring the rather dark academic route it took in terms of design with the large brown curtains hanging over the windows, the low level lighting hanging above your head. The closet was large and the doors were made out tempered, coloured glass, a rather brave choice but it seemed to contribute to the overall look of the room.

Seeing a couch with a coffee table at a corner, you decided to set your bag aside there while you admired the rest of the properties. You never took him for someone who’d have such a good taste for details, especially in terms of decor but he seemed to have exceeded your expectations of him. Even the floor is made up of mahogany wood board as opposed to the rest of the marble floors in the house.

You walk up to the medium sized reading table, admiring the hanging shelves over it stacked with books. The table was as clean as the rest of the room, each knick-knack and stationery arranged accordingly. Your eyes caught sight of the trophy case standing next to the closet in its own case and you walked up to it, admiring the sheer size. It was to be expected, since he had been on the varsity of his school team and was really good at sports. You take up one hand and trace a line over the case, carefully looking at the achievements.

“1st place at the Wimbledon championship, Male singles”

‘Interesting, I didn’t know Yuuji played tennis. I thought he mostly focused on basketball and track and field in school- oh, oh no-’

The second you read the next line your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Zenin Megumi”

Fuck, you were the wrong room. You should have known, the level organisation of this room and the lack of Jennifer Lawrence posters on the wall was too suspicious.

“I need to get out of this room as fast as possible-”

“What the hell are you doing in my room?”

As if things couldn’t get any worse.

Your body grew rigid at the sound of a male voice right behind you, too scared to turn around, sweating bullets despite the air conditioning of the room at being caught red handed like a fucking creep in some random guys room.

‘Oh god, how am I going to explain myself that it was an accident and I was going to Yuuji’s room?’

“I’m very sure I asked you a question. What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

Wait. That voice.

They say when you spend time away from someone, you usually forget a lot of things, like their scent, the sound of their voice, and even the way they look. But not you. You remember that voice as clear as a day. You know that Megumi Fushiguro’s voice deepened rather early, you know that bored, dead tone from anywhere, even in your grave.

The dots began to connect in your head as you matched the name to his voice.

‘It can’t be…’ 

You turn around, heart thumping loudly in your chest as you turn to look at the man standing behind you, glossy eyes taking in the features. The dark spiky hair that always seemed difficult to maintain, the blue eyes staring down at you, the slope of his nose, his lips, even his imposing height - being far taller than all those years ago.

“Megumi?”

Tears of joy blind you to the way his jaw tenses and without thinking, you engulf him in a warm hug, pressing your teary face into his broad chest.

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you. I’ve looked for you everywhere.” You blab, not realising how rigid he stood, not returning your hug. You assumed it’s because he’s not an affectionate person, and you’ve never minded it. “I missed you so much. I asked everyone that knew you and you were just gone-”

“Hey, Megs, have you seen my sister? I told her to wait for me in my room but I think she came into yours- oh, am I interrupting something?”

All it took was Yuuji coming into the room for you to be dragged back into reality, because Megumi is quick to place two hands on your shoulders, his grip nearly vice-like and pried you off himself before roughly shoving you towards your step brother. You let out a pained gasp as Yuuji catches you in time.

“Megumi what the fuck is your issue?”

You cannot see his facial expression, but you can feel his steely, unwelcoming gaze burning holes at the back of your head, making your heart drop further. “You’d do the same thing too if a random stranger hugged you out of nowhere.”

“She is not a stranger, she’s my sister and you don’t get to manhandle her the way you do to your other girls. Even if she’s in the wrong.”

“Well tell your step-sister to get her bag off my couch and take her out of here before I come back.” he snapped back.

You can’t believe your ears. Sure, you look different from how you did five years prior but was it so bad he couldn’t recognize you? 

You’re brought out of your thoughts when the dark haired man walks past you both and without thinking you push Yuuji away, attempting to follow him. Your step-brother comes between you and the door, holding you by your forearms to prevent you from following Megumi.

“No, (name), stop. Just tell me what’s going on-” 

You stay mute, evading Yuuji’s grasp and dash out of the door, following after Megumi. His legs were longer than yours and you had to speed up, nearly tripping on the stairs as you followed him into the common room, Yuuji not too far off. You reached him, grasping his wrist in a desperate attempt to get his attention. He freezes for a second but soon his shock turns to anger as he swivels his head to look at you.

“What the hell do you want?” He barked.

You flinch, remembering how frightening he could be when he lost his temper but push down your fear to look up at him, your gaze soft as you try to remind him that it's you. “G-gumi it's me!” You stutter out, trembling as you jumble through your words. “(Name) (last name)... w-we went to school together, you can recognize m-me right?”

It only seems like you’re making things worse, because he’s looking at you like he wants to wrap his hands around your throat and kill you for touching him. He yanks his hand away from you, his lips curled up in a sneer. “Keep following me around and you won’t be recognizable for long.”

No, no, this isn’t right. Sure Megumi was so hostile but not like this to you. He would never, ever threaten to put his hands on you, not even as a joke. This isn’t the Megumi you know, this cannot be the person you idolised, that you loved all those years.

This stranger is wearing Megumi’s face, saying things that your Gumi would never EVER say.

He walked away and you followed him down the stairs into the living room, ignoring the surprised stares of other frat members, watching you call after him desperately, “ ‘Gumi, Gumi! Wait, it’s me! I-i still have the bracelet we made together-” not caring how crazy you looked now. You need to understand why the hell Megumi was treating you like he’s never met you before, there has to be an explanation.

He doesn’t turn around or pay attention to your incessant cries, maintaining his ignorance. “Get lost. I don’t know you.” he says casually, almost as if he seems amused you’re embarrassing yourself. “Yuuji, get your crazy sister away from me.”

You feel lost, heart dropping to your feet at his words. Being reduced to nothing but a mere stranger after years of pining for him. Shame crawls up to your skin as you feel the entire house look at you like you’ve truly lost your mind for chasing after Megumi, humbling you completely. Yuuji catches up to you, a hand wrapped around your arm, trying to tug you away gently, but you’re rooted to the spot, unable to move.

‘T-there’s no way.’ Your head spins, trying to figure out what you did to offend him. Where did it all go wrong? Wasn’t this supposed to be the both of you reuniting? Rekindling your relationship? Even if he just acknowledged knowing you, you would have been satisfied. So why was he acting this way? ‘Does he truly not remember me? Or… is he… trying to pretend I don’t exist?’

There’s only one way to figure it out. There is one name that Megumi would answer to, no matter what.

“You say you don’t remember me, but we both know that’s not true.” You push Yuuji off again and tell him to stay out of it, taking a step forward with your back straight. It takes everything in you to keep your composure, not wanting to cry in front of these men. “Even after all these years, I can still tell it’s you. Have I changed so much you can’t recognize me?”

“Can you stop this madness-”

“Look me in eye and tell me that you don’t remember me Fushiguro-kun!”

The entire house goes silent. You’re breathing hard as Megumi abruptly stops in his tracks, slowly turning around to look at you. Your mouth goes dry when you see a flicker of fury in those blue eyes, before he masks it with a cold gaze.

“You really can’t take a hint, can you (name)? Years of maturing and you’re still so stupid.”

The way his tone is so even, without any hint of emotion feels like an ice bucket of water has been thrown on you. 

“Is that all you have to say?” Your voice is trembling as you look at him incredulously. “After disappearing for five fucking years on me without a trace? All this time, I cried and waited for you! I thought something bad had happened to you-”

“How is that my problem?”  He scoffed, now folding his arms across his chest, staring down at you like you’re the dirt beneath his feet and you instantly shrink underneath his gaze. “Don’t tell me you’re still obsessed with me? For five years? That’s really pathetic.”

Pathetic? How is it pathetic to be in love with someone who was supposed to love you back? Were you really pathetic to keep him in your heart all these years? “I-i don’t understand, y-you asked me to be your girlfriend right before you left! Y-you said you liked me-”

“We were in high school. I was a horny teenager and you were there. I said something nice so that I could mess around with you.” He groaned, uncaring that his words were hurting you. That he was admitting to just seeing you as a means to an end. “Don’t tell me all these years you believed the shit I said about liking you?”

‘This can’t be right.’ Your eyes are wide with shock, unable to comprehend the madness coming out from his mouth. Each word that he uttered takes apart your fragile heart piece by piece until there is almost nothing left, your frustration and anger rising with the entire situation. ‘No, no- this isn’t Gumi. He-he’d never do this to m-me-’

“I-i kept the bracelet we both made, to carry u-us with each other-”

“You mean the one with your nickname you gave to me? I threw it away the second I left for a new school.” He looks down at your wrist, a wry smile forming on his lips as he chuckles darkly. “Seems like you still wear yours.”

Your face felt hot as all eyes fell on you, embarrassment flooding your features. Megumi had practically made it known that you were nothing to him and he didn’t even consider you once when he left, in front of all of his frat members, while you pined after him like a desperate girl.

Thinking back to high school, it made sense now that he never loved you. He was always cold to you until you begged him. He refused to be seen with you in public but would make out with you in hidden corners of the school, then go back to pretending he doesn’t know you in front of his friends.

For years you had this idealised version of your Gumi in your head but now you realised you chose to believe in your own delusions.

You kept his sweater, his pictures, his gifts in a special box and his memories in your heart. You cried over him until you got ill when he disappeared and you even tried to run away from home to find him. You refused to date guys Mai would push your way because you were waiting for him.

You gave away five years of your happiness crying over someone that hates you.

You watch through teary eyes as Megumi leans close enough to you until his breath tickles your ears, whispering in a harsh voice, just for you to hear.

“Did you really think I’d like you now because you’re dressed like a skank? Wear all the fancy clothes you want, you’ll always be an insecure whiny brat who looks for affection everywhere but won’t find it.”

“You’re lying.” You spit back. You want to hurt him back, to make him feel the same way he’s made you feel; angry, humiliated. “There are tons of guys who will be lining up to fuck me the second I give the green light.”

“Exactly. They’ll want to fuck you, but they’ll never ever date you.”

Any form of self-worth or self-confidence you might have built up, came crashing down the second he said those words. You’re left standing there as he stood upright again, frozen at the way his words managed to unearth the insecurities you’ve tried your best to hide. You look at Megumi with tears in your eyes, defiant before taking a deep breath and composing yourself, blinking away tears.

Five years ago, if he had said these things to you, you would have cried. But you’re not a kid and you’d be damned if you shed tears for him in front of all the Alpha Beta boys and looked more pathetic than you already were.

“Yuuji, pass me my bag.”

Your step-brother holds it out for you, and without looking, you snatched it out of his hand. At least, he’s not trying to act like a good brother and getting in between your fight with Megumi. Maybe he knows it would make the situation worse.

You look at Megumi again, your once adoring gaze turned to that of anger and sadness. By God, he had become more handsome than ever, but it seems the Zenin’s have rottened him to the core. You look at his eyes again and see that his eyes are dull, like there is no life in them; like he’s dealing with perpetual sadness. He was always depressed in high school and you considered using the fact he used to cut the pain away too often to hurt him, but ultimately decided against it.

You were not going down that road. You still loved him more than you wanted to hurt him, even if it felt pathetic to do so like he said.

“You’re right.” You begin, a sad smile forming on your lips. “I’m pathetic. But at least I’m not as miserable as you are. Have a nice life, Zenin.”

With that, you walk past him with your head held up high and leave the frat house with a forced smile, ignoring the way your legs felt like jelly. It’s not until you enter a shuttle towards the Kappa sorority house that the crushing weight of humiliation and betrayal wears you down that you burst into tears.

Bonus:

‘Fuck, (name), keep squeezing me like that, Shiittt’

Megumi knows he’s a piece of shit. Ever since he entered the Zenin household and shed his Fushiguro last name, he’s been hitting one low to another, seemingly unaware of where the rock bottom is. He knows he’s done abhorrent, corrupt things that normal people would scrunch their nose in disgust. The Zenin’s are never afraid to get their hands dirty and he had to learn that at an early age if he had any chance of surviving that household.

But this was a new low, even for him.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, hair sticking to his forehead, glistening down his muscular body. His hips give timed thrusts, angled just right to send pleasurable waves through his body, hitting the right spot for the girl under him. Each movement elicits a soft moan from Hana, muffled by the position she was in; face down on his king sized bed with his hand pressing her face against the pillow, her torso held up by his arm around it whilst his cock pistoned in and out of her poor abused pussy.

On a normal day, it fed his large ego if she was crying out his name for everyone to hear it. He secretly prided himself in ruining a girl, making her cry for him and then tossing her aside. And they always crawl back, eager to do whatever he wants and give in to his selfish needs, no matter how shitty he treats them.

But today, he didn’t want to hear Hana say his name. He wished it was you.

And by god he hated it. He hated you so much.

If there was anything about you that never changed, it’s how you saw through him. Right in high school, you always knew when he was upset, even when he didn't say anything or act out; those times you would sit in silence and push your favourite strawberry yoghurt in his hands to make him feel better. Even in the midst of him tearing you apart, you had the audacity to call him miserable.

And he knows you’re right, but hearing it come out from your mouth hurts him, opening up a part of him that he buried in his heart.

How dare you make him feel vulnerable?

He wishes it was you he had in this position, but instead of pushing your head down, he’d grab you by your neck and make the entire house hear you cry. He’d fuck you like a slut, make you cum all over his cock so hard multiple times, until you couldn’t think about it. He wishes it’s your cunt he was fucking like a mad man, that was squeezing him like this so deliciously as he angled it to your g-spot, hearing your sharp in take of breath, trying to stave your orgasm off.

There’s a burning sensation at the back of his mind that aches for your body. He wants to be the one you’re the most vulnerable with, so that he can throw it back in your face. He wants to take his misery out on you.

 “ ‘s too much, t’much- Gumi gonna cum-”

“Shut up” he snarled at her angrily. She called him that stupid name you always call him. No matter what he does, you keep haunting him everywhere he goes. “You’ll put me off if you talk. Just cum.”

And goodness, Hana has no self-worth as she cums hard, crying out his name over and over again. Megumi pretends it's your voice, that it’s you whining for him and it pushes him over the edge. He cums hard into the condom with a quiet groan, his body violently trembling as he rides his high, your face at the back of his mind until he’s spent.

He slowly removes his hand off her head and drags his cock out, letting her body fall limp onto his bed. He rolled over to face the ceiling in an attempt to catch his breath from having the best orgasm of his life.

Because he was thinking about you.

He knows it’s definitely not love. He doesn’t love anyone and he doesn’t care about anyone else beyond what he can gain. And he definitely enjoyed hurting you, making you cry. He enjoyed dragging you down to his level and he’s sure that’s not what someone who is in love does to the person they care about.

He is brought out of his thoughts when Hana rolls on her back, white hair splayed on his pillows, frowning like she’s dissatisfied with something he did.

Which is weird, he’s sure he made her cum.

Normally, he didn’t care and he would never ask, but today, he’s feeling a bit generous. "What’s up with you?” He asked. “You didn’t like it?”

There is a nervous pause, with her biting her lip anxiously, like she’s afraid of saying something that would offend him. It’s clear that whatever has been on her mind must be serious. Eventually, she takes a deep breath and starts talking.

“N-no, I liked today’s session, it’s just…” she mumbled, biting her lip nervously. Megumi raised a brow at her statement. “It’s just what? Spit it out.”

“You kept on calling me (name).”

‘Fuck.’

e-boys taglist: @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @reiners-milkbiddies @gh0stgirl333 @megumisdivinedogs @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @Lovelyartistz @lik0 @iluv-ace @lovely-maryj @slvdsjjk @espresso1patronum @aegsland @madison777x

also available on wattpad under the name "Stupid Love"

[mayasaura]

Hi! Any thoughts on the first paragraph in chapter three of Harrow the Ninth?

“She was named for her father who was named for his mother, who was named for some unsmiling extramural penitent sworn into the silent marriage bed of the Locked Tomb. This had been common. Dearburh had never practiced Resurrection purity. Their only aim was to keep the necromantic lineage of the tomb-keepers unbroken.”

Particularly interested to hear if “extramural penitent” and “practiced resurrection purity” means anything to you. Any ideas? Thank you so much!

I do have ideas!! Starting with a definition, since I know I had to look this up. Extramural is derived from the Latin "extra muros" and means "outside the walls/boundaries". It's apparently mainly used at universities, where extramural courses are classes offered for people not enrolled as students, and extramural funding means grants or other money sourced from outside the university. Stuff like that.

So an extramural penitent would be a penitent—someone who has joined the Ninth orders—originating from outside the Ninth House. An immigrant. Most likely someone who came to the Ninth on pilgrimage and never left.

Resurrection purity is something obviously unique to tlt setting, but in context.... the way it's said, it sounds like not practicing Resurrection purity logically follows from extramural marriages being common. Meaning that extramural marriages are incompatible with Resurrection purity.

The simplest explanation is that Resurrection purity is some kind of Nine Houses segregationist ideology. One that believes a person shouldn't marry or reproduce with someone whose ancestors were resurrected on another House.

The quote here says that Drearburh—the line of Reverend Mothers and Fathers—never practiced it, so it's likely not very deeply engrained in Ninth culture, but it's definitely there. Mostly coming from Crux, though Harrow—who was raised by Crux—casually says a few things that raise the eyebrows.

I wonder how common an opinion it is. The Sixth obviously don't fuck with it, seeing as they have a whole occupation dedicated to extramural fucking. I'm guessing it's big on the Eighth, with the way Silas tried to guess Gideon's mother's house of origin from her phenotype. Unprompted even, like it was a normal thing to do.

I love how much this series can imply with so little. It's fucking dense pal. Like dark matter. Or a cake without baking soda.

[sserrafeim]

I’m going to hold your hand when I say this:

Feyre isn’t a bad artist. She doesn’t draw stick figures. She’s not a bad warrior either. The inner circle is her family, they wouldn’t be mad at her for painting the walls of a magic cabin that can clean itself. She’s not a breeding mule for having a child, neither is she too young for one, given that having a child was her choice and something she discussed with her partner beforehand. She didn’t lie and wasn’t manipulated when she recognised a male character’s abuse for what it was, no matter how much you want to justify his actions.

Nesta isn’t a bad dancer. It’s mentioned, and later shown, how she can enchant people with a mere dance. She’s not a bitch for dealing with her trauma in a way that you don’t like or you don’t think is “fit for a woman.”

Elain isn’t bad at baking. She isn’t stupid and a coward for choosing to live a simple life without violence, something she detests. She still needs time to accept her turning into fae, having a mate, and let go of the last.

Morrigan isn’t a whore for wearing revealing clothes. She isn’t a stupid manipulative bitch for not reciprocating a man’s feelings towards her or for not feeling safe and comfortable around a man that hurt her, no matter how attractive both men might be. You can’t blame her for not feeling ready to reveal her romantic and sexual preferences to her chosen family when she’s spent years being abused and ridiculed by her blood relatives.

Amren isn’t a bitch for being born a creature of terrifying power that doesn’t feel a single emotion and has no real free will, created only to follow her father’s orders. She can’t be blamed for not reacting to most things the way people would do when emotions are a new thing to her after living thousands of years without them.

Gwyn didn’t fake her rape. She has no intention of infiltrating a group of people for nefarious purposes or luring a man away from another woman. She spent years in a sanctuary trying to regain her identity and bodily autonomy after being brutally assaulted and witnessing the decapitation of her sister, the only family she had left. Her decision to take her life back in her hands wasn’t made with an ulterior motive. You can’t blame her for a man’s actions and feelings (ACOSF bonus chapter) because it “threatens your ship.”

Emerie spent her whole life being afraid of her father, thinking he would kill her. She suffered him after he beat her mother to death and had to endure everyone praising him for being a “good man” when not even her wings were spared from his cruelty. She then had to suffer the threats and humiliation of other male relatives, and not, after her father’s death, because she ran a shop by her own.

The Valkyries isn’t a stupid plot about women training as warriors and surface-level feminism. It’s about women reclaiming their lives after horrible things were done to them and gaining the power to prevent it from happening again to them or other unprotected women. Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie winning the Blood Rite wasn’t “unrealistic.” They trained for that and they trained even before knowing they were going to compete. It wasn’t a senseless victory for the sake of plot.

The obsession this fandom has with diminishing female characters, friendships, and traumatic experiences of said characters for the sake of uplifting the male ones in the series is wrong on so many levels and it has to stop. It’s not “critically thinking” or “valid criticism”, it’s misogyny. Deep-rooted misogyny. It’s ironic in a way, reading a book series that is all about women healing, discovering themselves and finding true love and friendship, only to shit on its female characters.

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 6}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: With the splinter of wood and a muttered insult, you're done. You're done with the town; you're done with the hot and cold from Joel. You're tired and you don't have anymore fight left.

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, heavy angst, blood, mild injuries, description of stitches, reader had a mild injury, the holidays are hard, a lot on internal monologue in this (both joel pov and reader), hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, though he is a bit daft in this, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, hurt and comfort, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, kissing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably angsty, reader loses her cool, argumentative language, heated arguments, threatening language, fighting, wwe smackdown, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: okay, this is the penultimate chapter! this series grew into something way beyond a cheeky handful of scenes that were just a random thought six months ago. it's been a joy to write for these two, i've put so much of myself in olive and for y'all to root for her and love her really warms my heart. the interaction with this has been insane and i love all of it, i love y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Sleep was such a pull on your psyche as the wind outside howled, battering anything that wasn’t secure and echoing loudly through the empty streets of Jackson. The habit of waking up throughout the night to peer outside your bedroom window and toward the small slip of the front street over your backyard fence periodically had been amplified in the storm. Unease settled in you, the storm bringing back memories you would father let fade into nothing. Inclement weather had been a challenge back when the world was whole, when safety measures were in place, when medical aid was abundant, when homes and buildings were constructed with them in mind. But even back then, they had been devastating.

And now?

They were as deadly as the virus.

Incessant snowfall all through the night, the light sprinkle of it last night turning into slanted sheets of downpour. It was blindingly bright on the other side of the windowpanes.

Despite the lockdown put in place by the council, you had told Maria depending on the streets that you would still make it to the mess hall. The intention of baking some breakfast casseroles hard to shake, of wanting to provide for those who may not have stock in their homes, or who relied on the mess hall as a main source of food. Layering as much as you could to combat the below freezing temperature, you pulled on your boots by the front door. Grabbing a knit cap and a scarf, you opened your front door and trudged through the snow drifts that had formed overnight.

Joel is panicking before he’s even fully conscious. His heart feels like it’s stopped but knows that it’s beating far too fast. His entire body feels weak and achy, his head pounding and overflowing with too many things. He felt nauseous, the drag of his lungs and the slushing of his stomach too much for him to handle. He groaned, pressing his face further into the pillow, the scent of his body wash wafting up and making it even worse.

He fucked up. He knows he did.

You had raised your voice at him, refused his help, his touch. Even as you laid collapsed on the ground because he had accidently knocked you down. You had been so worked up, so angry, but he had seen the way you clutched to your middle as you fled from him for a second time. He cursed low, the words a growl as he kicked the blankets from his sweating body despite the chills crawling down his spine.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He knew that woman was bound to be nothing but trouble. She was always a little too chatty for him, too willing to burst his bubble of personal space. But she had wiggled her way into his life and coerced him into a huge project that had taken so much of his free time leading up to the holidays.

He was a giving man, having been influenced by the acceptance he had been given here in the settlement, wanted to do what he could to help establish himself here. Not wanting to go back to the eat or be eaten mantra of the outside world or a collapsing quarantine zone. He had wanted to be everything he could manage for Ellie, to keep her safe here in a place that would allow for her to heal from the things they endured together. To survive in a way she hadn’t had the chance to, to have a life that wasn’t all bad. He had done his best to integrate, to be someone she could look up to and feel safe around. All of it had been for her, to have holidays, to have friends, to have a chance at finding out who she was without the undercurrent of survival being the only inspiration. And maybe ha had wanted it for himself too.

He had wanted to invite you over, try his hand at making you something for a change. If you had teased him over it, so be it, he would’ve taken it without argument. Just to see your lips quirk up and your soft laughter ring in the air of his kitchen. He would give anything for it to be his to witness.

The faux image of the domestic scene melted away, replaced by the one of you on the ground at his feet, with fear in your eyes. He hadn’t thought you were afraid of him, so open and willing to be in his space.

To tease him and lightly berate him when his answers were less than appropriate or too gruff.

Joel had never shown violence or distaste toward you, but yeah maybe he had been quieter or moodier on some patrols. But he wouldn’t get the chance to speak with you today. Patrols cancelled until the blizzard raging outside calmed down. A safety precaution that had been made lightly by the council. The risk of a group or pair getting stuck, of horses unable to handle it, of snow drifts forming and virtually undetectable, all of it had been taken into consideration. He wasn’t sure you were even cleared for patrol with your stitches. No pain killers you had said, reserved for extreme cases with how the supply was dwindled down to too little for a town of a few hundred.

Groaning as his head hammered, Joel shoved up from the bed, the blue sheets showing damp spots from his sweating and aching body. Scowling, he stripped the bed and made his way downstairs with them bundled in his arms. He felt a weird sense of déjà vu as he stuffed them into the top loading washer, reaching for the jar of powdered soap and pouring in a scoop. It was all so fucking normal. But his whole world felt like it was tilted, off kilter. Even more so than normal.

And it was because he knew he fucked up. He had hurt you, he had seen in it your eyes as you took in the way Marsha was clinging to him in her drunken state. The way she had deemed herself important enough to impinge on his time with you, so rare within the walls. Both of you so busy and both of you so afraid to ask after each other’s time. He knew he was, because he didn’t want to intrude on the way you kept to yourself, how you let your errands build up to take a whole day sometimes. And he knew some of that was because of the way people wouldn’t hold conversations with you, let alone start them. Opting to keep to yourself as a coping mechanism. Not wanting to feel like you were imposing yourself on the people who didn’t want to interact with you. He knew, because he had felt much the same way back in the quarantine zones, even if it was more born out of fear than distaste like it was for you.

He knew when you stumbled over your words to ask after him crafting something for you that you had worried yourself into a state before you even did it. Worried about taking up his time, taking up his resources, even if you had supplied him with the wood for the project. He had felt like a complete ass when you shut down and walked away, having felt comfortable enough to ask for something more when he had agreed to the first.

But Marsha. Marsha and her ill-placed infatuation with him had ruined the moment last night. You had told him you liked him, liked him. The heat he felt from you as he leaned in close and wanted to tell you he felt the same way. Shared and stolen kisses could only infer so much. And he groaned at the memory of pulling your hand over his erection the other morning. He was a damn fool to have done that, you had been pulling your hand away, but you had been touching him in his sleep. When he wasn’t able to tell you no, when something inevitably broke the moment, when something startled you or you thought too hard about it. You had just done it and the dilation of your eyes watching him, the hitch of your breaths, it had all been too tempting. He wouldn’t have told you no and he would’ve ignored the world ending all over again if it meant he could be with you in that way, even just once.

The older woman broken another tentative moment between you two. With the courage of alcohol flowing in her veins. It had made her bold in her words to him, her sentiments, her actions. Hell, the only reason he hadn’t heard your steps on the street was that he had been in shock. She had surged up and pressed her lips to his after he had denied her offer of a nightcap. He had just been trying to walk her home and make sure she was safe, even if he wasn’t overly fond of her, her friends had all been too unaware of themselves to help her.

Anger had overridden the shock; how dare she think she could do that. His heart wasn’t his to give, it was yours. And he had been about to tell you so.

The weak arguments of the woman defending herself and the gift she had gotten him even if she hadn’t gotten his name in the exchange for today had blurred his senses even more. His mind focused on the holiday, on taking you the gift he had made along with his heart. Hoping that today would be the day things were out in the open, plainly spoken and accepted. He only worried about how well you would receive him after being caught with Marsha last night.

Today.

Today was Christmas and the town was in a semi-state of lockdown with the strong winds and flurries of show raining down to collect along the streets. The bite to the air the worst of the season so far. Turning the washer on, he moved toward the coffee maker. Only to discover that he was out of grounds to brew.

With a string of muttered curses, Joel bundled up and braved the weather to cross the street.

He needed coffee and the gift he had left with Maria yesterday.

Tommy was pacing back and forth, waiting for the second pot of coffee to finish brewing. It had been an early morning, Maria rising hours ago and taking off with another neighbor to trek toward the mess hall where you had diligently showed up for your shift. Everyone had been advised late last night to remain indoors unless absolutely necessary.

A knocking barely echoed through the still howling wind. Thankfully, the snow had stopped, though it was built up deep all around the settlement.

A few moments later and both men were seated in the living room, the tea light candles flickering underneath two names etched in chalk above the mantle.

“She won’t be home much today.” Tommy supplied, reading the anxious silence Joel was stewing in beside him. “She trekked through one of the worst bouts of this weather to get to the mess hall. Wanted to make sure everyone had something to eat in case the power stutters or goes out. Her, Maria, and a couple others are gonna deliver meals door to door.”

“She’s too good for how people treat her.”

“From what I hear, you haven’t been treatin’ her too good either, brother.” Tommy took a long pull from his mug before he set it down on the coffee table. “She was over here after that overnight patrol, helpin’ with Macon. Was so tired she was rambling about how much she appreciates everything you do ‘round here, how talented you are, how nice you are to her. But then if you’re so nice, why doesn’t she have one of the cutting boards that was her idea.”

“It ain’t that simple. I can be nice to her and not have one of ‘em for her.” Joel couldn’t turn to look at his brother, knowing how easily he would read him. Read the anxiety and worry he felt over the entire situation. All the miscommunication. All the mixed signals he had been giving you without realizing it. He thought you had opted to not talk about the kiss because you were uncomfortable, because you were worried he hadn’t liked it or wanted it. Because he hadn’t exactly told you that he did, that he dreamt of kissing you, of holding you, of protecting and providing for you. Spending quiet evenings in with homemade meals, nights out at the bar, helping you with the harvest again next fall. All of it, he thought about all of it with you.

“Why don't you just make her one, I don’t get it."

"Drop it, Tommy, she's not getting one."

"I thought you liked her, I thought...I thought I saw you two kissing the other night. Sure as hell looked like she had been caught red-handed."

"We…we were. We have, a few times., but she thinks I’m with Marsha because that…insane woman has taken such a liking to me. Saw me walking her home from the bar the last night because she downed far too many shots and Millie was nowhere to be seen.”

“She knows you, trusts you not to do that to her if you’ve shown interest. Just give her a cutting board and I’m sure it’ll all blow over. That's all she wants Joel, to feel included. Like she's a part of something.” Tommy was wringing his hands in, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought over his next words. “A lot of people have them and she doesn't. It's basically an insult thrown in her face."

“Fuck, I didn't think of it like that."

The sip of coffee Joel took turned bitter in his mouth. He really hadn’t thought of it like that. He had just been trying to hone his skills with the new craft before gifting you the best one he could make. He set down the mug, stomach turning as the acid settled heavy. Rubbing his palms roughly over his face, rustling the thick hairs of his moustache.

"She's going to ask to be taken off patrol, Joel. She did ask before you showed up, stop it altogether and just focus on the mess hall. She feels like it would be easier to avoid the looks and gossip. We know about it, the council, but there’s not much we can do about it.” Tommy was obviously upset, his voice thick as he divulged something you had gone to him in a moment of weakness. He recalled the way you had been in tears, hurt beyond words by the acceptance that Joel and Ellie had been given as newcomers when you had been here for years and how upset you were at yourself for being jealous of it.

“But she kept at it as a favor for me, to help me keep you alive. To help me feel okay with not being by your side out beyond the walls when I couldn’t be. Because I worry, I worry so damn much about you brother and I just want you to be okay. She saw that, she saw that and took it onto her own shoulders because she cares about me.”

Joel sighed, his brothers words blossoming warmth in his chest.

“I am going to make her one, Tommy. From that piece of trunk I had you help me get from her yard. But it’s drying, the slabs I got from it. Already lost one and the other two need to dry.” He huffed out, chest tight as he thought of how long it would take. “She said the wood she brought me for those spoons took months to dry.”

“They’re beautiful, the whole set. I’m sure she’ll love them.” Tommy nodded to the box that contained them on in the kitchen. Of course he had looked them over, finding them when he had woken up and curious as to how they ended up in his own if your name was scribbled on the top of the box.

“But she came to me and asked for them, Tommy. It’s not gonna be the same if what you’re sayin’ is true. It’ll feel like a consolation when it’s not. It’s just the beginning of what I’m willin’ to give to her.”

“Then you should tell her that. She deserves to hear it.”

You ignored the knocking at your door, sleep keeping you weighted to the couch in your living room.

But the crack of wood and the clash of metal following a loud gust of wind had you surging up to your feet.

“Shit-“ A grunted curse was the only greeting you got before the door swung open to reveal the large shadow of Joel just outside of it.

“Joel? Why the hell would you break down my door?”

“It was an accident, I was just knocking and the wind got me-“

“Forced your way into my home? I thought I told you to leave me alone.” You hugged yourself, arms tight as you tried to shield away from the chill creeping into the living room.

“I-I-I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry. Please, I wouldn’t-“ He stumbled over his words, turning his back to you in order to try and set the door back into the frame. The wood was splintered around the lock, preventing it from shutting completely. He leaned down to get a closer look at the damage. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna have to probably make you a whole new door.”

“Just go, Joel. Please.” You clenched your eyes shut and walked away from the honeyed drawl, ignoring the pull it had on you to move closer. The kettle in the kitchen was just beginning to whistle and you removed it from the stove. But instead of gathering up a mug and the loose leaf tea from a cabinet, you flattened your palms on the table and hung your head.

You flinched when a wrapped box slid between your arms, pushed by a tan, weathered hand.

“’s for you.”  His voice was so tender, his eyes wide and beseeching when you glanced up.

“No, thank you.” You pushed it back toward him, standing on the other side of the table.

“Olive, please. You said your name always gets thrown out of the exchange. I wanted to and it’s what you asked me for.”

He lifted the top of the box, setting the lid down beside it, the ribbon atop it looking far too cheerful for you. Set inside, amid a soft looking swath of cloth, was a set of wooden utensils tied together with a thick string. He held them out to you, a slight tremble in his hands. They were beautiful, the wood crafted expertly and you shook your head to rid yourself of the image of Joel sat in his desk chair face focused as he took the time to carve them from the block of wood you had taken to him.

“I pushed a lot of stuff back to make sure they were just right. Was so careful with the wood you brought to me, it was dense but I managed to sand it down without altering the look of it too much. I didn’t stain it, to keep the natural color, the grain is really beautiful-“

When you didn’t say anything, eyes focused on his chest, he trailed off. He set the gift back down on the table and took a step back, his mouth snapping shut. His gaze heavy on you as you tried to focus and keep your temper under control. But you were at the end of your patience. This time of the year already hard on you. Paired with the hot and cold from Joel, the judgment from the town, the lack of inclusion on anything going on and you were just tired. Deep down in your bones, exhausted.

“Joel…” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You’re a good man. But I really don’t want to do this with you right now. I need some space because whatever I do, I can’t get you out of my head and it’s ruining me.” Your voice had started off at a normal volume, quickly growing as the words rushed from you. Anger flaring overwhelmingly, leaving you panting, chest heaving and hands clenched at your sides. The set of tied spoons resting on the table between you both, like a line not to be crossed. Like a mockery of the things he was offering you a little too late. Surging, you reached for them and hurled them in a display of anger you had thought you had managed to control. “Take your things and go, Joel Miller!”

They clattered to the floor across the kitchen, skidding along the tile to slam into the baseboards. The wood splintering and covering the floor behind him. But he hadn’t ducked, hadn’t brought his hands up to shield himself. Knowing, knowing that you wouldn’t have aimed them at him even as anger and hurt lit you from the inside out. He saw the remorse flash across your face the second they had left your hand.

Knowing that it was all an act of self-preservation. A way to save face, to save the fact that you had been hurt by his actions, his indiscretions. The memory of turning down the street, his hand wrapped innocently around Marsha, guiding her toward their shared street in her drunken state. And when he had declined the offer for a nightcap, she had pushed into his personal space to crush her lips to his.  Of running smack into you when he had tried to put distance between them, his back colliding with your front and crushing the wrapped gift in your hand. The sound of it thudding to the ground and your surprised shout warbling off into a deep breath of realization.

But the woman before him now was the same one who had taken the time to wrap the gift labeled with his name on it. Had taken the time to hand write recipes on a long-forgotten pack of index cards. Step by step instructions for things easy to combine and make nutritious means from. Had taken the time to include little, silly names for the meals that had pulled a tearful chuckle from him as he read them through in his inebriated state.

“I just want to be left alone. I just want, for one measly second that someone doesn’t watch me and wait for me to screw up, to give them a reason to feel disappointed. I-I can take it from the others, but Joel…I can’t handle it if it’s from y-you. Please just go.”

He didn’t go. He moved closer, into your personal space and he was thankful for the way you didn’t shy away from him even as tears raced down your cheeks. For the way you allowed him to cup your face in his hands and press his lips to yours, thumbs brushing away the tears. For the way your own moved against his as he tilted his head and really kissed you. There was no heat behind it like that last time, just adoration and reverence.

Pulling back, he whispered, “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

He kisses the fear from you, pleading with you to understand that he's not going to turn his back on you.

He only hopes you can feel it. But your hands don’t rise to caress or cup his face, they don’t rise to rest on his chest, they don’t rise to run through his snow dampened hair. Your lips are barely moving against his and his heart sinks. It chips and shatters on the floor to settle with the pieces of broken olive wood.

But it wasn’t enough. It hurt that his attention wasn’t enough when you thought it would be. It was about his actions. How they had made you feel the last couple of months, since summer. The back and forth, the constant miscommunication, the humiliation of wanting a man who had so much more in his life, who was pulled in so many directions. The respect he had from the people within the settlement for the things he could do, for the things he provided to them. The issue of your reception, the possibility of it affecting his own if he were to be seen with you or you seeking out more of him. All of it was too much, the constant internal turmoil, it was heavy.

It was so heavy and you had to put it down.

“Joel,” Gently pushing him back, but not away, his body willingly moving with the motion. “Why didn’t you make me one, a cutting board?”

He froze.

When he sputtered on a few words before falling silent, you detangled from him. Crossing your arms as shield to your heart.

“This is why I keep to myself. It doesn't hurt when there's no one else involved.” Your voice was a low rasp, giving away the fresh wave of tears threatening to spill, the hot throb of them in your throat. “And even if you did try to be my friend, it's okay that you really don't want to be. You share things with people, you're a giver Joel, but I've had to ask for everything you've given to me.”

He could only watch as you closed yourself off, and you hoped he noticed the dark circles under your eyes. That he noticed just how much his attention had ruined you, because it had. You had been okay with how things were before he came along, content to keep to yourself, to spend patrols with Tommy and Maria. You hadn’t longed for companionship before he showed up and rode alongside you and asked simple questions about the town that developed into questions about yourself. Offering answers of his own in return. You hadn’t wanted before him.

“And that's not who i am, someone who asks for things she deserves. So…you standing there with no answer is you telling me that I don't mean anything to you. You don’t get to make me feel like I mean something and then not follow it with actions. I didn't take you for a cruel man. You say you’ve done things to stay alive, to fight for yourself and those in your care. And I wanted to believe that you changed, that you turned over a new leaf here. But you hurt me, Joel. You hurt me in a way that really…was so unfair.”

Once you let the words flow from within you it was hard to stop, they were a flood being released. Voice not stuttering or scrambling over them like you know you tended to do. Mostly from lack of interaction, of not using your voice most days as you spent it alone in the kitchen, home, or garden. The stuttering an anxious thing born of fear of interacting and it turning sour like it quickly tended to do. Words and sentiments always more ammo for those to use against you. And you could see it, in the man across from you, that he had things to say in response to the many words you were giving him. But you couldn’t, you were tired.

“I deserved better than the treatment I received by the people of this community, of this safe haven for those willing to contribute and who wanted something better for themselves. But the truth is…I’m better off alone.”

His voice cracked on the shape of your name on his lips.

But you shook your head, tears flowing freely and breathing labored.

“Just go, please.”

“Well hey there.” A figure approached you, where you were seated on the same stool at the long bar in the Tipsy Bison for the second night in a row. It was the man of the brother and sister duo you had convinced Joel to trust and bring back to the settlement. They had settled in well, Millie taking to the pregnant woman with a swiftness that had surprised you. But they were both close in age, something rare these days, to find friends you could relate to easily.

“Oh, h-hello.” You looked up from the book you had been reading, hearty sandwich on a plate beside your drink. Only a few bites taken out of it. The book holding your attention far more than the simpering hunger in your stomach. You hadn’t eaten all day, stewing in forlorn silence on the couch until your stomach rumbled. Only to find you didn’t have anything that would make a meal in your home, prompting you to brave the calmer but still whipping winds and intermittent snow fall.

“I just saw you from across the room, Tommy Miller said we could grab a bite here since the mess hall was closed for the day with the bad weather from this morning.” Nolan, you recalled his name. Nolan was nice, polite. You didn’t fault him for pointing a gun at you or Callie for managing to injure you. It was a sick, twisted world out in the wasteland of what was, especially if there was an unborn baby to worry about. They had just been doing what they needed to survive another day. “Guess no one wanted to risk working and getting stuck. I’m grabbing something to go I just wanted to thank you again, for helping us.”

“It’s no big deal. Everyone deserves a chance at something more.” You tried to smile, but you felt drained. From the early morning of cooking and delivering meals to front doors for people. Maria had enlisted the help of a handful of people, but it had been time-consuming to prep and make everything yourself. To bundle it all up into packs that would be appropriate servings.

“Would you mind if I joined you?” He moved to sit beside you, startling you at his forwardness. There was a wry glint to his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was fighting off a smile. “While I waited, that is.”

“Oh, t-that’s probably not a good idea. I’m not the most popular here, you’d have better luck integrating with-“

“Whore.” A female voice whispered as someone walked by behind you.

“Excuse me?” You whipped around, shocked at such a blatant display of behavior. You were used to whispers, to errant rumors springing up once you had left a store or a gathering, asked an impertinent question during patrol and general meetings. But this? A direct confrontation was a new level and you were far too tired to handle it. Especially with the day being what it was.

“You heard me, praying on the newcomers to try and sway them on your side.” It was Millie. She was sans coat, having removed it to enjoy her evening in the toasty bar with her gaggle of friends you could see gathered in a booth on the other side of the room. She must’ve come up to the bar for a refill when she decided to imitate her mother and impinge on your rare interactions with people. “I’d be careful if I was you, she tends to get people killed. Don’t want to find yourself the latest victim.”

“The council said that they’re selective of who they let in. Surely they-“ Nolan was trying to be polite, to not overstep his place being so new in such a large community. But you could see the anger in the furrowing of his brow, the frown pulling his lips down, the way his hands were twitching. It was sweet of him to feel the need to try and protect you but this is exactly what you had been worried about. That the two most instigating occupants would try and ostracize him and his sister for associating with you.

“They do, but in her case they should’ve left her out in the woods and let the Infected get her. Be better for everyone if they had.”

You had moved without even thinking. The force of your hand hitting the woman’s cheek loud across the room. The hush of conversation lulling, a tense silence following.

Scrambling to correct the huge mistake you just made, to save face, your words were a breath of stuttered apologies. Your stomach had dropped, no longer a part of your body as your mind moved through the outcomes and ramifications of your thoughtless actions. You had never been one to needlessly lay hands on someone. But…the time you had spent fighting to survive had changed you, altered you beyond what you had been. Your instincts honed and deadly, and you silently thanked whatever force of the universe that was still alive that you had left your knife at home. Otherwise, it would be hilt deep in her chest right now.

It was ugly and it was cruel, but someone could only take so much.

“Millie, oh-oh my god, I’m so sorry. I-“

You didn’t even get to finish your rushed words before she returned the slap, her hand connecting hard with your own cheek.

The sting of it hot, skin throbbing.

And it was like a damn broke. Filling the tunnel and making you desperate for a chance to crawl out.

But instead of breaking out of it into the town, you were transported outside the walls. Relying on your instincts, relying on fighting with everything you had to survive.

You were on her in a flash, not even a second had passed. Both of your knees knocking into the ground around her body. Your hands making contact with any part of her you could. Sounds of her struggling underneath you fly into the air with every punch, every pull of her hair, every push of your body against her. You didn’t care about her nails digging and tearing into your arms, her knees kicking up and colliding hard with your back, her elbows jutting into your ribs. The searing pain of your stitches popping loose.

You didn’t care. You didn’t care. You didn’t care.

Strong arms wrapped around you and pulled, while another held your legs down. Restraining you as you realized you were shouting out that same set of three words over and over again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, calm down.” Soft words, not harsh. And you shouted at them, forced the words from your aching throat, demanding that they let you go. That they leave you alone. Fighting against the people trying to hold you down. You felt your elbow connect with something hard, your knee with something soft and suddenly you were able to stagger to your feet.

Eyes not seeing details, just blurred faces and people standing all around you. Watching. Always just watching. Whispering things behind your back, not interacting with you, ignoring you. And you were done, you didn’t care.  And you shouted it for everyone to hear as you took in the sight of Millie crumpled on the ground. Having turned on her side to try and make herself smaller. Bruises were already blooming along her pretty face, her loose hair a tangled mess. Her nails were chipped and broken from digging them into your skin, the faint sting of them long lines down your arms. Her clothes were rumpled, the exposed skin of her stomach showing signs of bruising as well.

You just stared, unable to draw your gaze away from the whimpering woman. She wasn’t even trying to get up, she wasn’t even trying to fight back anymore. She was just laying there, bellowing out her hurt and looking so pathetic. And it made you feel bad, because she was nothing, would be nothing without the settlement of Jackson. She and her family had been here since the outbreak, safe in their secluded location, safe in the quick thinking of others, safe because of sheer, dumb luck that allowed her to continue being who she had always been.

But even despite the glitter of remorse beginning to shine through, you needed her to understand that you were done. That she had crossed a line she shouldn’t have. That for all the things she said and all the hurt she caused, you were the reason she was allowed to strut around town and act that way. You were the reason she was safe behind these walls and had an abundance of food. You were the god damn reason.

“Don’t you ever lay another hand on me, you understand? I will put up with your words, with your gossip, with you stealing every chance for me to have something good. But you will regret ever thinking of putting your hands on me, you hear me? I will fucking end you and make all your rumors true if you do it again.”

Her shuddering breath was the only response you got from her, but it was enough. You turned your back on her, grabbing your coat from the back of the stool you had been occupying, and walked out into the still falling snow.

“JOEL!” The bellow of his name, loud and alarming, startling him from where he had fallen asleep on the couch. He had collapsed there after returning from your place. He had frozen, all the sentiments he had planned to share with you died on his tongue the second you shared with him how much he had hurt you. It seemed it’s all you had experienced since coming here long before he and Ellie did. He hadn’t wanted to argue with you or belittle the things you had said, so he hadn’t. No words or feelings he had would have righted the wrongs done to you.

He felt unworthy of you, having played a part in it. He felt like he failed you, tricked you into an easy camaraderie when he knew after that first smile it would never be enough for him. He should’ve been honest from the beginning, told you he wanted to be someone to you. But instead, he had botched it, he had fucked up.

“Holy shit, dude, you need to come quick!” Ellie hollered as she barged through the front door, the handle slamming into the wall of the entry way and he had the errant through to put a piece of wood there to prevent it from happening again before it tore through the drywall.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” He was hurtling up, hands reaching for the panting teenager as she came into the living room. Her eyes bright and shining, her hands trembling. She allowed him to pull her into his chest, his heart thudding, anxiety humming through him harsh and hot.

“It’s not me, it’s Olive.”

His heart stopped, his heart stopped because it was no longer in his chest. It was on the floor, bleeding and immobile between their feet.

“Is she…?” He didn’t even know how to finish his sentence. Gone? Hurt? Injured? Stood in front of Marsha or Millie just taking their words directly? The worst thought of all being shaken from his head because he couldn’t bear to give it life.

“She freakin’ lost it. She went ballistic on Millie at the bar. It took two people to pull her off and then she hurt them too. She was shouting all this stuff about how shit people treat her and then she took off.”

“Took off, Ellie, where?” He pushed her back to duck his head and caught her eyes. Worry spiking and making his mind run through all the possibilities. He needed to know where you went, even if you had sent him from your home with a hollow and broken heart.

“I-I don’t know, she just ran out the door and was gone by the time I tried to follow her.” Ellie reached up and held onto his wrists, her fingers wrapping around them and he realized for the thousandth time how small she was. How much things affected her, how her own trauma showed in ways they could both anticipate and in ways they could not. Seeing violence first hand since settling here seemed to have triggered her and he didn’t like it for either of you.

“It’s okay, baby girl. I got you, you’re okay.” He hushed, his words pressed into her forehead. She was trembling and he hated that he couldn’t do anything to help her. She clung to him, the winter already a harder time for her than the rest of the year. Awful memories associated with it that no matter how hard she tried to tamp them down, rose to the surface. He held her, offering his built up warmth to sooth her and when the sniffles stopped he lowered them both to the couch.

“Y-you should go find her, Millie tore her stitches open. They took that ungrateful dumbass to the infirmary. But Olive took off.”  

“Okay, but we’re taking you to Tommy’s okay?”

Minutes later they were across the street and knocking on the front door.

“Tommy, listen, I know it’s late. Believe me I know but Ellie needs to take your guest room and I need to know where Olive would go if she’s upset?” Joel didn’t waste any time, speaking as soon as the door began to open. Tommy just looked at him for a second, eyes taking in the thinly veiled panic on his normally calm and collected brother.

“Joel, what in the hell, what’s going on, what are you talking about?” His eyes snapped into focus, lack of sleep vanishing as he realized something happened.

“Olive, she snapped. Something about Millie starting something with some insults that turned into the two of ‘em going off on each other at the bar. Word is she took off, but she’s not at home and she didn’t come to me. Tommy, where would she go?” Joel ambled into the house, his hands soft on his brother’s shoulders as he tried to get the man to focus.

“She, uh, she’s never done anything like this before. She, um, she could have…” Joel could see that his brother was trying to focus on the situation at hand brought to him in the middle of the night, trying to think on so little sleep and energy.

“Tommy!”

“Maybe the cemetery?”

“The council needs to hold thar girl responsible. She should have to go on Olive’s patrols until she’s healed. I mean it, Tommy. I want it done.” Joel gently guided Ellie to the couch, urging her to sit down so he could wrap the throw blanket on the back of it over her. He moved into the kitchen and started a kettle for a cup of tea. Something soothing for her to find sleep easier.

“Joel, I know you’re upset. But Millie’s never been beyond the gates. Her entire family has been here since the walls went up.”

“And that’s why she feels entitled to act the way she does. Slinging insults and making fun of Olive, holding things against the woman like it’s her fault that despite the walls there are still very real threats out there. Not every one of them is avoidable. She needs to learn somethin’ and she needs to do it quick.”

“I can talk to Maria about it, but yeah, you have my word she’ll be put on patrol. Are they okay though?”

“I can’t say much for Millie, but Ellie said Olive pulled her stitches ‘n I gotta go out and find her.” The kettle began to whistle, and Tommy took over on making tea for himself and his niece.

“Then go find her, make sure she’s alright.”

Joel tried to tamp down his anger as he knocked on the front door. It was a momentary stop on his way to where Tommy suggested. The weather had calmed down, but not enough to make it an easy trek. The winds were still howling, though they weren’t nearly as devastating as earlier, snow floating down in soft waves.

“Joel? Oh, it’s so late, is everything okay?”

“I told you I wasn’t playin’ games with you.” He didn’t try and tamp down the frustration in his voice, it needed an outlet and the woman in front of him was a worthy for it. He cut off her startled question.

“Your daughter instigated a fight with Olive tonight. Called her names for the whole town to hear. Raised her hand and physically accosted her. That your best attempt at helping to ease the tension you’ve caused? That how you think people should be treated after spending hours to ensure everyone in town got breakfast in the midst of a blizzard?”

“Joel, Olive hit first. I’m sure of it.” She moved away from the door, from the bulk of him to shove her hands into a thick jacket and her feet into a pair of boots. Joel slammed his hand on the door frame, anger flaring at the woman’s nonchalance toward you.

“It doesn’t matter! Do you have any idea the torment you’ve caused her over the years? Millie is lucky Olive walked off. Talking to her and approaching her like that unprovoked. Olive was just defending herself. She was minding her own damn business like she always does!”

“Joel, do not raise your-“

“I’ll raise my voice when I damn well want to! You need to hear me and listen: both of your little stunts resulted in Millie going on the roster. She’s Olive’s replacement on my morning patrols now. To ensure she learns just how much of a responsibility it is to protect the settlement and deter her from further disrespect to those that go outside the gates every single day to protect this town.”

“No, no she can’t go outside the walls. She-“ The woman’s hands grappled his arm, desperation making her forget everything else in that moment.

“She will learn that there is more to living in a broken world than hurtful gossip and petty vendettas. Take it up with the council, but they’ve made their decision. Olive is missing. Your daughter is at the infirmary.”

He stalked off, not willing to wait around to hear what other nonsense the woman had to say. He had to find you, You hadn’t gone to his brother’s, which he would’ve thought to be the obvious answer. You hadn’t gone to his, of course maybe you would’ve before this morning. His body aching from sitting on your small stoop waiting for your return only to go there for a moment to find it dark and empty. The winds whipped around him, snow blinding and chilling when flakes got stuck on his eyelashes and in his scruff.  

He needed to tell you. He needed to tell you that he’d pick you over everyone in the whole damn settlement if you’d have him. But first he needed to make sure you were okay in order to do that.

Everything was so fuzzy, the edges of your vision fading. The bright snow all around the streets, falling from the sky, it hurt to look at. It hurt to keep your eyes open, but you did as best you could as you clutched to your bleeding middle and stumbled down empty streets. Blood was warm between your fingers, against your palm. The stitches put in place a few days ago now pulled from your skin and tearing even more damage across the wound there.

It wasn’t cold anymore, not by the time you had made it through the creaking iron gate and settled in front of a headstone. Everything was numb and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up as you realized.

The look of shock on Millie’s face shouldn’t be funny, it was sad. That no one had ever given her a taste of her own medicine. You didn’t hold anything against her, it wasn’t in your nature. But you wouldn’t say you liked her, that part of you had died along with Aiden. You had tried to continue to be her friend after everything, that fateful patrol. But she had pushed you away, had been quiet and reserved in her grief.

Until she hadn’t. She had shifted to harsh glares and sharp words. Basically heading the town to lay the blame on you. Her mother dutifully at her side. But you didn’t fault them. You knew loss was hard long before they had. You knew that it twisted people up inside and made it hard to feel okay. But you had never taken it out on anyone, instead closing in on yourself. But that had backfired, turned into a spectacle at the bar amid most of the town’s older occupants. Entertainment for them. More ammo for gossip and hurtful words.

In trying to ignore them, you had made it worse. Of course you had.

You lay slumped against the headstone, consciousness wavering as the wind pressed you into it. The snow began to settle over your legs and in your loose hair. Hat and scarf left behind in your rush to get out of that damn bar. You don’t know how long you laid there, pressing your face into the headstone, tears falling from your eyes and stinging as they froze on your cheeks, on your lashes, around your puffy eyes. Coughing, you felt the warmth of a thick liquid and taste of metal as blood splattered over the name etched into the stone.

You were tired, exhausted. Your body no longer hurt and it was a relief to be without the low thrum of anxiety, the smoldering heartbreak in the shape of broad man weighing down your chest, the ache in your hands from hours of chopping and stirring and mixing, the swelling in your legs from standing for hours everyday to prepare meals for people who couldn’t care less about you. It was all gone and it was a relief.

You tried to peel your eyes open, but they were so heavy. Unseeing when you managed to, it was so dark around you. There was no way it should be that dark in the late hour with the snow blanketing the town and the sky swathed in snow clouds. But it was and it didn’t bother you. You didn’t want to see anything anyway. Not when you closed your eyes against the darkness, you saw a soft smile tugging at plush lips that had felt good against your own below a pair of sparkling brown eyes. You saw Joel Miller and that was good enough.

You weren’t aware of the darkness being a shadow falling over you, a body dropping to its knees as it spotted you on the ground. You weren’t aware of the shout of your name, your actual name, nothing breaking the unconsciousness you had succumbed to. Joel was frantic, his hands hovering over you as he worried touching you would cause more damage. The blood shining on dark on your lips, the sallow complexion of your skin, the hand that had been pressing to your stained and wet middle limp in your lap. All of it was too much and his heart felt like it was humming in his chest as it beat in time with memories of loss and pain flashing before his eyes.

He couldn’t, he couldn’t lose you too. Not now, not like this.

Ignoring his worry, pushing it down, he scooped you up into his arms. The fact that you didn’t startle awake or shout out in pain at the movement didn’t sit well with him, his stomach dropped and his head pounded as he realized how cold you were to the touch, how limp you were. He gritted his teeth against the biting wind, the snow flying all around and began to move through the headstones.

“I made you one.” He croaked. “I made them all for you. All of them, every single one” His hands were warm, cradling you close, trying to tamp down the bleeding from your middle as he walked. “C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta let me save you so you’ll have one. I’ll give you anything, I’ll give you everything. Olive, please.”

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[lillsisamarshmallow]

Moving day! (17)

Summary: Y/n spends the next week searching for a new house, and when she thinks luck has run out, something odd happens. Driving hybrids, polite agents, giant IKEA, being crushed by a falling mattress covered in plastic�� who knew moving houses was so difficult.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: None! Let me know if I missed any!

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I sighed as I slowed the car down before the red light, taking a moment to rest my head in my hands, hoping to ease the stress that had been bubbling up inside me. It had been almost 2 weeks since we temporarily moved into Jisoo’s house, and we still weren't having any luck finding a new place. I was on my way back to the cafe from a viewing that I went to alone. That house definitely wouldn't work. I thought to myself, the photos were deceiving to what it actually was like, and the agent was really rude the whole time, rather than showing me around the house she kept taking photos in front of it, posing.

Rolling my eyes at how annoying the agent was, I grunted at the idea of another house being crossed out from the list. Let's just hope the next one is better. I tried to think positively about the next house as I started driving again. I was heading to the cafe to pick up Namjoon and Yoongi since it was their turn to come to one of the viewings and honestly this next house looked perfect, but I couldn't help the small voice in the back of my head that was whispering negative thoughts and making me doubt our chances with this house.

I pulled up in front of the cafe and made my way inside, I saw a few of our regulars and I gave them a welcoming smile as I made my way into the kitchen walking past Hobi and Jimin who were manning the register. I opened the door to see Jin and Yoongi cooking whilst Namjoon was taking drinks out from the cooler. I giggled as the sight of bright green caught my eye from the tape of the floor, the lines Namjoon and Taehyung weren't allowed to cross.

“Is it time?” Yoongi asked as he was the first to notice me. I nodded my head as I walked over and sat down on a stool while I waited for them to get ready to go. I watched as Yoongi untied his apron and lifted it over his head, making sure not to get it caught on his ears. He folded the apron neatly before telling Jin when to take the food out of the oven, to which the older man nodded. “How was the house you just saw?”

“Not great if I'm being honest.” I sighed before jumping off the small stool, I walked over to the plate of freshly baked almond croissants, I haven't eaten yet today, and I was starving. “It would have never worked, and I didn't like the agent lady.”

I heard Yoongi hum at my response from behind me. I quickly reached out and grabbed one of the delicious-looking croissants and stuffed one end into my mouth. I turned around and asked them if they were ready to go, but what was supposed to be a question came out as an incomprehensible mumble due to the pastry that was blocking my words. I watched as Yoongi gave me a gummy smile as he laughed and nodded his head, Namjoon walked over to us too with a smile on his face.

We walked through the cafe and out the front, saying goodbye to the others on our way past them. As we made our way outside Yoongi gestured for me to throw him the keys, which I gladly did. I was happy to take a break from driving. We all got strapped in the car and I gave Yoongi the directions and we set off to the next viewing.

I happily munched on my late lunch as I watched yoongi drive. I liked watching him drive, I couldn't explain why, but I couldn't drag my eyes away. I noticed that I had been caught by how he started smiling and glanced away from me and out his window. I blushed as I readjusted myself to sit up straight and look out my window. Large trees lined the road, the canopy almost fully covering over us, just allowing small patches of light to seep through the branches and their leaves.

The area looked serene and quiet, occasionally we’d pass a small turn, but our map said to keep going.

“The next left.” I said to yoongi as I looked at the GPS map on my phone that I had punched the address of the house into. Reaching the right turn we made our way down the very long, skinny driveway until the trees pulled back and opened into a field, and in the centre was a rather large wooden house, it had small garden beds in the front of the porch, but they had no plants in them, indicating that the place had been vacant for a while.

“Woah.” I whispered as the full house came into view, my mouth opened in shock, it looked amazing, better than the photos, it had 3 levels, the top being more of a covered seating area, it had a full wrap around porch outside and multiple stairs to get up to it.

The gravel crushed under the car wheels as Yoongi pulled off to the side to park the car. The 3 of us made our way over to the front of the house where there was an agent waiting with the keys and another handful of people who were also interested in the house.

The lady welcomed us all before unlocking the doors, allowing us to roam around on our own. The bottom level had the living room, laundry, kitchen, all the basic things and the second level had all the bedrooms. The kitchen was gorgeous, and I couldn't help but think of how much Jin would love it. There were two large common areas downstairs too.

My mouth was open for most of our self-guided tour, everything was so amazing and checked all of our boxes. I bounced around on the balls of my feet as I couldn't contain my excitement, Namjoon and Yoongi followed behind me. I could hear them chuckling at me and mumbling to each other, trying to remember everything so they could tell the others when we got back.

Making our way upstairs to the bedrooms the first one we walked into was the largest according to the map on the website.

“This would be your room.” I said to both of them we had a quick look around, it could definitely fit a large enough bed for them all. The next 3 rooms were all the same size, the ones that I had suggested would be used so the boys could have their own areas for hobbies and such. The last room was at the end of the hallway, and it was away from the others for a bit. We walked in and had a look around, it was the only room with its own bathroom. It wasn't as big as the first room, but it was bigger than the other 3. “And this would be my room.”

We kept looking around and everything seemed perfect. The backyard was large and even included a section of the woods surrounding the house. It had more garden beds on the side, presumably for veggies and similar things. I let the boys go and have their own look around while I leaned on the railing of the porch.

“This house is beautiful, right?” I looked to my side to see the agent lady lean down beside me, I smiled at her and relaxed in the informal atmosphere that she brought with her. She had long brown hair that was tied in a loose but professional bun at the back of her head, she looked over to me, her eyes were brown, and she wore pink lipstick. She was really pretty and oddly familiar. “My name’s Irene by the way.”

I stuck my hand out to shake hers as she introduced herself to me. “Hi, I’m Y/n.” I saw her eyes widen slightly at my introduction.

“Y/n?”

I nodded, I smiled as I looked back out into the yard. “It’s a very beautiful house, everything we were looking for actually.”

“Oh? Have you been looking for long?” She asked curiously.

“Just over a week, but we haven't had any luck yet.” I explained to her as I sat up to face her politely. “We’re staying with a friend for now, but we really need to find somewhere.”

She hummed at what I said before speaking. “Is it just the 3 of you?”

“Uhh- no. There’s 5 more of us. Hence why we need a big house.” I chuckled. We kept talking for a bit as we sat down on one of the seats, a few other people came up to her to ask some questions and a few people let her know that they weren't interested and headed out, but she didn't seem to mind.

Eventually the boys came back to me, and we were the last group to leave the house. I watched as Irene locked up and made her way down the stairs to stand near us. “Did you like the house?” She asked politely.

“Yep, it checked all of our boxes, I can't wait to tell the others about it.” I exclaimed as we began walking back to the cars.

“That's great! Well, I'll be sure to keep a look out for your application.” She grinned before winking my way, I still couldn't shake why she looked so familiar, she's probably just in a lot of ads or something.  I nodded my head and laughed as we went our separate ways. The whole ride back to the cafe was just us discussing the house, what we liked, what we didn’t, whether or not the others would've liked it and if I should make an offer for it. 

I was laying on the couch, my head propped up on Hoseok’s lap as Taehyung laid on my stomach with his body between my legs. We were all watching a movie in the living room. I don't remember what it was called, but I was constantly confused by how many things went unexplained. I moved my hands up to rest over my chest, the fabric being loose meant that I didn't have to worry about being tangled up in it. It was Seokjin’s jumper, or at least I think it was, I don't remember. The boys kept giving me their jumpers and jackets. I wasn't sure why, but I wasn't going to complain since they kept me warmer than my own jumpers and it reminded me of them.

The jumper was big on me which meant that I could snuggle my face into it, the scent of vanilla and cherry had ingrained itself into my nose as I breathed around the oversized jumper. I could barely keep my eyes open as I kept skipping bits of the movie accidentally. The main character was annoying and so was his love interest, but the others seemed to enjoy it. 

I felt my phone vibrate in the pocket on the jumper under Taehyung's head. He lifted his head up slightly so I could reach into my pocket and grab the device. I mumbled a quiet ‘thanks’ before raising the phone up to my face. The light shone into my eyes making me squint, but after a few seconds they adjusted and I was able to see, as I read my top notification my eyes widened at what it was.

I gasped loudly as I sat up straight, I stared down at my phone rereading the notification, I heard a grunt as I realised that I had disturbed the big cat hybrid, he shuffled down more, his feet kicking into Yoongi as he moved his head to rest on my thigh instead. “Sorry.” I mumbled quietly as I reached one hand to pet his ears and play with his hair. I smiled at him before moving my gaze back to my phone.

I opened up my email app so I could properly read the whole thing, my face lit up as I kept reading until the end. “Guys, I got the house.” I exclaimed as I quickly reread the email from the company again making sure I hadn't misread it.

“What? No way. It's only been a day.” Hobi said from behind me, to which I passed him the phone so he could also read the email. “You got the house?”

“We got the house!” I cheered as everyone joined in excitedly. “Irene must have said something.”

“Wouldn't that be weird, you only met her that day, right?” Namjoon asked from across the room. I thought about what he said. He was right, I had only met Irene that day and we didn't know each other that well, why would she do this? I wondered in my head, it wasn't like we knew each other or anything, just our conversation while we were at that house.

“Maybe she thought I was pretty?” I half joked with the boys, I was genuinely clueless as to why she might have put in a good word, maybe she didn't, maybe we were just lucky. The boys laughed at my statement as we all sat in the living room practically bouncing with excitement. Everyone was so happy that we were able to find a place and it made my heart swell as I watched them all talk about it, knowing that I had done well. 

We discussed when to start packing up and when we would get everything moved in, we drew up another small basic map of the house and the boys started deciding who would share which rooms, some decisions were left up to a game of scissors, paper, rock, there was a lot of yelling.

Eventually, after deciding who was sharing which room, we all decided to think of a collective theme for the main area of the house and what types of furniture we would need. The house came with a few pieces of furniture, but we would have to buy a lot of our own and since Jisoo didn't have any room, I had to get rid of my old furniture. Which meant a trip to a furniture store to get everything.

I looked up at the big neon sign that was now slightly distorted from how close I was underneath it. The small trees and bushes outside were a vibrant shade of yellow and orange, which unfortunately did not match the building too well, but that didn't matter. The cold wind was strong today, and I tried to dig my hands further into my pockets to stop the cold from freezing them solid.

We all quickly made our way inside the giant store to get out of the cold weather, it wasn't even winter yet. I grumbled at how much I hated the cold weather, before remembering how beautiful it can be at the same time. The ground is covered in a white layer of soft snow, icicles hanging from trees, and intricate little snowflakes landing on your nose. I loved winter.

I was grateful when we got inside to realise that the store did crank their air conditioning all the way up like some places did. I sighed and took my hand out of the pocket of my puffy jacket that was laid on top of a jumper that was not mine, I rubbed my hands together quickly before taking a few steps further into the store. It was quiet and empty, not a lot of customers, not a lot of employees, the background music was low, and I could hear the rustle of leaves against some of the windows.

I saw an employee make his way over to us and ask his typical questions, but I let him know that I had it covered and then he went back to his seat behind the weirdly tall counter.

“Okay, game plan.” I said, turning around to face the troops and clapping my hands together. “What’s the game plan?”

“We should split up.”

“But what if we all choose different things? I’ve got the list.”

“Well, how about we stick together until we get most of the stuff, then we can split up and get the rest of it?” Jimin suggested. It was a reasonable idea, and for that reason, we chose to ignore it.

Everyone had ended up splitting and spreading out around the store, Namjoon had the list, and both me and Yoongi knew most of it off the top of our heads since we were the ones who made said list. I had gravitated over towards the bedroom section where I began to choose a bed from myself before someone walked around the corner.

“Oh? Hey, Y/n.” Taehyung said nonchalantly as he walked around the corner with Jungkook hot on his tail, I smiled at the 2 as I walked a few feet over to them. “Are you looking for a bed too?”

I nodded back at him as I spoke about one that had caught my eye earlier, but I wasn't dead set on anything. We continued to wander around for a bit, they both seemed to know what they were looking for, so I just tagged along behind them. Eventually we came to a wall and sat down in the corner of the room. It was the largest bed I'd ever seen, it would've fit at least 7 people, maybe even 9.

I watched as Taehyung and Jungkook raced for the bed before jumping onto it and laying down. I laughed at them as I ran to join them, the bed was soft and plush, and I basically sunk into it. I gasped at how great of a bed it was before I sat up onto my knees, making sure not to put my shoes on the display bed. 

“This bed is humongous!” And it’s so soft too.” I exclaimed before flopping to the centre on my stomach, I could have fallen asleep right then and there. “I didn't even know they made beds this big.”

“They used to have a few of these back at the shelter.” Taehyung just so casually said before he rolled off the bed. Shelter? I thought to myself.

“The shelter?” I asked whilst trying to haul myself up off the almost too soft bed.

“Uhh-yeah. The one that me and Jungkook were at.” Taehyung spoke, almost like he was trying to correct a mistake. I didn't want to push as I noticed the 2 men become quieter, so I put the thought and my questions aside and walked over to the sign with the information for the bed. I scribbled the exact name down before leading the boys back to the normal beds so I could choose one.

“It’s perfect!” I exclaimed as I got off the 27th bed I'd tried. It had a white bed head that had small shelves in it, and intricate designs, the base had underneath storage and the mattress was amazing. “Welp, that’s the beds checked off the list, where to next?”

Eventually we found ourselves in the living room area of the shop, where we quickly ran into Yoongi, Jimin, and Hoseok, eliminating the couches they had already looked at, and we started walking down the isles searching. The boys made a point to try every single couch we passed and put on posh accents whilst they spoke about each couch. Yoongi and I stood to the side as we watched them play, discussing the different couches we saw and laughing at the others.

Soon enough we found the perfect couch, there were enough seats for everyone plus some, it was crazy comfortable and was a dark grey in colour. After adding it on to the list we figured, no, we hoped that Namjoon and Jin would have the other major items covered.

Safe to say that our shopping trip went smoothly, for the most part. Hobi got lost in the bookshelves, Namjoon broke a display lamp, Taehyung and Jungkook almost got us kicked out, and when we left, we accidentally picked up a random stranger thinking it was Yoongi, who was sleeping in the beds. We didn't realise until we were leaving the parking lot.

Today was going to be long… and stressful. I thought to myself as I looked back at the full car from the rearview mirror, but I couldn't help the smile on my face. The keys jingled in my hand as I looked down at them, a few plain silver keys. I made a mental note to get a few more sets cut for the boys and to buy us all different keychains, I grinned as I thought of some ideas.

I hesitated before twisting the key in the door, but finally it was unlocked, and I pushed the door open and walked into our new home. It had an old wood smell to it, it was comforting, but I couldn't wait until it smelled like home. We didn't have much time to gawk at the house as pretty soon the furniture trucks showed up and the workers started unloading things and we all had to move them to the right areas.

“Oh! That one goes over there!” I yelled out whilst pointing over to the kitchen, the worker nodded and started moving the box that way whilst I held back onto the large mattress in front of me and began pushing it again. The mattress was heavy, but I was able to make it to the foot of the stairs. I sighed out annoyed before a light shone down for the heavens, my saviour.

“Here Y/n.” Hobi said as he reached for the other end of the rectangle, I thanked him and smiled up the stairs towards him. With our teamwork we were able to get the mattress onto the stairs, he pulled, and I pushed as we worked our way up. We were about halfway up before disaster struck.

“Y/n?” I heard Namjoon call out from somewhere below me. I turned towards him and hummed out, hoping he would find me from my sound. “Oh, there you are.”

Namjoon smiled at me, his dimples showing which completely pulled my guard down. He gestured towards something that he was holding, like he wanted me to take a look. I walked down the stairs, completely forgetting about Hobi and the big mattress that was still halfway up the stairs. 

I looked down at what he was holding as we both questioned the weird item that he had found, it was some statue. A chicken statue. The chicken looked like it was originally white, but it had years of dirt caked onto it, it had a brown, copper base with different carvings on it. It was a weird little thing, but it was also kind of cute. Absorbed by the small statue, I didn't hear Hoseok’s cries for help.

“Y/n? Y/n? Hello?”

“Y/n!”

“Y/N!”

I heard the banging as I turned back towards the stairs. I didn't have time to react as the mattress came tumbling down the stairs and towards me. It knocked me out, taking me down with it, just barely missing Namjoon who had stood next to me. Now he stood, confused, as he looked down at the mattress that laid flat on the floor, with me underneath it.

“Y/n!”

I grunted out as the light came back into my vision and I could breathe without inhaling the weird smell of plastic. I let my lungs fill with the fresh cool air as I tried to sit up, feeling two hands pushing my back and helping me. I could see the panic on their faces as they both looked down at me from their crouched positions next to me.

I laughed out as I shuffled slightly so I could sit more comfortably, I crossed my legs and held a hand to my chest as I caught my breath. I assured them both that I was okay, but when I went to pick the bed up again, they beat me to it. They both moved the bed upstairs and into my new room with me guiding them.

“We can just put it here for now.” I pointed over at the wall adjacent to my bathroom. “I haven't exactly decided how I’m going to set it up yet.”

I spent a few more seconds glazing around the room as I thought of different ways to decorate and move my furniture to fit the space, but I quickly dismissed the thoughts as we all headed back downstairs to help the others with the last of our boxes.

I flopped back onto our new couch, which was slightly harder than I'd like, but it was brand new. I sighed out loud as I lifted an arm over my head, resting my forearm across my forehead as I looked up. I felt the couch shift and dip slightly several more times, accompanied by several signs that fell in time.

“Who knew we'd need so many chairs.” I heard Taehyung whining from somewhere on the couch. I sat up and laughed slightly as I shook my head. I had a bit of a headache from all the pushing and pulling, my arms and legs felt like jelly, and my stomach felt as though it had been carved out with a spoon, but it was worth it.

I looked around me, the living room and kitchen were the only places that had been completely unpacked and decorated, most of the other rooms were still a bit bare and had brown cardboard boxes littered in them. The coffee table that sat in the middle had a small vase on it with some fresh flowers I made sure to pick up this morning, and it had a stack of coasters next to it and a small trinket dish.

This was the larger of the two open areas and so we decided to buy a tv for this room, I looked over to my left. The large black screen stood out against the wood texture of the walls. There were 2 large plants positioned either side of it, another trinket dish sat in front of it, underneath it was filled with a few movies and games along with organised cables and docks.

I smiled as I looked at the room that we had come together to create, I looked at the boys as they all took up different places on the couch, I couldn't help the smiling that spread of my face, or the burning that started as a spark in my heart before spreading to the rest of my chest. It hurt, but I could tell it was a good thing and so I embraced it as I sat and watched the boys. My boys

“Do you think we could plant flowers out the back?” Namjoon asked while looking over to me, I nodded my head before responding.

“Yeah! Flowers and maybe some vegetables too. We could set up an outside area too, with tables and chairs.” I exclaimed excitedly. We all continued to discuss random things about the house and what we could do with it, the boys even played a game of scissors, paper, rock to see who would share rooms.

The doorbell ringing was a pleasant distraction from our conversation, we all knew exactly what it was. We all got up and while me and Jimin headed to the door the others headed into the kitchen. I opened the door and smiled kindly at the delivery boy. I thanked him as I took the bags of food from him and handed a few over to Jimin to carry.

When we both got back to the lounge room the others had already bought us our own cutlery and bowls to eat from. The bags seemed to instantly get torn apart as I put them on the table. Within seconds I could hear the sounds of plastic lids being popped off containers and chattering as I took my seat between Jimin and Jin. The surface of the coffee table was now full of different takeaway containers that had various foods in them, my mouth watered at how good some of it looked.

“Let's dig in.”

I picked up some japchae and moved it over to my bowl, but before it fell down another pair of chopsticks stole it from me. I looked up to spot Jungkook grinning cheekily at me as he plopped my japchae into his bowl, I pouted at him and turned the other way, pulling the takeaway container closer to me to hopefully stop any future attacks on my food.

Finally, I was safely able to transport the food into my own bowl, I put the container back down before shuffling back into the couch and crossing my legs as I dug into the food. It was great, not too strong, a perfect balance of vegetables and noodles, I hummed out in joy, and I kept enjoying my food.

My attention was drawn away and a pair of chopsticks floated in front of me, dark, sticky noodles wrapped around them. I followed them over to Jin who looked at me kindly. He gestured for me to open my mouth, so I quickly swallowed the food in my mouth before opening it. Jin pushed the noodles into my mouth and I closed it so he could take the chopsticks out, I chewed for a bit before my face lit up as I faced him and nodded my head fastly, not being able to speak, I gave him a thumbs up and watched as he giggled lightly while looking at my full cheeks.

I finished my noodles and hesitantly looked over to Jin's bowl, I looked back up at him and he gave me an approving smile and I quickly dug my utensils into his bowl and took out some more of the noodles with the dark sauce on them. I chewed on them happily and I sat up straight and looked around. I was swaying side to side lightly in my position, a side affected by good food.

Jimin leaned over to me and pinched some of the food from my bowl, I looked over to him and he chewed on it, his cheeks puffed out full of the food and his lips pursed tightly as he chewed. He seemed to be thinking about the food before he swallowed and gave me a bright smile, his eyes creasing until I could no longer see them.

I took that as him enjoying the food and I smiled back at him before I looked in his bowl, he had some kimchi in his. I looked across from us on the other couch, Hobi and Yoongi sat close to each other, Hobi had his legs on the couch, perched up near his chest. They seemed deep in conversation and passed the food between each other, sharing. I smiled at the both of them as I looked over to the two youngest pack members and Namjoon, who were all watching the tv intensely, completely focused on what every movie they had out of.

Jungkook sat in the middle, him and Namjoon eating from the same bowl that seemed to have more noodles in it, Taehyung had his own bowl with various foods in it, but no kimchi. I unfortunately wasn't able to order a less spicy one for him and myself, but that was fine because we had a lot of other options.

Jin put another mouthful of noodles in front of me which I gladly accepted as I smiled happily, still slightly swaying side to side, but the boys didn't seem to mind it. The night continued on as we all sat together in the lounge while we ate our first dinner in our new house. At some point I had given up on getting my own food as Jin seemed pretty content with giving me food from his bowl, and honestly, I didn't mind.

The sky became deep dark with small specks of sparkling stars, silent except for the rustle of leaves and the happy chirping of the crickets, the sky was clear, and the air felt fresh. I said goodnight to the boys as I retired into my own room, I looked around the empty box. I hadn't finished unpacking, my mattress was laid on the floor with a few blankets and pillows and a small lamp beside it.

The covers felt foreign to my skin as I pushed my bare legs under them, the bottom of my shorts riding up ever so slightly. I punched the pillows until it was soft enough and I laid my head to rest on top of it. I nuzzled further into it and wriggled my body trying to get used to it. I reached out and shut off the small lamp, enclosing the room in a blanket of darkness with only the low glow of the moonshine peering through the curtainless windows.

I sighed out as I tried to put my mind to rest, I tried counting sheep, mathematical equations, making up silly stories, but I couldn't bring myself to sleep despite the tiredness that embedded itself into my bones. I opened my eyes again and grounded as I turned the small lamp on again, a warm glow now accompanying the moonlight. I sat up before flopping back down again, moving my position slightly so I was now laying on my back. I started up at the empty ceiling.

I looked side to side as I wondered why I couldn't sleep. A weird feeling had entered my chest since I came in here and it felt heavy. Emptiness. The room felt empty, a large room with nothing to fill it, loneliness. It wasn't a feeling that I was fond of, it was the type of feeling that would haunt me at night and allow my greatest fears to invade my mind and destroy me.

And for that reason, I had to get up.

I sat up abruptly and with a bounce in my step I hopped over to my door and switched the light switch before turning around to face my room. I had all my boxes labelled and separated into different groups in different areas of my room. I thought this feeling was coming from my unusually empty room, so I started to unpack my things. I popped in my earphones before I got started, pressing play on my playlist.

First, I put together my bed frame. I must have moved it 13 times before deciding on a location. I covered it in my sheets and blankets and topped it off with my pillows in a fancy way. I unboxed all of my clothes and started organising them into my closet. Next was the bathroom, shampoo, conditioner, towels, soap, everything I needed. Then came my desk, my drawers, a few posters, a carpet, I hung up some cute fairy lights too, accompanied by some fake vines and flowers, and a few real plants around the room too. Until eventually I had spent the early morning unpacking. The sun shining into my room made it look beautiful, but I was too tired to realise.

A/n: New chapter! A little late (I’m posting this as I eat my sushi 🍣) but I hope it’s worth it. The furniture store is suppposed to be an IKEA, but like, I’ve never been to one so idk what they are like. Anyways, I hope everyone is doing well, thank you all so much for 800 followers! (Wtaf??? 😭 ilysm !! 🫶💜). It’s kinda weird how quickly Y/n and the boys got their house, right?

Wonder why that is… 🤔

Oh well! 🤭 Hope everyone has a great day or night, and a lovely weekend! Thank you all so much for reading! 💜💜💜

[themorningsunshine]

Muffins

Pie - eyed over you - Chapter 3 

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist                        Series Masterlist

Previous Part 

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Mentions of murder, lots of fluff (gotta give the fluff before the angst for it to hurt more, yup I am evil), Steve and Sam being a menace 

Word count - around 6k 

a/n - So, after two delays, hell a lot of editing, and straight up changing the whole structure of this chapter and then combining it with another (hence the length), it’s finally here. Thank you so much to all of you for putting up with me. Please let me know what you guys think about this. Your kind words keep me going. 

You placed the muffins in a tray for display before making a note in your diary to buy more chocolate chips when you go to the market on the weekend. 

Running a bakery all on your own is a difficult job but you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. Even though you were not a morning person, the prospect of coming here and baking made it getting up from the bed every morning a tad bit easier. 

As you heard knocks on the door, you frowned before looking up, there was still some time left before it was time to open up the bakery. 

But when your eyes landed on the figure standing outside the door, looking like a complete misfit in his dark clothes and sunglasses and surprisingly, a baseball cap covering his forehead, a pathetic attempt at being discreet, you can't help the way your lips turn upward and your heart flutters. 

He was here just yesterday and yet it felt like you were seeing him after too long. 

Get yourself together. 

It's just a crush, it'll go away. 

You wiped your palms on your apron before walking towards the door to open it. 

You gave him a teasing smile before saying, "You're at the wrong place. Baseball convention is another mile from here." 

He rolled his eyes before stepping inside the bakery, bending a little, the door a little too short for him. "Hello to you too, sweets." 

You chuckled before walking towards the counter as he took his usual seat. Everything felt like a routine. Engraved in your soul as if it had always been there. 

"Gracing this bakery with your presence two days in a row. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Maybe I just missed my sweets." He shrugged as if it was obvious. 

"Continue this and you are going to get diabetic." You remarked with a smirk. 

"Not the sweets I was talking about, but okay." 

The smirk immediately left your lips as you could practically feel your heart beat out of your chest. He didn't mean it. He's just teasing. 

But no matter what you think, you can't help the way the red color crept up to your neck at his words. 

Okay, this crush is getting out of hand. 

"So, how's work?" You say in an attempt to change the topic. 

He tenses at your words. You had asked him what he did, and he had replied that he was a mechanic. It was becoming more difficult for him to lie to you. 

But maybe, he won't have to much longer. 

He was pretty sure Walker was on his way to screw things up. 

That son of a - 

"Earth to James!!" Your voice moving and your palm waving in front of his face brought him out of his thoughts. 

"I asked how was work." You said with a frown. James always got weirdly uncomfortable when you asked about work. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it, but you were no one to ask. 

"Oh, it's been fine. You know, the usual." 

"Yeah, yeah. Steve is a dorky idiot and Sam is an annoying prick. I know." You said imitating the words he had said to you not a long time ago. 

Bucky chuckles. Telling you about Steve and Sam was easier. Maybe sharing something about him which wasn't a lie, made him feel less guilty. 

He knew this was wrong. 

He was creating a web of lies that you will find out one day.

But Bucky Barnes wasn't a good man and he would take whatever time he has got before the inevitable happened. 

Which wasn't going to be today. 

He wasn't going to let Walker ruin this.

He will just sit there, hiding half of his face with the baseball cap. It would be easy. It wasn't like Walker would expect to see him here anyways. 

He was just here to make sure that he didn't hurt you. 

The both of you striked a conversation just like usual and you immediately felt better. You knew it was going to be a great day. Had started off on the best possible note, atleast.

The clock striked eight before you knew it and you got up from your chair to flip the sign at the bakery. 

"Why don't you hire someone to help you?" James asks, sipping his coffee. 

"Why, you're looking for a job?" You teased him with raised eyebrows. "Job at the garage doesn't pay enough for your baseball conventions?" 

He rolled his eyes. "When are you gonna let this one go?" 

"I think… never." 

He chuckled before asking again, "But, seriously, sweets, why not get a helping hand?" 

" 'Cause I am selfish." When he narrowed his eyes, you continued. "I know this sounds weird, but I don't like it when anybody else cooks the food. It's just never good enough." 

"So, why not hire someone to deal with the customers?" 

"That's literally the best part of the job." You half exclaimed. "People telling you whether they liked the sweets or not is the best part, James. Almost as good as getting to eat all the leftovers." 

James chuckled before setting his coffee mug down. "There is no pleasing you." 

You shrugged before walking behind the counter to get everything ready for the morning rush you were sure was about to walk through the door any moment now. 

When a few people came in, some regular customers and some students hoping to get in some caffeine to start the day, you saw as James involuntarily tensed. 

Bucky watched the front door with focused eyes as minutes ticked by. He knew Walker will be here any minute now. 

And he was proven right as he saw John Walker opening the door of the bakery and walking in with a smug look on his face, shoving away whoever came in his path. 

Bucky wanted nothing more than to pull him out of here, away from you and this warm place but he couldn't do that. There would be consequences, which he normally wouldn't give a second thought to, but the real nuisance would bring questions. 

He watched as you greet him with the same grin on your face that you used for all your customers, saying in a soft voice, "Hey, what can I get you?" And Bucky can swear Walker doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you.

"Why not start by paying off?" Walker said with a tone harsh and loud enough that a few customers turned to see what was happening. 

You frowned your eyes in confusion, "I am sorry." You were still speaking in a calm, soft voice, trying your best to get whoever this man was to calm down. You didn't want a commotion so early in the day. 

"Walker." He said as if it was enough of an introduction before continuing, "And I think you have an idea of where I am coming from. You owe us." 

James watched as realization dawned on your face and you stood straighter, your smile turning into a forwn. "I don't owe anyone anything."

He leaned towards you, keeping his arms crossed on the counter, speaking with a smirk, "Don't try to act smart, baby doll. Pay up and no one gets hurt." 

He watches as you cringe at the nickname  and almost take a small step back, discomfort clear on your face. 

Bucky almost gets up from his chair, his first instinct to slit off Walker's throat with the knife he had tucked in his jacket. He would make it less messy too, but painful. 

Control, he isn't going to hurt her. 

"I am not going to pay you a single cent, Walker. So, why don't you take your ass out of my bakery and leave me alone?" As you speak, your hand inches towards the knife that you keep below the counter for situations like these. Even though you hoped you'd never have to use it, it was better to be prepared than sorry. 

John clenches his fist as his eyes bore into your skull, "Don't make this difficult. You don't know who you are trying to mess up with. The people I work with wouldn't blink an eye before dumping your body in a dumpster. Just pay every month and we leave you alone." 

"I have said it before and I'll say it again, I am not going to pay you to let me live." It's as if something switches inside you. The slight fear or discomfort that could be seen in your features is completely gone now. 

Bucky watches as Walker growls in impatience before reaching for his jacket pocket. 

Nope, not happening

"Listen to me, you little bitch - " 

Walker is cut off immediately when a larger figure stands between him and the counter. 

James shields you from him, obstructing his view. 

"Leave her alone." The sound is almost a growl. And if Walker hadn't been too preoccupied he would have noticed how familiar that sounded. 

"And who the hell are you?" He spat. 

Bucky looks down at him and watches as all the color is drained out of his face when he recognises him. 

"S - si "

"Leave her alone and if you show up around here ever again, it will be you in the dumpster, cut into more pieces than you can count." 

Fear is obvious on Walker's face, as he completely forgets the weapon he was reaching for, trying to get his senses to work, confusion evident on his face.

Before he can ask any questions, Bucky takes a step towards him, with sheer coldness in his eyes as if he could slit Walker's throat right now and wouldn't blink. 

You watch as the man - who had introduced himself as Walker- saunters out of the bakery with quick steps. 

You frowned your eyes at whatever had happened here. 

You weren't going to pay the mob any money, you knew that. But you also knew that you couldn't have overpowered that man, especially if he had a weapon hidden under there somewhere. 

"You didn't have to do that, James." You said softly, in an attempt to get his attention away from the door he was boring holes in. 

He turned back and you watched as his expression turned into the soft one you were so familiar with. 

You walked from behind the counter towards where he was standing before explaining, "He works for the mob. Trust me, you don't want to get involved with them." 

Bucky's breath hitches at that. How could he explain to you that he wasn't just involved with the mob?

"It's okay, sweets. They won't hurt me." That was some truth. They were never going to hurt him, and before Walker could utter a single word to anyone about the events of the day, he would be fired. Bucky would make sure of that. 

"I know." You sighed, looking down at the floor as if contemplating something. It was silent for a moment before you looked up, "Thank you, James. It does mean a lot to me." You said with a soft, grateful smile on your face and your hand reached out to his. 

"Anytime, sweets." 

A moment passed before anyone of you dared to move. Your hand was now brushing his arm in slight touches. 

You broke the silence, "Come on, have some muffins. They are on me." You said before turning back and walking towards the counter. 

Bucky had to stand there for a moment because his skin had suddenly started to feel cold and empty. Like it wasn't enough without your touch, before walking back towards the counter and standing right in front of where you were taking out some muffins on a plate. 

"So, Ms Feisty, something against the mob?" He said, trying desperately for his voice to sound joking. 

You shrugged while passing the muffins to him and turning to pour some coffee for yourself. "I am not going to pay them money just because everybody else does. Why the hell do I pay taxes?" 

"But the way you were standing, you don't just want to rebel, sweets. You hate them." He said, an emotion in his voice you couldn't really place. He prayed that that wasn't the case, that he had read the situation wrong and maybe you didn't really hate the mob. 

"Hate is a strong word, James. I - despise them." You reply before looking up at him to meet his eyes, but he looks away, almost as if looking at you right now would physically hurt him. 

"I mean, they aren't really that bad, right? It's not like I know a lot about them but I have heard they protect the city." He tries.

"Uh-huh. They are not good people. You remember that day when we met? When it was raining and I had lost my way, and you were there - "

"I remember the day we met, sweets." He interrupts. Every part of that day was engraved in his mind.

"Yeah, yeah right. So, that day I was coming back from a friend's house. She has a daughter, Ellie, about 5 years old." 

He hums, nodding his head, not sure where you were going with this. 

"Both of them were switching houses. Leaving their home, that they had built, to live in a one bedroom apartment in the not so respected area of the town. You know why?" 

He narrowed his eyes. 

"Because her dad was killed." You took a deep breath, trying to keep the rage from bubbling up to the surface. "A 5 year old lost her father, James. And why? Because of some stupid mob feud." 

"What was her dad's name?" He asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

"Jake" 

Bucky's moments halted as images came back to his mind's forefront. He had killed that man himself. Shot three bullets straight into his chest. He had felt no remorse then. That man was a traitor. Had joined hands  with the enemy, knowing very well what the consequences could be. 

He had felt no remorse then because he hadn't given a moment of thought to the people he might be leaving behind. It made his work easier. Pretending that there were no consequences to whatever they did. 

But now he could see the consequences. In the form of rage in your eyes at the tale and the hurt he felt in his chest, thinking about the girl. He knew how that felt. Being alone, and helpless. 

"She didn't deserve that. None of them did. Nobody deserves to lose somebody they love, James. But it hits the worst when it's unforeseeable. When the people who did it are out there in the world, as if their hands aren't tainted with blood, living their life and you can do nothing about it."  You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. Thinking about your friend and Elliot always brought you to tears. You tried to help them as much as you could, but there was only so much you could do. 

Bucky looks into your eyes and sees tears in the corner of your eyes. He wants to hold your hand, to comfort you, to tell you that they are going to be fine. But how could he, when his were the hands that were tainted with blood, that had taken the life of that man without a second thought. 

So, he just sits there, listening to you talk about the lady and her kid, even though each of your words is like a sword stabbed through his chest. 

When he knows you are fine, he takes his leave, bidding you goodbye before walking out and calling Steve. 

"Steve, I need you to do something." 

"What's up, Buck? Everything okay?" Steve replied in a concerned voice. Even after everything, his concern for his best friend never faded. 

"I am sending you some details of a lady and her kid. Send me the contacts of the person who bought their house." 

"Give me half an hour. But who are these people?" 

"They are going to be our responsibility, Steve." 

He cuts the call and sends a quick text with all the details he might need. 

He can't help but turn back towards the bakery to have one last look. He has made up his mind. He was going to tell you the truth. 

he didn't care if it meant you would hate him. There were many people in the town who despised him, what's one more?

But when he turns back and his eyes land up on you, handing a cup of coffee to a middle aged lady, talking to her with a softness unique to you. 

As if you can feel his eyes on you, you turn towards the window and as your eyes meet, your smile grows wider. A smile that's only reserved for him, he realizes. 

And he would have hated himself for how quickly his resolve fades away. 

But Bucky Barnes was not a good man. 

And maybe many people in this world did hate him, but he would be damned if you were one of them. 

He wanted this. The weekly bakery visits, the warmth, the sheer simplicity of it all, even if it was all this was ever going to be. 

And it was about damn time he got what he wanted. 

Why should he apologize for the monster he has become when no one ever apologized for making him this way?

Maybe, one day you'll find out the truth and hate him more for lying to you, but it wasn't going to be anytime soon. He will make sure of that. 

So, he straightens his coat and walks away from the bakery, choosing to not pay any mind to the inevitable doom that could leave the both of you shattered. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*

"James Buchanan Barnes" 

He turns back from what he is doing to find you, cross armed, shooting daggers at him. 

"How could you, James? It's like you're not even trying." 

He can't help the smile that finds its way to his lips at the way you look. Your christmas sweater that you had deemed "perfect" for the occasion and a scarf draped loosely on your neck, trying to look intimidating, just makes you look even cuter. 

You walk towards him and take the candy decoration from his hand, to place it exactly just an inch away from where he was going to, because it looked in your exact words, "more festive" 

Bucky just smiles at you as he watches you ramble more about Christmas decorations. 

When a week ago, he had heard you reminding Pietro that he had to come over to help you decorate, he had stepped in and offered his help. He was free that day anyways, he had told you. There was an international shipment that he had to sign off that day, but that could wait. 

When Pietro had shaken his hand and thanked him for 'saving him', he didn't understand, but now he did. You were extremely particular about how each and everything had to look for christmas and was not shy to tell the other person what a terrible job they were doing if it wasn't exactly the way you had wanted.

But if the cute pout on your face and the warmth that it caused in his chest was any indication, it was worth it. The cookies whose smell reached him even in the living room was just an added bonus. 

Right now, standing in the middle of your apartment, surrounded by incomplete decorations that signaled the arrival of a festival he wouldn't have cared the slightest about a year ago, being scolded by you for not hanging the canes correctly, he regretted nothing. 

3 hours and a lot of debates later, all of which you won, the house was finally decorated enough for the festival. 

"Here you go." You said, handing him a warm cup of coffee and placing a plate full of cookies on the table in front of him. It was your way of saying thank you. 

Bucky looks around your apartment. It's just above the bakery and much smaller than the mansion he lived in. But it felt different in a way he couldn't point out. 

A shelf filled to the brim with books standing in the corner, pictures adorning the walls, each telling a different story. Some soft music playing on the speaker, it was like a blanket of warmth stood over your house. A little messy, but beautiful nonetheless. 

His eyes then land on you, sitting across from him on the sofa, sipping your coffee with a warm, content look on your face, your scarf now lying on the table. 

As if you could feel his gaze, you turn back to look at him and your breath hitches in the throat at the way he is looking at you. 

It's as if the world could crumble around him and he wouldn't blink an eye. 

You can't get yourself to look away. So, you just raise your eyebrows, because you have suddenly forgotten how to breathe and if he didn't look away right now, you are not sure you will be able to survive longer. 

He just shrugs and turns towards his coffee, as if it was a natural occurrence. As if your whole world hadn't stopped spinning for a moment there. 

Bucky looks at you through the corner of his eyes and watches as red color creeps up to your neck and you try your hardest to not smile. 

He now recognises the feeling. 

Your apartment feels like home. 

And the next realization brings with itself questions and doubts he wasn't ready to answer. 

He wouldn't rather be anywhere else. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩

He clenches his fist as he drags his feet towards the bakery. 

It was pretty late. He knew that. 

But he just had to be there. 

He liked his work more often than not. The impending guilt and the danger aside, the reason that had initially brought him to this world still stood. 

It made him feel something. The adrenaline of each task, the satisfaction of seeing everything that belonged to his enemies burning down till there was nothing but smoke.  

The mafia world had welcomed the darkness that he had inside of him and made him one of their own, for which he will be eternally grateful. 

But for some time now, it hasn't been enough. 

The darkness that had surrounded and consumed him for so many years now was suddenly not enough. 

Something inside him changed. 

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he had thought twice before shooting that man today. The whispers inside him that asked him every time 'if there was any other way' had become louder now and even the noise of the bullets couldn't silence it. 

He knew what was happening. 

He was seeking the light.

And every single part of him knew that this could only end in disaster. In a fire that threatened to burn every single thing to the last piece. 

But that didn't stop him from taking the next step. Or the one after that. 

He was still walking to the one place that could silence away his thoughts and make it all go away. Like a moth attracted to a flame. 

Maybe this was selfish of him. Maybe he was tainting you with his darkness. 

He will think about that some other day. 

When the bakery comes into view, he realizes just how late it is. 

You would be about to close now. 

Maybe he could catch a glimpse before you retired for the night. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. But it had to do. 

As he reaches the bakery, he watches as the door slowly opens and a young boy steps out. 

He frowns before walking ahead, and his eyes almost widen with who he sees. 

"Peter, what are you doing here?" 

Peter looks up from the book he is currently holding and his eyes widen with fear at the figure who stands before him. 

"S - sir, I - I was just - " 

A voice from inside the bakery calls out to him. A voice Bucky recognizes all too well. 

"Peter, you forgot this." 

You step out of the bakery with a textbook in your hands as you hand it over to Peter. 

Peter opens his mouth to speak but then closes it. Too afraid about what was going to happen. 

You turn around and when your eyes land on James, your lips turn into a grin before you know it. 

"James, hi"

Peter's eyebrows shoot up as he looks between the both of you. You have a glint in your eyes as if you couldn't be happier by anything else and the man he had feared with everything he had for the last couple of years, had a softness to his features that made Peter wonder if he was somehow swallowed into an alternate dimension. 

"Hey, sweets." Bucky says almost on instinct, before turning towards the boy who is still looking at the both of them as if he just saw a dolphin flying in the air. 

You probably notice it too, because you then point towards Peter before saying, "James, this is Peter, and Peter, this is James Barnes." 

"James?" Peter says almost on instinct, confusion evident in his voice. 

"Wait, you know him?" You ask, looking between the both of them now. 

Peter looks at Bucky and almost crumbles with fear by the warning glare he is shooting towards him. But there is something else there too. Something, he can swear he has never seen in the mob boss' eyes. 

There is fear in them. A tiny flicker of it. He fears the answer he is going to tell you. Whatever it was, it was too important for him. 

"No, no. I don't think we have met before." 

"Oh, okay." You say, confused as to what had just happened here. "All the best for the test and tell MJ I said hi," You give him an easy exit from a situation he was clearly uncomfortable in. 

You watch as a small blush spreads across his cheeks before he bids you goodbye and glancing at James once, takes his leave. 

"He is a nice kid." You break the silence after Peter walks away, out of earshot. "Pretty smart. I was helping him with his test tomorrow." 

Bucky looks back at you and shrugs in response. "Good for him." 

"By the way, it's closing time, James." You say with a teasing voice and he is relieved that you don't ask any further questions. 

"Come on, sweets. You could make an exception for your favorite customer." 

You roll your eyes before replying. "What about this? You help me clean up, and I get you something special I made today." 

"Help you clean up?" 

"Aww. The prince doesn't like to get his hands all dirty?" You smirk. 

"This special treat should better be worth it, sweets." He huffs before walking inside the bakery. 

You walk in behind him while giggling. 

__

"And that's it." 

You look at him with a smile and silently clap your hands together with an impressed look. 

If any of his men would see him right now, wearing an apron with a bunny on it, hands covered in flour, working in a bakery with soft music playing in the background, their eyes would pop out of their heads. But he couldn't care less. 

"Great job for a first timer, Barnes. You have earned yourself a serving of something special." 

Bucky smirked before replying, "Something special, you say?" He leans in and sends a wink your way. 

You roll your eyes before turning towards the kitchen, hoping that it wasn't evident how flustered you were.

You take out something from a box and place it on a plate in front of him. 

Bucky looked at it closely with a frown. It was clearly made of chocolate and was shaped like a dome. He could swear he had never seen it in your bakery before. 

"Come on, give it a try. If I wanted to poison you, I would have done it ages ago." 

He picks up one and after a moment of close inspection, takes a bite. 

As the taste of chocolate invades his senses, he moans and puts the whole into his mouth. 

You watch as his head falls back in delight. 

Once he is done, which is faster than he would have wanted, he says, "Sweets, that was the best damn thing I have ever had." 

You chuckle, "You say that every single time, James."

"And I mean it every single time." 

You just smile at him before putting another on the plate. 

As he devours that one quickly too, he inquires, "What is it called?" 

You smirk before replying, "James." 

"Yeah?" 

"James. That's what it is called." 

His eyes widen and he takes a moment to reply, "You named a sweet after me?"

"Well, technically, you were the inspiration for this." 

He frowns. "How so?" 

"Well, It's full of chocolate and exceptionally sweet. It's exterior is hard but its insides are so soft, they practically melt in your mouth." 

Bucky looks at you, baffled and you look away, unable to meet his eyes. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but is suddenly shushed by you. 

"That's my favorite song." You whisper, as if not wanting to obstruct the soft melody. 

Bucky listens to the sound coming from your phone.

Wise men say

"Only fools rush in"

But I can't help

Falling in love with you

He looks back at you and at the way you have a soft smile on your face, your features highlighted by the soft glow of the kitchen light. 

You look at him and with a teasing smile puts your hand forward, indicating to him to take it. 

He looks between your outstretched hand and your face with a frown.

"Dance with me." Your voice is so soft, he just can't get himself to say no. But, who is kidding? He will set the whole world on fire and watch it burn with a smile on his face if you asked him to. 

He slowly places his hand in yours as the music continues. 

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help

Falling in love with you

The both of you stand in the middle of the kitchen, the moonlight sweeping its way through the windows. 

Everything is brightened in a warm glow but you know nothing will ever shine brighter than the way his ocean blue eyes do right now. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

One of his arms finds its way around your waist while the other holds yours. 

You place your free hand on his shoulder and he gently pulls you closer. 

The both of you stay like that for the rest of the song, swaying slowly to the music. 

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

You don't know who  leans first but before you know it, the distance between the both of you starts decreasing. 

You hold your breath and your gaze move from his eyes to his lips. 

You would be lying if you said you had never thought of this before, of how his lips would feel against yours, how he would taste like. 

This man had occupied your thoughts since the day you had met all those months ago and you were pretty sure he had no idea of the effect he had on you. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

Just as the song is about to end and there's nothing but an inch of distance between the both of you, the door to the bakery was suddenly pushed open with a force and the sound of the bells invaded the comfortable silence that had covered the room in a blanket. 

The both of you took a sudden step away, and you needed a moment to calm your heart which felt like it was about to beat its way out of your chest, before looking up to see who it. was. 

You squinted as two men, one blonde and the other dark haired, stood at the door, looking comically too big, having no idea of what transcribed in the bakery before they had not-so-smoothly barged in. 

The blonde one speaks, breaking the silence, "I knew we'd find you here." 

You watch as he steps towards James, who looks at him with sheer annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here, punk?" 

The other man looks at you and forms a smirk before stepping towards you. "So, this is where you always sneak off to? I guess I understand why." 

James huffs in annoyance and with a sten face stops him, "Shut up, Wilson." 

You look between the men who looked like they were in a staring contest when realization hit you. "Steve and Sam?" 

All the men look at you at the same time and you feel like a deer caught in headlights before you stand up straighter reminding yourself that no matter how intimidating the situation was, this was your bakery. 

"And you must be y/n l/n. It's great to finally meet you, Ms l/n" Steve says, smiling. 

"Please, just call me y/n." 

"Or we could call you beautiful." Sam replies before stepping forwards, stretching his hand to take yours for a shake. 

You let out a chuckle before shaking his hand. "Y/n is fine." 

"What are the both of you doing here?" Bucky speaks up, shooting daggers at Sam, his fists clenched. 

"There's an emergency. We need to go." Steve replies, a serious expression adorning his face. 

Sam interjects them "What's the hurry? I have heard so much about this bakery. We could eat something before leaving." 

Bucky spats at him, "This bakery has closed, Wilson. Time's up. Get your butt moving." 

Sam pouts and you chuckle at the antics of these grown men, "Why don't you come here some other day, Sam, I have something that I think you'll like." 

Sam looks at you, a childlike smile replacing his pout, "I like her already." 

Bucky steps forward towards Sam, pulling him away. "Don't listen to him, sweets." 

Steve and Sam turn their head towards him so fast. you are sure they will get a sprain later. Sam raises his brows with a smirk on his face, while Steve looks at him with a smile on his. 

James then quickly bids you goodbye before pulling the both of them outside the bakery. 

Once they reach the car Steve and Sam had driven in, they both look at him with amused grins. 

"Back off, the both of you. What's the emergency?" 

Steve's expression turns serious as he replies, "Our shipment from Iran has been stopped at Morocco and they are refusing to comply." 

Bucky narrows his eyes at the information. Who would dare to stop their shipment and risk getting on his bad books? "Who is it, Steve?"

"It's Alexander Pierce." 

Bucky lets out a breath before looking in the direction of the bakery once more  and then turning towards Steve and Sam. 

"Get in the car. We need to leave right now. This is going to be a long assignment."

Next part

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[papiliomame]

Road to 3D- Sam Manson (Part 2):

Character Modeling

Part 1: Model Sheet

Welcome to the second and final part of this project. Since people have asked how I do my models, I decided to make a write-up on how I approach these things using the example of a model of Sam Manson. The first part focused on how I make a model sheet fo a 3d model the second part focus just on the modeling. There are many more things about how to create a fully realized 3d character that I could make whole other chapters for, like UV unwrapping, texturing, shading and rigging, but I don't have enough knowledge past the fundamentals on these topics that could warrant their own seperate posts.

Additional stuff before I continue:

I use Blender for all my model

This not a beginners guide or something similar, it would be helpful to already know the general workflow of a modeling, how to use Blender and know different terminology like edgeflow, retopology etc.

If you are a beginner and want to learn more about character modeling I recommend the videoseries "Modeling for Animation" by Dikko on Youtube

Maybe I make some reference some tricks from this videoseries

That's it, let's go!

My first step is always the block-out phase. The block-out phase is what the construction lines and the first sketch in a drawing are. I align the frontview and sideview from the model sheet I made in part 1 with the z-axis (the blue line in the images above) and roughly shape out the forms with primitive forms. For this I mostly use a cube with a subdivide modifier.

Having a modelsheet without the clothes obscuring the body makes it much easier the get the form right. The block-out phase is one of the most important steps, if it looks good than I have practically half the work done. This is also a good opportunity to practice anatomy.

After this stage I continue with the head. First of all, don't forget to add the mirror modifier so I just need to model half of the model. There are different methods to approach modeling the head, like sculpt the head first, retopologize and than bake all the deatails onto the retopologized head. I actually prefer to polymodel the head especially when I have a good model sheet. I practially trace the lineart from the model sheet by extruding vertices, once from the frontview and once from the sideview. The most important points are the form of the eyes, the mouth, the form of the face and the jawline. The head block-out is used as an anchor point for the shrinkwrap modifier so that the traced forms actually look like they belong to a 3d form and not 2d lines floating space. From this point on it's just connecting everything, pull and push vertices so it looks like a 3d head and make sure the edgeflow is good. (It's also helpful to know how the planes of the head look like) After that I add the eyelashes, eyebrow, eyes and the ears, now it looks like something!

Now comes the hair. For the hair I used the "curve trick" like mentioned in the video series I recommended. Here is a tip to save time: I choose some edges from the head, duplicate and seperate it from the mesh. I convert this seperated line into a curve and choose a beziercircle as a bevel geometry. This is now the perfect foundation to model the hair further. One thing I needed a long time to notice: To get the beziercircle to a perfect square or in this case a triangle lower the Resolution U to 1 in the shape options. Now I just convert the curves into a mesh and add details and the head is done!

With the head finished I continue with the body. Remember how I wrote with a good block-out half of the work ist finished? Well, for this step I practically just use the smooth brush in sculpt mode and smooth everything out so everything looks connected. Then I retopologize the body and that's it. Well, ok there is a little bit more to it: Before smoothing things out I join the block-out part to a single mesh and remesh it with the remash modifier expept for the hands. I prefer to polymodel the hands seperatly without worrying about the rest of the body because they are difficult to model. I reattach them later. Speaking of reattaching, I make sure that the connection points have the same number of vertices while I retopologize/polymodel. To ensure that, I often use the following trick visualized with a simple example ( which is also described in the video series):

I want to reduce the amount of edges at the bottom of this plane, for this I merge 3 vertices from the middle into 1 vertice seen in the left image. After that I can select the blue marked edges from the center image and dissolve them. The result, which you can see on the right, is a nice clean edgeflow with a reduction in the number of edges.

After modeling every part I attach them together and I have a finished bodymesh the work with.

Now onto the clothes, for this I use the model sheet with clothes as reference. Having a retopologized body makes it easier to model simple stuff like e.g. Sam's shirt. On the left image the marked faces of the the bodymesh already looks like a shirt. I just need to duplicate and seperate this area, clean it up a little and the shirt is basically finished. The more complex stuff like the boots I need to polymodel around the bodymesh.

With that the modeling part is done! Now comes the things I said above: uv unwrapping, texture painting, rigging and shading. These are whole other topics I cannot go deeper because I'm still learning how to do these things but I hope my little write-up about how I appoach character modeling was enough to learn one thing or two.

Thank you for your time and thank for reading!

[maryangelex]

Never Let Me Go

Captain John Price x f!Reader

Part 2 here

Summary: You worked at a coffeehouse, your life is filled with mundanity and you wouldn't change it for anything else. That is, until one crisp autumn morning, you meet the handsome Captain John Price and there’s an immediate, undoubted connection between the two of you.

WC: 3,352

Warnings: fluff, smut in other chapters, cheesy coffee shop au, inaccuracies, soft!price, barista!reader, some reader descriptions, slow romance, pet names, meet-cute.

A/N: Remember that Price series I mentioned? Here ya go!!! Each chapter will be the title of a song I feel is related to it or that I was listening to while writing it hehe so make sure to check that out ;) I'm planning for 6 chapters but there might be more. Smut will happen eventually, of course!

The song for Chapter 1 is I'm On Fire by Bruce Springsteen, but also the covers of it by Awolnation and Gus Dapperton.

Happy reading!!

Dawn was breaking through the clouds. The waking sun broke through grey clouds that poured a steady, incessant shower of rain; the contrast of the glimmering rays against the somber clouds painted a watercolor sky. 

You walked down the cobblestone street, the heel of your shoes clinking with every stride as you walked into the coffeehouse at a speedy pace. It was the middle of autumn, the weather was tepid and chilly. You worked at Roasts & Poets, a hybrid of a cafe and a bookstore that your sweet aunt had left your favorite cousin, and she had been gracious enough to let you run it alongside her. 

Every morning was the same, and you wouldn't change a thing about it. You arrived at the crack of dawn to open the cafe, you were alone until your cousin arrived much later; you had always been more diligent and work-oriented than her when it came to running the cafe. You went through the whole process of the opening shift: setting the chairs and tables, stocking the sugars and napkins, picking up your cousin's slack from yesterday's closing shift, and setting out the freshly baked pastries. 

That's how you start your day every day. Your life was simple yet rewarding. Alone behind the counter, you took in the sight of the deserted shop, the smell of the books on their shelves collecting dust hitting your nostrils while sleep was still weighing down your eyes. The stillness and silence of the shop every morning made you content and warm. 

About half an hour later, your cousin arrived. The energy in her contrasted your mellowness. The minute she walked through the door, the sound of her cheery greeting and of the edge of the door's swing knocking the bell atop it sparked you awake. You gave her a wide smile as she stormed in, the rays of sun being her spotlight. 

"Morning, cuz," she beamed, you returned the greeting mid-yawn, followed by you letting out a loud sigh. She set her coat on the hooks next to the door beside yours -- you two had set those there as a cozy detail for your customers. 

"I had the best night last night," she started, walking towards you behind the counter and tying an apron around her waist the same as you. "Remember that guy I told you about?" 

"The Birmingham one?" you scoffed, remembering the drunken night when your cousin could not stop rambling about the bloke from Birmingham who stood her up.

"No," she rolled her eyes, "the hot one my friend set me up with!" 

You vaguely recalled, giving her an affirmative nod as your eyes drifted up, trying to remember the details of her extensive, messy love life. The two of you had been close and very similar since you were kids, but what stood out between you was how much of a hopeless romantic she was. You were more reserved about it; even though you knew it sounded cliche, you had decided long ago that the right man for you would come to you one day. Your knight in shining armor, your prince charming, perhaps. So you'd rather wait passively for that moment rather than how your cousin approached men head-on. 

You listened to her fawning over her most recent rendezvous with her new suitor, amused and enjoying her experience vicariously. 

As the day progressed, you welcomed and attended more patrons. You and your cousin took turns between taking orders and ringing up anyone who purchased books. There were a few regulars who came in every morning for a quiet space to work in, and others who just liked to lounge and read a book they had purchased along with a coffee in the comfy sofas you and your cousin had picked out when setting up the shop -- you had lost count of how many years ago that had been. 

When the shop was slowing down, you liked to prop your elbow on the counter, resting your chin on your hand as you people-watched. You loved the tranquility of it, thinking about each one's stories, reading them like books. 

One of the regulars was a man who always came in a burgundy knitted sweater and sat down with his laptop and headphones. He was quiet and reserved but always left you gratuitous tips; you knew his order and routine like the back of your hand. Another one was an older lady who always wore something pink, no matter what the rest of her outfit consisted of or what the occasion was. She was kind as well, but when she was feeling chatty she would sit at the counter and talk your ear off; today was a quiet day for her as she sipped her chamomille and read her novellas.   

As much as you enjoyed the peace of the shop, today was not a great day for silence for you. You hadn't gotten the best sleep last night, you had opted for binging the show you had been obsessing over and downed an entire bottle of wine by yourself. So, between your early start to the day and the light thumping of the headache you had medicated was making your eyes heavy with sleep. You couldn't wait for your shift to be over, maybe you would ask your cousin to let you lie down in the back. 

The sound of the bell as the door swung open jolted you awake for the second time today. You stood upright, fixing your posture and glancing at the door to greet the incoming customer. Your eyes captured a man you hadn't seen before around the area. He was tall with a bearded face and had a burly physique, sporting a navy blue sweater and grey coat that matched the beanie he slid off his head. You gave him a welcoming smile, not paying him much mind because of the sleep that still crept into your eyes. He returned the gesture as he made his way across the store, disappearing from your vision. 

You let out a sigh as you rubbed your knuckles into your lids. You desperately need a coffee if you want to get through the day, you thought, turning on your heels to pull yourself two shots of espresso. You poured the shots into a cup of milk you had frothed, making yourself a latte to spark some energy into you. 

As you turned back around to face the counter you were caught off guard by-- 

" 'Scuse me, miss?" a smokey voice startled you, making your body jump in place with a gasp escaping your lips. The latte in your hands splashed in your grasp at the sudden response of your body, its contents lightly spilling over your apron. 

"Shit!" you hissed, setting the cup down on the work counter behind you and grabbing the nearest rag to wipe your hands clean from any coffee that got on them. You looked up to the man across the counter, laughing at yourself in a mix of embarrassment at your clumsiness and lighthearted amusement. 

At that moment, your eyes caught onto the face of the mystery man who had recently walked in. His expression was genuinely concerned and apologetic, truly not knowing what to do with himself as he stood across the counter. 

"I'm so sorry, love, didn't mean to startle you," he stumbled over his words, "you alright?" 

His voice was raspy and deep, sultry even. You noted the details of his face: blue eyes stared back at you, surrounded by long lashes and bushy eyebrows, his pink, velvety lips slightly parted as if having more apologies to let out, his nose pointed and narrow, and his beard neat and full. He was handsome, truly, and you couldn't look away. 

"No worries!" you finally let out, a large smile on your face. "That's what these things are for!" you let out an awkward laugh, too loud to not give away the fact that you were flustered by his looks. Your hands worked the knot of the apron that tied at your waist as you spoke. 

The man let out a nervous chuckle as he watched you, still dumbfounded and itching to help in some way like he was uncomfortable with himself for just standing by.

"What can I help you with, sir?" You asked, tossing the apron in a bin under the counter, where you and your cousin kept any kitchen cloths and rags that needed to be washed after your shift. You didn't break eye contact with the man as you did, you found it impossible to when his blue eyes sucked you like the depth of an ocean. 

The man cleared his throat and fixed his posture, a nervous smile pulling at his bearded cheeks, "I was just wonderin' if y'could help me pick out a book" he pointed his thumb over his shoulders to the shelves behind him, "Any recommendations? 'M not sure where to look."  

You responded with an eager 'of course' as you circled the counter, leading him to the array of shelves. "Are you looking for anything in particular?" 

"Erm, up to your suggestion, really," he stood behind you, letting you take the lead, his eyes weighted on you. You responded with a pensive hum as your eyes scanned the shelves, hand holding your chin. You mumbled something under your breath and moved on to a different shelf. You reached for one of the books and turned back to him, handing the selection over to him. He took it from your hands.

Large hands, you observed. You hadn't realized until now how much taller the man was compared to you. You weren't a petite girl, but, this man stood tall; the way he carried himself proudly made him look even larger. 

He eyed the book, taking a moment to read the cover. He chuckled lightly to himself and glanced over to you. 

"As You Like It," he read. 

"You read it?" you asked a bit flustered, afraid you had made the wrong choice, "I recommend it to everyone." 

"I haven't, actually," he looked over to it again, "Not very well versed in Shakespeare." 

You chuckled a bit, "Well, this is a good one to get you into it." 

"I trust you," he said, a smirk on his face that made your cheeks burn. 

"It can be a bit hard to read but..." you shrugged, "It's one of my favorites." 

"I'll come to you if I need help, then." 

Your stomach fluttered at his words. Was he flirting? Maybe he's just a charming guy, nothing special. 

"Would you like anything else?" you stuttered. His gaze made you shift and adjust yourself, making you feel vulnerable to have it on you. 

"I'd like a tea to keep you company while you finish your coffee if that's alright," he flirted, his husky voice made the hairs on your arms stand up. 

You simply nodded with a smile and he followed you back to the counter. He sat on one of the stools as you stood behind the bar, he had asked you for a black tea and you steeped it for him, setting down a creamer and cup of sugar for him to add to taste. You went back to the latte you had made yourself, pouring it into ice after having let it get cold, and observed the man as subtly as you could manage. You noted he liked his tea on the sweeter side, maybe you would use that information for the next time he came around. You hoped he would. 

You watched as he took a sip from the cup, humming to himself and licking his lips as he set the cup back down. 'Good tea', he said softly as if to himself. You couldn't help but let a smile tug at the corners of your lips; something about him enjoying it was pleasant to you. 

"I'm John, by the way," he spoke up, his arms crossed on the counter. His eyes were on you again, and they were amiable and warm as they held contact with yours. You responded by telling him your name. 

"Are you new around here, John?" you reclined on the counter behind you, your coffee in one hand. 

"I am, I just moved in nearby," he took another sip from his cup. 

"What made you pick this place, if I may ask?" 

"Well, military accommodations, mainly," he cleared his throat. 

Military, you thought. No wonder he was such a large and buff man. You noticed the flexed muscles that bulged under his sweater. That sweater did them no justice, you were sure. 

"So you're a soldier?" 

"Somethin' like that, yeah," he scoffed with a smirk. You gave him a small smile as well but chose not to press any further. 

"What about the shop, what made you come in here?" 

"Seemed like a cozy place to spend the day," he gave you a once over, not very conspicuously, "the pretty barista's a bonus." 

You rolled your eyes at his comment but couldn't help the reddening of your cheeks or the growth of your smile that you tried but failed to suppress. 

At that moment, your cousin walked through the door. John's eyes didn't budge to look at the door, though, they were glued on you. She passed behind him, giving you the most excited expression you had seen on her face thus far, and mouthed something along the lines of 'He is so fit!" as she made her way to the back of the store with bags of ingredients in her hands. You scoffed at her and returned to look at John. 

"You flirt with all the baristas you find pretty, John?" 

"Only the ones that look like you," the man quipped, chuckling lightly to himself as if acknowledging how cheesy he was being. His comment made you laugh wholeheartedly, shaking your head at it.  

John finished his tea and fished into his pocket for his wallet, "I hate to leave, but... how much do I owe you, love?" 

"It's on the house," you crossed your arms over your chest, giving him a cheeky look, "for being a first-time customer." 

John gave you a smile with lightly flushed cheeks himself along with a grateful nod. He left his wallet in his pocket as he stood up from his seat and dressed his head with the beanie he had come in with. 

"I'll come back 'round to tell you how the book's goin'," he signaled the book in his hand on the way out the door, "You make great company, love." 

"Likewise, John," you bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from gushing at his words. You were using every atom in your body to not let yourself completely overflow with glee. 

John gave you a final look and raised his hand goodbye before exiting the shop. You returned the gesture and watched him walk away down the street until he disappeared from your line of sight. 

Once he was gone, you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. You felt your heart skip a beat, maybe two, or even three beats as all the blood from your body surged to your face. Your cousin came skipping giddily from the back of the store, squealing like a schoolgirl as she embraced you. You couldn't help but join her in excitement. The two of you spoke in loud whispers behind the counter.

"That man is in love with you!" 

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, he was just flirting!" 

"Don't you be ridiculous! His eyes were devouring you, idiot! He might as well have fucked--" 

You shushed her loudly and cupped your hand over her mouth, the two of you giggling. You two realized you were still on the clock, with some of the patrons shooting glances at you. It made you both adjust and compose yourselves as best you could, but shot each other knowing looks as you returned to work, cleaning dirty dishes and whatnot. 

"So what's his name?" she asked. 

"John, he just moved around here-- says he's in the military." 

"Agh, hot!" she sang the last word. You rolled your eyes. 

"What book did you give him?" 

"As You Like It" 

"Should've given him Lady Chatterley's Lover, maybe he would've taken the hint," she laughed as you pushed her with a hand playfully. 

The rest of your shift went by uneventfully. You continued to serve more customers, tended to the regulars, and maintained the space. When it was closing time, the rays of the sun entered through the large windows, this time casting the golden glow of dusk. You mopped the floors of the shop and let yourself go deep into your thoughts. 

You thought about John, of course, studying all the details you had taken note of. The way his lashes fanned over his deep, crystal blue eyes; how much care was put into maintaining his facial hair and how soft it looked; how chiseled his nose was; how the sweetness of his smile complimented the sweetness he liked in his tea. He looked much older than you, but you didn't mind the slightest, it was a minor detail to you, if anything. You recalled how he called you pretty, and it made you blush and gave you butterflies. You really hoped he'd come back, but didn't want to disappoint yourself if he didn't.  

Once you two had finished closing, you stood outside the door with your cousin as she turned the key and locked the shop. She continued to tease you about John, making both of you laugh and making you blush with the innuendos and childish taunting she kept telling you. You bid each other farewells until tomorrow, walking your separate directions. 

You lived just a couple of blocks away from the cafe in one of the many apartments nearby. A flat you had all to yourself and you enjoyed the solitude, you had learned to be with yourself from having been your only company, besides your cousin, throughout your life. 

It made you think about the fact that it had been a while since you had liked someone. Did you like John?  The question stood out in your mind. It was definitely too early to tell, you had just met the man quite literally today, hours ago even. But you would be lying if you didn't say you felt some sort of attraction, chemistry between the two of you. Those hopes for seeing him again only grew the more you suppressed them.

But you kept telling yourself 'Don't get too excited,' because you might not see him again, after all. For now, let's simply call it a crush, it's all it was, really. Just a man you found attractive, a kind stranger you made you feel pretty and flattered momentarily, after so long of not hearing any men do so or having their attention.

John certainly gave you a lot of his attention, you thought. Those blue eyes of his. He entrapped you with them. An act as simple as being looked at by him made you feel undressed and vulnerable. 

You shook your head when you were in your flat, just standing there in a trance deep in thought. You sighed and cursed at yourself under your breath. 

You practiced your nightly routine of eating dinner by yourself, showering, dressing in your coziest pajamas, and sitting on your couch alone with either a book or a movie, and maybe a glass of something, maybe wine or a soothing tea.

And for once in your life, you hated being alone.

For once you wished there was someone to keep you company. A company as nice as John had kept you today even if it was brief. You sulked a bit on your sofa as you let that forlorn feeling take over just a little bit. 

And though as much as you loved mundanity, the feeling of having someone new and exciting disrupt your routine sparked a warmth in you. 

God, you hoped you'd see John again. 

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 018: Murphy's Law

You’re only against a handful of things. Of course, the one time you go to bed angry, shit hits the fan.

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters ** = smut chapters

author's note: 2/23/2024 — i don't want you guys to suffer too much, so the last two chapters will be released tomorrow 2/24/2024. i love you guys, thank you for tuning in ♥️

CW: i don't wanna spoil anything, so this whole chapter is a trigger warning. please be mindful of this before reading; ps thank you to @freckledjoes for letting me use this picture of barron/"steve"

word count: 1.3k words

♡

“I’m Natalia, who are you?”

“I’m...Shy Girl,” you narrow your eyes. “My boyfriend Eddie lives here.”

You've never been good at math. But it doesn't take putting 2 and 2 together to realize that — the car in Eddie's spot this morning — belongs to the Nancy look-alike in front of you.

And if you looked too fast, you would've thought that she WAS Nancy. But the strapless tube top, lettuce-trim booty shorts, and lacy black tights on a cold December morning rule out that possibility.

Your eyes trail over to Steve in the background, frantic and sweaty, hairy chest out on display as he shuffles around to find a shirt to throw on. You clear your throat, meeting Natalia’s blue eyes one more time before speaking again.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Oh no girl, you're fine!" the busty brunette chirps, when she realizes you're no longer a threat to her. "I was just heading out. I guess his roomie is going to be back any second now."

Doing your best to conceal your laughter, you step off to the side to allow Steve's booty call to get her things and scoot out the door. Steve watches awkwardly, leaning against the doorway and flashing Natalia a smile as he watches her get to her car safely.

You wait until she’s out of earshot to speak to him.

“Natalia.” you sing with a smirk. “Really?”

“Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“The one you’re making right now, Hargrove. Don’t start.”

Your eyes venture down to the faint bite marks on Steve’s neck. You turn around to look at the doppelgänger one last time, giving her a wave as she drives away.

“Not starting anything,” you insist. “I just think it’s funny.”

He knows what you’re thinking and it doesn’t help his case. Steve steps off to the side, inviting you in. After closing the door behind you, Harrington gestures towards the box in your hand.

“Whatchu got there?”

“Apology cupcakes for Eddie,” you explain. “I was a real bitch to him yesterday so I decided to bake him something to compensate.”

You spent all night guilt-baking, hoping to win Eddie back with the cute vanilla cupcakes topped with sad red frowns on them, followed by a homemade card that reads, "I'm sorry for pushing you against the wall". Expecting Steve to find it adorable, he offers you a rather confused reaction instead.

"…Eddie didn’t stay over last night?” he asks with a cocked brow.

Your heart sinks.

“No… I thought he came straight here after Wayne’s.”

“Well obviously he didn’t,” Steve says. “Hence why I had Nat spend the night.”

“Well do you think he’s at Dustin’s?”

“I’m not sure, I haven’t spoken to the guy since yesterday morning.”

Something's off. Immediately rushing to the living room, you set the cupcakes down so you can call Wayne. It rings a few times but Eddie's uncle doesn’t pick up.

"Wayne's not picking up."

“That’s odd,” Steve gulps. “He almost always does.”

So you go to message Eddie. It's a simple text, Where are you? Straight to the point. To your complete shock, your usual blue text bubbles turn green. Eddie's phone is off. What the hell?

So you go to call him next. It doesn't hurt to try. But then your knees start to buckle when you're immediately directed to an automated voicemail box.

“We’re sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please try again later.”

The room is as frostbitten as the air outside. Steve senses abrupt energy shift.

You scroll nervously through your phone. The next person to contact is Dustin. Outside of his friendship with Steve, he is the next person closest to Eddie. But Curly doesn't pick up either.

"Oh god," you feel the color rushing from your face.

"Hargrove, i-it's okay," Steve attempts. "He's probably with Jeff or Gareth or Grant or somethin', o-okay? Let's not jump to conclusions."

He rests a warm hand atop your arm, grounding you back down to earth. You turn to him with worry. He rubs your back to comfort you.

"Eddie would never do anything to hurt himself on purpose," Steve assures you. "I can promise you that much. Don't let your mind go there."

"Okay," you exhale.

"But he is stupid though," Steve adds. "So, to be safe, we should probably check the hospital. Or urgent care. Dude probably cucked his ankle again."

And with that, you two set off to Hawkins Memorial on the other side of town.

The icy roads seem to draw on for miles as Steve drives. And you had no desire to explore the vastness of Roane County, for as long as Eddie isn’t there waiting for you at whatever coordinate the wind blows you to next.

Tapping your feet anxiously on the floor, you click your phone on and off again to see whether or not a message from Eddie pops up. It’s the same outcome every time.

Steve’s gentle hand rests on top of your trembling ones once again. He gives you a soft pat.

“It’ll all be okay, Shy Girl,” he says to you. “Promise.”

Thankfully, hospital parking is almost immediate. Booking it to the emergency department now, you and Steve rush to get to the front of the line to speak to the receptionist. When it's finally your turn, she greets you rather stoically.

“Can I help you?”

Without violating HIPAA?

“I sure hope so,” you sigh. “This is a wellness check. Do you guys maybe have a Munson admitted here?”

“Munson…” the last name marinates on the lady’s tongue almost as if she’s familiar with it. You wouldn’t doubt it. Wayne’s a frequent flyer due to the cancer and Hawkins is quite literally a speck of dust on the map.

You try to help her. “Maybe an Eddie…Edward… or quite possibly a Wayne…”

“Quite possibly a Wayne?” the lukewarm secretary echos you.

“Yes!” you hiss urgently. “Or maybe a John Doe? A guy in his late twenties, early thirties... This person most likely came in yesterday afternoon, night, or maybe even this morning. He has brown hai-"

“Shy Girl…” comes a voice behind you.

It’s one of the Munsons you’re looking for. But to your surprise, not the one you were expecting.

"Wayne..." you breathe.

In front of you is Eddie's uncle, sitting in his wheelchair evidently a bawling mess. If he’s here and Eddie’s not, it can only mean one thing.

Your throat tightens and you struggle to speak. A thin veil of tears gloss over your eyes, your fingertips essentially frozen now as the sterile white building closes up around you.

“Wayne…” you say again. “What happened?”

His uncle sniffs, drawing out uneven breaths as he tries to calm down, nose an irritable red to match his glassy, sleep-deprived eyes.

“There’s... been an accident,” he chokes. “They T-boned him. Van is totaled.”

That van. That stupid fucking van you’ve told Eddie time and time again to get rid of.

“Wayne," Steve interrogates. "Who drove you here?”

“The Henderson boy.”

You can't take it anymore.

“Where is he?!” you demand. “And why aren’t you with him, Wayne?! WHERE IS EDDIE?”

“Doctors won’t tell me nothin'!” Wayne blubbers, his voice cracking like a helpless child. “But as someone whose second home is the hospital, I know what that means.”

The three of you take this time to cry. You instantly collapse into Steve's arms. He embraces you tight, dragging you off to the side so the people who were waiting behind you could be helped next.

Nothing matters anymore, you think to yourself. This is what you get for going to bed angry. The one time. The one time. And as the three of you start to gather yourselves again — rather slowly — Wayne speaks once more... uttering a belief that you've already come to terms with. Something that you already know.

“It’s not looking good for Eddie.”

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins

oh yeah, song of the chapter is...

side note: s/o to DR. bridgit mendler, the irl barbie

[ai-manre]

Dany's second to last chapter in ADWD is one of my favorites of the entire series, it reveals so much about her character.

The sky was a merciless blue, without a wisp of cloud in sight. The bricks will soon be baking in the sun, thought Dany. Down on the sands, the fighters will feel the heat through the soles of their sandals.

This is the chapter where the fighting pits are reopened. It opens with melancholy that she was letting something this heinous happen, that she lost what she had fought for to achieve a senseless and futile peace. What's the worth of peace if it's bought with the blood of slaves?

“The yellow silk.” The queen of the rabbits could not be seen without her floppy ears. The yellow silk was light and cool, and it would be blistering down in the pit. The red sands will burn the soles of those about to die. “And over it, the long red veils.” The veils would keep the wind from blowing sand into her mouth. And the red will hide any blood spatters.

Again and again, she thinks of the discomfort of those fighting in the pits while she sits comfortably in her seat. That very thought seems to disgust her and bring her despair.

When they caught sight of the palanquin emerging from the pyramid, a cheer went up from those nearest and spread across the plaza. How queer, the queen thought. They cheer me on the same plaza where I once impaled one hundred sixty-three Great Masters.

“One step, then the next, and soon we shall be running. Together we shall make a new Meereen.” The street ahead had finally cleared. “Shall we continue on?”

What could she do but nod? One step, then the next, but where is it I’m going?

Ten thousand throats roared out their thanks; then twenty thousand; then all. They did not call her name, which few of them could pronounce. “Mother!” they cried instead; in the old dead tongue of Ghis, the word was Mhysa! They stamped their feet and slapped their bellies and shouted, “Mhysa, Mhysa, Mhysa,” until the whole pit seemed to tremble. Dany let the sound wash over her. I am not your mother, she might have shouted back, I am the mother of your slaves, of every boy who ever died upon these sands whilst you gorged on honeyed locusts.

Behind her, Reznak leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Magnificence, hear how they love you!” No, she knew, they love their mortal art.

Hizdahr ignored the eunuch. “Magnificence, the people of Meereen have come to celebrate our union. You heard them cheering you. Do not cast away their love.”

“It was my floppy ears they cheered, not me. Take me from this abbatoir, husband.” She could hear the boar snorting, the shouts of the spearmen, the crack of the pitmaster’s whip.

This chapter is full of Dany's musings of how she became the opposite of what she meant to be. She was the Mother of those fighting in the pits, not the ones in the stands, and it is at this point that she reaches the culmination of her Queen of Rabbits vs Mother of Dragons/Freedmen arc. She cannot take the horror of the fighting pits anymore and gets up to leave. And that is the moment Drogon appears, almost as if he knew it was time Dany was ready to shed the floppy ears.

Then-

Ser Barristan held her tightly. “Look away, Your Grace.”

“Let me go!” Dany twisted from his grasp. The world seemed to slow as she cleared the parapet. When she landed in the pit she lost a sandal. Running, she could feel the sand between her toes, hot and rough. Ser Barristan was calling after her. Strong Belwas was still vomiting. She ran faster.

This, to me, is the culmination of her arc, of her finally reclaiming her identity as Daenerys Targaryen, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons. Not only because she actually rushes in to save Drogon and fight him at the same time, but because she finally feels the sand between her own toes.

Dany finally gets out of the seats of the nobility and into the fighting pits, the place where slaves fight and shed their blood. She feels the hot sand under her feet, just like they felt it, and she fights as they fought. She's one of them again, their champion, their rescuer. Not one of those sitting up with their tokars on, not the one sitting with the masters. She is fighting among them and faces off her deepest fear and finds only freedom beyond. That is Daenerys Targaryen.

[eiightysixbaby]

i’ll be home for christmas

PART FOUR: Merry Christmas, Darling

previous chapter || series masterlist

word count: 7.4k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie’s return sends you through emotional turmoil. can things go back to the way they were?

cw: angst, there’s a lotttt of feelings in this chapter whew what a ride, mentions of alcohol consumption, brief mention of reader’s parents - they aren’t described it’s just mentioned that we go to see them, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’

author’s note: the final part is here!! thank you all soooo much for coming on this little journey with me. i’ve had so much fun writing this fic, and i appreciate every kind comment i’ve received. keep your eyes peeled in the coming weeks, there’s an extra something i’m working on for this universe :)

Present Day: Christmas Eve, 1989.

Eddie. You’re staring at Eddie, that much you know. He’s standing right in front of you, yet it all feels hazy. There’s a ringing in your ears that won’t stop, a sickness in your gut that won’t ease. You say nothing as you step aside to let Dustin and the rest of the kids rush to the door to greet the man before you.

He looks at you, desperately, before being swarmed by everyone else.

“Eddie! Holy shit!!” Dustin yells, throwing his full weight at the man and barely giving him time to get his bearings.

“What are you doing here!?” Lucas asks, pushing Dustin out of the way to get his own hug.

“Slow down, you gremlins,” Eddie laughs. Oh, god, his laugh. It makes your stomach churn. What was once music to your ears is now an unfamiliar sound. You’d know his laugh anywhere. But you don’t feel like you know him anymore. “How’s everyone doing? I missed you fuckers,” he says, ruffling Max’s hair.

“We missed you,” she says, rolling her eyes as if she can’t be bothered. Eddie knows it’s just an act.

You move out of the doorway, feeling like you’re in a daze as you walk back to the living room.

“Did you guys know about this?” you ask Nancy, Robin, and Steve once they turn expectantly to catch your reaction to the whole surprise.

“Yeah, he got in a few days ago. We wanted it to be a surprise,” Robin says, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to cover a smile.

“Right,” you say, not matching her excitement as you sit down in an empty chair. It explains why the girls were acting so weird during your baking session. It explains why you made the stupid raspberry cookies.

You can feel Jonathan’s eyes boring into you, watching your every move. You don’t look at him, knowing you’ll break if you see the concerned expression you know will be on his face. Nancy’s about to say something when Eddie and the teens come swarming in, Dustin already blabbering his ear off. You go stiff in your seat, not meeting those gorgeous brown eyes and instead keeping your face trained on the floor.

Jonathan stands, moving to greet Eddie as he’s the only one who hasn’t yet. “What’s up, man? You back for good?” he asks.

“Yeah. Yeah I think I am,” he says. “It’s good to see you.” You know everyone’s eyes are on you, including his. You know they’re waiting for you to say something. Your silence is ear-splitting, and it feels like a bomb is about to go off.

Everyone moves to surround Eddie, except you, but you can’t blame them. They ask him for all of the details about Chicago, his reasons for moving back, anything and everything. You catch him looking around their faces, trying to get you to look at him, but you avoid his eyes every time. You thought this was what you wanted. You thought seeing him would fix everything.

But it didn’t.

If anything, your heart feels even more shattered. He thinks he can just come home, show up at this party without warning and you’re just going to fall into his arms? Confess your love for him? Act like nothing has happened?

He’s too nonchalant, the way he talks to the group. The way he sits casually on Steve’s sofa, the way he grabs cookies and a drink to indulge in.

A part of you wants to be upset with your friends for hiding this from you, for giving you no warning, but the other part of you knows they were just trying to make you happy. This was supposed to make you happy. You’re unhappy without Eddie, and now he’s here and you’re still unhappy. What is wrong with you?

It’s too much, your head feeling like it’s going to cave in as you listen to the chatter around you. Eddie’s voice is grating in your ears, and you can’t bear to look at his face — you know you’ll just burst into tears. He’s in the middle of telling a story about his attempts to land a recording gig when you stand from your seat, stopping him mid-sentence.

Without a word, you walk quickly to Steve’s back door, letting yourself out to the backyard. You can hear Jonathan call after you, but you don’t want to be bothered. The cold air hits you harder without your coat on, and you wrap your arms around yourself to keep as warm as possible. Steve’s covered pool is coated with a layer of ice and snow, and the lights from inside make the snow sparkle. Inhaling deeply, the icy air burns your lungs, but at least you’re feeling something definite. Your emotions are all over the place, none of them clear or easy to work through.

Maybe you should just go home. Just slink off to your car and go, because you certainly can’t be here with him. As if on cue, sent by some fucked up force in the universe that loves to put you through the wringer, the door slides open.

You hear shoes crunch on the snowy ground, bulky steps that can only come from heavy boots. A deep breath is taken but it’s not enough, you feel like you can’t get any air when he’s taking it all from you. Standing still, you stare straight ahead, your back facing who you know is right behind you. You can’t bear to turn around, to be the one to face him first.

“Sunny,” is all he says. His voice is soft, but it raises every hair on your neck. You’re back to a year ago, to that horrible place he took you to and locked you away in.

You steel yourself, preparing for the floor to fall out beneath you and trying your damndest to be ready for it.

“Please, look at me.”

Turning, slowly, your eyes lock with his. He looks the same as he did the last time you saw him, except now his face fills your mouth with a sour taste. You don’t like this feeling.

“I missed you,” he says, quietly.

His hands are tucked in the front pocket of his jeans, his face barely visible in the dark. He looks at you almost expectantly, like you’re supposed to do something here. Like this isn’t insane.

“I can’t do this, Eddie,” you say, barely above a whisper. Your voice is failing you.

He hears you anyway, his ears so attuned to anything and everything you have to say. You don’t look the same, the usual fire behind your eyes is gone. It worries him.

“Please, just… I came back for you. I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”

“Please don’t. Don’t do that, Eddie,” you warn, tears burning at your eyes.

“Do what? Be honest with you? I’m sorry Sunny. I’m so sorry. But it’s the truth. I’ve never stopped missing you,” he presses. His tone isn’t harsh, but passionate. You know he’s being honest, and it makes you want to throw up.

“So, what? You’re just going to walk in here and act like everything is normal? Like this isn’t fucking weird?” you ask, getting progressively louder as you go. He’s standing not even a foot away, silent. What can he say?

“You’ve been gone for a year, Eddie. You left me, you barely gave me a warning!” you hiss, stepping further away from him. Retreating into yourself, protecting yourself.

He takes a step toward you, chancing it. Reaching a hand out as if to grab you and comfort you. You don’t let him, slinking out of his touch.

“Sunny, please. Can we talk about this?” he asks, his voice desperate as he pleads with you.

“You didn’t want to talk it over when you made the decision to leave,” you spit. “So maybe I don’t want to talk things over now. I’m sorry you thought I’d just fall right into your arms again, but it’s not happening, Eddie. This? Whatever it is we had? It’s done, it’s gone. You can thank yourself.” You brush past him, slamming the door shut behind you once you’ve entered the house again. Anger and hurt blaze through your veins in a deadly concoction, your vision blurry with the hot tears that sting in your eyes.

Eddie follows after you, hot on your trail, emotion-strained voice calling out from behind. “Sunny. Sunny!”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a response, simply putting your coat on and grabbing your purse. “I’m leaving. I’m sorry, everyone,” you say curtly, and then you’re heading towards the front door, stepping outside into the cold night with nothing more than the slam of the wood.

Eddie stands in the living room, forlorn as everyone just looks around, unsure of what to do. Of all the ways this reunion could have gone, they certainly didn’t expect this. They thought it would make you happy, not make everything worse.

“I have to go get her—” he starts, frantic as he pats down his pockets for his car keys.

“Eddie, I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Robin says warily, standing from her seat on the couch.

“I let her go once!” Eddie yells, a painful twinge to his tone. “I can’t let it happen again.”

He looks like a kicked puppy, scared where he stands in the middle of Steve’s home. The looks everyone gives him are pitying, and it makes him scoff as he starts to pace, running his hands through his hair.

“You need to give her space, man,” Jonathan adds, trying to calm him down. “If you bombard her right now, it’ll only make her more upset.”

Eddie looks at him, saying nothing. His eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill but he doesn’t want to let them. The impulsive part of him wants to tell Jonathan to fuck off — he used to know you like that. He used to be the person that knew everything about you, and now Jonathan has taken his place. Even if only platonically. He bites his tongue, reminding himself of the unfortunate truth that it’s his own fault you aren’t close anymore.

“I— I just need some air,” Eddie settles on, turning around and going back out to the backyard.

He isn’t out there for long before he hears someone else join him. Turning, he’s a little surprised to see Jonathan. He’d expected Steve, maybe Dustin.

“Hey,” Eddie says, his hands in his pockets as he stares out across the yard.

“Hey,” Jonathan replies, taking slow steps closer to him. “Listen, Eddie,” he starts after a pause. “You put her through a lot this last year,” he says. Eddie can tell by his tone he’s not trying to be unkind or sour, but it still hurts. It’s hard to admit that he was so incredibly wrong, and that his actions are having major consequences. He never wanted to hurt you this badly. Everything had spun out of control, and he’s to blame.

“I know, man. I know,” he replies. “I’m sorry about it.”

Jonathan just looks at him, watching him carefully. There’s a brief silence, before Eddie takes a deep breath and a little leap of faith.

“Can you talk to her for me?”

He looks at the man beside him, breath hitched in his throat, nervous.

“Eddie—”

“Please, man. She… she trusts you. In a way that she doesn’t trust me anymore. And I know that that’s my fault, but…” he takes a shaky breath, furiously swiping at his wet eyes with his thumb. “I want to earn her trust back. I want her back.”

Jonathan thinks this over, running his tongue over his teeth behind his top lip as if collecting the taste Eddie’s words leave in his mouth. Meeting Eddie’s eyes, his gaze softens when he sees the pain sitting on his face.

“Okay. I’ll try to talk to her,” Jonathan says finally, and Eddie lets out a relieved breath. “But. I’m not promising anything. If she wants to cut ties with you, that’s her business, and I can’t force her to do anything. You screwed up last year, Ed. I’m not trying to rub salt in your wounds, I just need you to understand why this is so hard for her.”

Eddie almost wants to laugh. Jonathan has a way of saying harsh things — of giving you the truth — yet not making you feel like complete shit while he does it. Eddie knows that he cares, he just cares on a level that not everyone does.

“I know. Trust me, I know that,” he sighs, blowing out a puff of air as he looks up to the dark sky. “I know you can’t force her, and I don’t want that. I just… I want her to know how sorry I am. If nothing else, I want her to know that she’s the most important person I’ve ever met and that I’m a moron for what I did last year.”

Jonathan does laugh at this, and then Eddie starts laughing with him. And it feels good, if even for a fleeting moment.

“I’ll talk to her, okay? I’m glad to have you back, man,” the younger man says, giving Eddie a soft fist to the shoulder. There’s a smile on his face, just enough for Eddie to notice.

He smiles back. Jonathan doesn’t need words to hear the ‘thank you’ that lies behind it.

•

You don’t feel any better after your outburst towards Eddie. You wanted to be with your friends tonight, not sitting alone at your apartment. But you’d left on impulse and now… here you are. Sitting alone on your floor because it felt right to sit on the floor and now you’re spiraling.

You don’t know what to think, or what to feel. You’d been sad for months over Eddie’s absence and now he’s here and you go and have a meltdown. Frustration boils inside of you, your heart twisting in your chest. Being angry at Eddie doesn’t feel any better than missing him had, it’s not like being mad allows you to just forget him.

Before you can think yourself into oblivion, your phone rings. Groaning, you stand to retrieve it. Your heart pounds in your chest — what if it’s him?

Steadying your breathing, you let it ring a few times before you convince yourself to answer.

“Hello?” you mumble, not quite ready to find out whose voice will come out on the other end.

“Sunny. It’s me,” Jonathan’s voice comes through the receiver, relaxing every muscle in your body. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Honestly, Jon? I have no fucking idea,” you say, with a slight laugh at the end. There’s no humor in it, though, you simply feel like you’re going mad.

“Can I come over?”

“Jonathan, no, stay at the party—”

“Sunny. Can I come over?” he tries again, not wanting you to put him first in this situation. He wants to be there for you.

“Okay. Yeah, fine. Door’s unlocked, just come in when you get here.”

Clicking the phone back into its place, you pace the floor slightly, chewing your nail.

Did Eddie really come back for you? Is this all for you?

Your heart aches at the thought of it. You just don’t understand how he expected everything to be just fine the second you saw him, and all you can picture in your mind is the look on his stupid fucking face the second you opened Steve’s door.

He looked at you like you hung the moon. He looked at you like you were everything.

You think about last year, you think about the kiss. The way his lips felt so soft against yours, like they were made to be there. You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, rubbing at them with a frustrated sigh. Taking a seat on the couch, you await Jonathan’s arrival.

The door opens quietly before his figure slips through the gap, his cheeks rosy from the cold. You’re curled in one corner of the sofa, and you must look pitiful because his eyes soften the second they land on you.

“Sunny…” he says, hanging his coat on your coat rack before instantly coming to sit by you.

“What the fuck is happening, Jonathan?” you croak, moving to lean against him. “I thought this was what I wanted. I wanted him to come home I… I still miss him…”

“I think he just surprised you. You’re feeling a lot of things at once, and that’s okay. Every single emotion is valid,” he says softly, rubbing your back with a gentle hand.

“I’m just so mad that he walked in like it was nothing. He sat down and talked with everyone like there wasn’t a giant elephant in the room to address,” you say, that anger still lingering in your voice. “But I’m not proud that I walked out on him. I didn’t let him talk, or anything. I told him we’re done,” you sniff, letting tears drip down your face. “I don’t know if I really meant that.”

“Do you think he’s just gonna give up on you? I promise you he’s not, Sunny. He was ready to chase after you the second you left.”

You think this over, a pang in your heart making you cry more. A small part of you wanted him to chase you, although you wouldn’t admit it in your anger.

“He’s really sorry, Sunny,” Jonathan sighs, squeezing you closer to him. “I’ve never seen him this beat up over anything. He’s devastated. You have a right to be devastated, too. I just want you to know that he knows he screwed up.”

“Did he tell you to tell me this?”

Jonathan pauses, takes a breath. “He asked if I would talk to you, yeah. But I had every intention of coming over here, anyway. I think you need someone to talk it out with, that isn’t him.”

“Is that all he said?”

“He said he’s a moron for what he did,” Jonathan adds, smiling when he gets a watery laugh from you.

“He is a fucking moron,” you admit, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“And he said that you’re the most important person he’s ever met. There’s no doubt in my mind that he means that. He really adores you, Sunny.”

“I feel the same about him,” you say, lip wobbling. It’s true. You’ve never met anyone else who’s impacted you quite the same as he has. He’s everything. That’s why this is all so earth-shattering.

“So what are you gonna do?” Jonathan asks, waiting a beat. “You don’t have to decide now. I’m not here to change your mind or tell you how to feel. You don’t have to talk to him anymore if you really don’t want to. But I saw how happy you were with him last year, Sunny. I want you to be that happy again.”

“I need to think things over,” you say meekly, letting out a sigh. “Can we just watch a movie?” you ask, looking up at your friend.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “We can watch a movie. Give yourself all the time you need to think.”

Present Day: Christmas Day, 1989.

The night had been a restless one. Tossing and turning beneath your heavy comforter, your mind racing with a million thoughts. A million things you want to say, a million things you should say, to him. He hurt you, and he can’t take that back, but you didn’t even hear a single thing he had to say. You didn’t hear him out, and that’s not how you’d typically behave around him. Maybe nothing involving him was “typical” anymore, but you couldn’t sleep restfully knowing you haven’t had a real conversation with him.

All you’d wanted, for 12 months, was for Eddie to be home, to apologize. You realize now that your anger has eased that you need to talk to him. Nothing will improve if you don’t speak to him. You know for a fact it would eat you alive every day if he was home in Hawkins, seeing your friends, and you had to avoid him. You have things you need to get off your chest, stuff you want to say, and as you laid awake blinking into the darkness, you’d decided you needed to go and see him.

Christmas morning arrives too bright and too early, your body curled beneath blankets as you rub your eyes and yawn. It feels like you fell asleep for maybe an hour or two, your mind still racing with thoughts that seemed to never stop. Immediately, you’re throwing the covers off and getting out of bed.

There’s still time to fix things. There’s still time to talk to him, to have a good Christmas. You deserve a good Christmas.

The shower water pours hot out of the faucet, steam filling your bathroom as you undress. You let the water coat your skin, making you feel more awake as you shampoo your hair and scrub your body. You feel like you can’t move fast enough, anxiety swirling in your stomach coupled with your eager need to see Eddie.

You get ready in record timing, hair done and outfit donned, teeth brushed and everything else in between. You bundle up for the weather, as one look out your window told you it was definitely a cold one, a hefty layer of snow coating the ground. You can feel yourself tremble as you get in your car and start it, nausea creeping back in as you worry the whole drive to Eddie’s.

Your boots crunch on the snow-covered dirt, your hand pushing your car door shut with a reluctant creak. It’s been so long since you’ve been here, at the trailer park, standing in front of this very trailer. It looks the same as you remember it, though it looks like Wayne got a new wreath for the door.

It’s early, god you know it’s so early, and you only hope you won’t be disturbing the sleep of the two men who inhabit the home. But this is important, you think to yourself. You have to do this.

Taking a deep breath, your hand trembles before you bring it to the door in a repetitive pattern, knocking firmly. There’s no answer for a moment, and you worry that maybe coming out here was a mistake. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you, after all. Maybe Jonathan was wrong, and you’d pissed him off, and he’s done with you.

Maybe it’s too late.

You’re about to resign, to get back in your car, when you hear footsteps on the inside of the door. It swings open in front of you, revealing Eddie’s sleepy face and his sleep-tousled hair.

“Sunny?” he asks, rubbing one eye with his hand. He reaches off to the side, yanking on a coat before coming to stand outside with you.

“Sorry, uh… Wayne’s still asleep otherwise I’d—”

“I miss you, Eddie,” you cut him off, making his eyes widen for a split second. “And I’m so fucking mad at you, but it turns out being mad at you doesn’t make me miss you any less.”

He blinks, looking down at you but not speaking, as if he’s too scared to say anything at all.

“You really fucked me up leaving last year, you know that?” you ask with an icy laugh, looking off to the side. “I missed you every single day you were gone. All I wanted this whole time was you. And now you’re here, and— and, you think you can just show up and everything will be fine. Everything’s not fine,” you ramble, voice cracking at the end of your speech.

You’d tried to ward off any tears, but they’re running warm down your cold cheeks before you can stop them. You wipe furiously at them with your fingers, trying to hide your emotions from the man in front of you. You hadn’t planned on getting this emotional, but then you suppose you can’t really fully plan for a conversation like this.

“Nothing— is fine, Eddie,” you croak. “I missed you so much,” you start to cry harder, collapsing against him as he readily accepts you into a sort of hug as you let it all pour out of you. He holds you against his chest, and how you missed being pressed close to him like this. Your chest aches with every single second of those 12 months without him that you can’t get back. “How could you do that to me?” you ask him, fist clutching the fabric of his coat, not wanting to let him go.

He squeezes you so tight, he doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t expect you to come here, especially not so soon.

“I’m so sorry, Sunny,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry. I’m the dumbest man alive for leaving you. I really am.”

“At least you know that,” you sniff, the tiniest laugh rumbling in your chest amidst your tears; reminding you of what Jonathan had told you the night before. That he’s a moron.

“I’ll let you tell me that every day for the rest of my life,” he says, brave enough to crack the smallest smile. “Just please don’t give up on me.” Gripping your shoulders, he coaxes you just far enough away so he can really look at you. “All I want is you, Sunny. Chicago… didn’t change my life. Not in the slightest. I thought I needed to get out of here but… I couldn’t have been more wrong. And I’m so sorry you had to be caught up in my dumb mistake,” he says earnestly. “It was never a problem with you. My feelings for you were always real. Are still real.”

You’re silent, taking a couple breaths before you speak. “I’m sorry Chicago didn’t work out. But the selfish part of me was hoping it wouldn’t…” you confess, looking down at your shoes.

“It’s okay. I learned my lesson, that’s for sure,” he scoffs a little, his expression downtrodden.

“This year was so hard, Eddie,” you tell him. “Nothing has been the same without you.” The pain in your voice feels like he’s been stabbed in the heart, and he so horribly wishes he could take everything back. But he can’t. All he can do is be better for you, now.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, his big chocolate eyes so apologetic. You missed his pet names, missed the way sweetheart rolls off of his tongue specially for you. “Please tell me you didn’t mean what you said… when you said that we’re done.”

He doesn’t look at you as he says that last part, not the entire time at least. His eyes dance nervously around, his voice wavering with anxiety. It makes tears spring to your eyes again, the thought of going on without him. Of spending every day for the rest of your life without him.

“I can’t do this without you, Eddie,” you say. “But you have to promise me you’re never going to pull something like that again. You’re never leaving again, unless it’s with me,” you steel yourself, not letting yourself get too emotional until he can make this promise. Until he can prove himself.

“Never. Never, I swear. I don’t want to be anywhere you aren’t,” he breathes, moving closer to you. “Please let me make it all up to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life being the best I can be for you.”

His hands cup your face, warm against your frosty cheeks. He wipes a stray tear from your face with a gentle thumb, smiling so softly when you lean into his touch. All at once it hits you, your overwhelming affection for him that you’d had to shove down all year. It gnaws at your chest, clawing its way out of you triumphantly. He’s still the same man you knew then. He’s still the only person you want first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

“Eddie…” you sigh, letting your eyes flutter closed, your hands holding his forearms.

You can feel how close his face is to yours, his nose nearly ghosting over your own and his breath warming your skin. The broken pieces of you are being glued back together one by one the longer he stands holding you.

“I’ve thought about that kiss every single day for the last year, you know that?” he says softly, your eyes opening once more to look up at him.

“Me too,” you breathe. “I’d started to think that maybe it was a mistake,” you admit sadly, watching the way his expression changes. “But it was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

Both of you go quiet, eyes saying so much without words as you look at each other. He’s so close, his face right against yours as you stand in the freezing cold morning. He starts to shift even closer, and you feel like his lips are about to close the distance to yours when the trailer door swings open.

“Is that my little lady?” Wayne’s gruff voice calls out.

You and Eddie break apart abruptly, Eddie rather reluctantly letting you go as your head swings to look at his uncle.

“Wayne!” you beam, moving instantly to accept his hug. You glance back at Eddie, heart thumping in your chest as you watch him watching you.

This is how it should be. This is how you always want it to be.

“Get in here and out of the cold. I missed you, you know that?” the older man says to you, pulling you inside.

You have a lot of catching up to do. That second kiss will have to wait.

After a mug of hot cocoa and a lot of reminiscing with Wayne and Eddie, you find yourself alone with Eddie in his room. There’s a tiny bit of awkwardness in the atmosphere, both of you getting your footing together after so much time apart. It almost feels wrong to be in his bedroom, but then you remember you spent nearly every day here not so long ago.

“I’m sorry it’s a mess,” he smiles weakly. “Unpacking hasn’t exactly been my top priority.”

“Don’t apologize,” you insist, standing in the doorway as he kicks his messy suitcase to a corner of the room. “Was it ever clean before you moved?” you tease, more and more of that weight being lifted off your shoulders with each lighthearted comment, each joke and laugh and smile given and received.

“Sometimes!” he defends, immediately relenting. “Okay, no, it’s always a mess.”

“I really need to get going, Eddie. I need to see my parents at least for a little bit today,” you tell him, glancing at the clock.

“Will I see you back at Steve’s later?” he asks.

“I was hoping I could hitch a ride with you,” you say shyly.

He beams, pearly white teeth shining at you. He could light the entire city with that smile.

“Of course you can. I’ll pick you up, say around six?”

“Six is perfect,” you smile, moving toward him to give his arm a squeeze. “I really fucking missed you.”

He exhales, taking both of your hands in his. “I missed you more than I can even say. I hope you believe me. If I could take this whole year back, start over, I would.”

You don’t reply, just nod at him with empathetic eyes. You know he means it. You do believe him.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” he says. “Be safe getting to your parents, alright?”

You nod again, smiling at him before you put your coat back on, saying goodbye to Wayne and walking out into the cold.

•

Opening gifts with your parents was a good reprieve from the emotional whirlwind of a morning that you’d had, simply sharing in their joy and having lighthearted conversation. It felt good to feel good, that was for certain.

To have a happy Christmas, a happy day, finally. There was still much to be discussed with Eddie, but you felt at ease now that you’d finally poured your heart out to him. You can’t really stay angry with him, because your heart knows he never meant to cause you so much pain.

Six o’clock rolls around surprisingly quickly, a knock sounding at your door as you give yourself a once over in your mirror. Smoothing down your velvet skirt for a final time, you turn to leave your room. As you’re about to flip off the light, though, your jewelry box catches your eye.

You walk over to your dresser where it sits on the top, opening the lid. Eddie’s necklace sits with its broken chain on top of the other miscellaneous jewelry, the initialed pendant gleaming right at you. There’s another knock on your door, and you hurriedly rummage through the clutter to find a spare chain, one that hadn’t been ripped in half.

You let the pendant fall from the old chain, slipping it onto the new one as you walk quickly to the door.

Swinging it open, Eddie’s sweet face greets you on the other side. The things you would’ve given to see him greeting you all those torturous months when he was gone. And now he’s here. He looks gorgeous; wearing what might be his only pair of black jeans that aren’t ripped, along with a deep green flannel that slightly pokes out beneath a dark gray sweater. You want to devour him, you realize. But that will have to wait — the time will come eventually.

“Oh, thank god. I was starting to think you weren’t gonna answer,” he jokes, playing off the comment with a slight laugh. You can see in his face that a small part of him really was concerned you’d bail.

“Sorry, I was looking for something,” you say, stepping aside to let him in.

“Oh? Did you find whatever it was?”

“Mhm. Would you mind putting it on me?” you ask, holding out the necklace to him.

He looks at it, his eyes softening when he recognizes the pendant.

“You still have this,” he muses, surprise evident in his tone. Like he thought you’d get rid of it. You truthfully never could have.

“It’s important to me,” you tell him, glancing up at him through your lashes. “I… broke the original chain. One night when I took it off. I-I’m not proud of it and I’m sorry. Because this gift is so important to me. It was the only piece I had of you,” you admit, pouring your truth and your heart into his open hands.

“Sunny, you don’t have to apologize. You still have it, I’m so glad you do.”

He smiles, a warm and wonderful thing, before he motions for you to turn around. He drapes the pendant over your head, letting it rest on your chest while he fidgets with the clasp at the back. You nearly want to cry as he puts it on you; you didn’t get the chance for him to do this when he’d gifted it to you. You’d put it on alone, in painful tears, wishing it would bring him back.

“Okay, I think it’s good,” Eddie murmurs, his gaze soft when you turn back around to face him.

“What do you think?” you ask, biting on your lip.

“It’s a beautiful necklace for an even more beautiful person,” he says, calm and collected, his words steady and meaningful. “I’m just sorry it took me this long to see you wearing it.”

You feel your cheeks flush, smiling as you pull your coat on and grab hold of the bottle of wine you’d bought to bring to Steve’s.

“Ready?” you ask, shy beneath the way he stares at you; like he never wants to look at anything but you.

“You know it,” he says, jingling his car keys before opening the door for you.

Your foot taps nervously on the floor of the car the whole ride to Steve’s home, butterflies twirling in your stomach at the thought of your arrival with Eddie. After your outburst yesterday, you were admittedly a little embarrassed, and now to show up with the man you’d just walked out on… well, what a roller coaster. Tension hangs thick between the two of you, the mutual acknowledgment of what maybe almost happened earlier before Wayne had interrupted blinking like a neon sign. He had definitely almost kissed you, and the thought makes your stomach swirl.

Neither of you really talk much, not knowing what to say. Sitting in silence and enjoying the company of the other feels like enough, for now. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you look at the pretty decorated houses that you pass, heart soaring with the knowledge that you have Eddie back, and with it comes the holiday cheer you’d been missing.

Before long the clunky van is pulling into Steve’s driveway, parking behind Nancy’s car. Eddie kills the engine, telling you to stay put so he can jog around to your side and get the door for you. He extends a hand, helping you down into the slippery concrete as you clutch the wine bottle tight in your other hand.

“Why thank you,” you giggle, not missing the way his cheeks grow pink.

“Anything for you, m’lady,” he salutes, reaching in behind you to grab your purse for you.

You take a deep breath as you start to walk up to the front door, arm tangled with Eddie’s so you don’t slip and in the slushy mess. You can sense his nerves, too, as he knocks on the door. You glance to the side, smiling at him and watching him return the gesture.

Steve opens the door, wearing reindeer antlers and a red Christmas sweater. He stops in his tracks when he sees both of you, a smug grin spreading on his lips.

“Well, would you look at that?” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I missed seeing you two attached at the hip,” he jokes, stepping aside to let you both in.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, squeezing the other man’s shoulder. What you don’t see is the way Steve gives him a celebratory fist bump, mouthing a silent “yes!”.

Heads turn the second you and Eddie are inside, and you watch as Nancy and Robin beam at the sight. Jonathan gives you both a pointed but subtle thumbs up, and his smile says it all.

“Look at you two!” Robin exclaims, and you unravel your arm from Eddie’s to give her a hug.

“Okay, guys, we’re the spectacle of the evening, we get it,” Eddie laughs, giving her a hug after you.

“I won’t lie, I missed seeing you two arriving places together. You used to basically be conjoined,” Nancy jokes, taking the wine from you. She moves swiftly into the kitchen, getting out a few glasses to pour some. She hands you a glass, along with one for herself and Robin.

“Wait, hey, let me catch up!” Eddie says, grabbing a beer for himself from the fridge.

Steve and Jonathan gather around with their drinks, too, everyone raising their glasses and bottles high.

“Cheers, to Sunny and Eddie,” Nancy says, smiling brightly as everyone clinks their drinks together before taking a sip. Her toast makes you flustered, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

The wine goes down easy, warming your stomach with a pleasant tingle. This is how things should be. The hole in your friend group filled by the person you’d all been missing. The energy in the room is brighter, better. Eddie is needed here, not only by you.

Robin puts on one of Steve’s many Christmas records, letting the music fill the room along with your blended voices chattering happily. You’re talking with the girls, filling them in on what happened since last night. Your eyes keep wandering to wherever Eddie is, noticing him standing in the sun room with Steve. They’re talking about something you can’t hear, looking out the window into the snow covered backyard. You start to walk towards him, telling the girls you’ll be back in a bit, but stop at Jonathan first where he sits on the couch.

“Thank you. For helping me sort through my feelings,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze.

“I hardly did anything. You made this choice yourself,” he says, squeezing your hand right back. “I’m so happy for you, Sunny. It’s good to see you happy.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” you ask him, giving him one last grateful look before walking away.

“Gentlemen,” you say, announcing yourself as you step into the other room with the two men. You hope you aren’t interrupting anything too important, but staying away from Eddie is the last thing you want right now.

“There she is,” Steve says, pulling you into his side. You laugh, reaching a hand up to mess up his hair.

“Hey, hey— watch the antlers!” he defends, slipping out of reach.

“Do you mind if I have a minute alone with him?” you ask Steve, motioning to Eddie with your thumb.

“No, no. Of course not. Behave yourselves,” he winks, slipping out as he takes a sip of his beer.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, moving in on you, wrapping an arm tentatively around your waist. His expression eases up when you relax into his touch, smiling blissfully up at him.

“I just thought we should pick up where we left off earlier…” you say, poking his chest softly with a finger and letting it trail down.

“Oh? And where exactly did we leave off?” he smirks, pressing his body closer to yours.

“I think… that you were about to kiss me again,” you murmur, hooded eyes looking up into his.

“Interesting theory,” Eddie jokes, placing a hand to his chin as if pondering this. You slap him lightly on the arm, giggling like a schoolgirl at him. “You might be right about that, sweetness,” he admits, dropping his face down closer to yours.

Your noses brush, the smell of his cologne and shampoo overwhelming your senses. He still uses the same stuff he did a year ago, turns out.

Your eyes focus in on his soft lips, the way his tongue darts out to wet them slightly. And then you let your eyelids flutter closed, feeling his other arm wrap around you, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips press to yours, so soft and hesitant at first, before gaining more confidence. You hold the back of his neck with one hand, fingers tangling in his curls, taking in his warmth and softness. Your mouths move together perfectly, two pieces of a puzzle finally brought together. The same fireworks you felt that first time go off again, yet this time they somehow feel even brighter. You’d waited so long for this, wondered if you would ever get this, and now it’s happening.

His tongue prods gently into your mouth, ever so slightly dancing around yours. His lips are so plush and gentle, and he smiles into the kiss with a soft little laugh. Pulling away, he rests his forehead to yours.

“You can tell me I’m crazy for this if you want to, okay? If it’s too soon, I get it. But I have to know if you’ll be mine,” he says, eyes darting back and forth between each of your own.

“Eddie,” you breathe, smiling wider than you have all night. “I’m all yours. I’ll be yours forever,” you promise, wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling him into one more passionate kiss.

“Okay, lovebirds!” Robin calls from the living room. You both turn your heads to see everyone watching you, and your cheeks flush.

“Didn’t know we had an audience,” Eddie says softly, only for you to hear, making you laugh again.

“Are you guys coming out to make a snowman with us, or what?” Steve asks, hands on his hips as he waits.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be right there!” Eddie calls back. “We’re just making up for lost time,” he adds, winking at you before planting a wet, sloppy kiss to your cheek.

You feel whole in this moment, with Eddie’s arm around your waist. What you thought would be a horrible Christmas turned out to be the brightest one, and having Eddie home is the best gift you could’ve asked for; even if it was a rocky start. He’s yours, and you’re his. This is the way it should always be, you’re undoubtedly certain of that now.

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” he says. “Forever starts right now.”

taglist: @hellfirenacht @writethrough @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @likedovesinthewnd @tlclick73 @mrsjellymunson @idkitsem @svbrbnlegends @eddiesxangel @munsonzgf @hereforshmut @eggo-segual @joannamuns9n @lavendermunson @leenameh @micheledawn1975

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [19] - Peach Blossoms

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Affection can be difficult to put into words.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex, mentions of violence, slow burn.

Word Count: 5100

Series Masterlist

You still hadn’t quite gotten used to your new home. Especially at night it was very hard to actually tell where you were but after a couple of minutes and occasional stumbles in the dark, you had finally reached the completely empty kitchen. Finding the ingredients that you wanted was another challenge you hadn’t considered, yet after snooping around and opening quite literally every cabinet, you managed to find them and get to work.

The middle of the night was not the ideal time to bake cookies but it was the better alternative to tossing and turning in the bed.

You added the flour into the huge bowl before mixing it with the eggs and sugar, humming a song to yourself. Teddy was going to be so happy tomorrow when you took these to him, you were sure of it and considering tomorrow -well, technically today- you would meet him and Josie, Bess and Andrew for a picnic, you wouldn’t have to wait so long.

“What are you doing?”

You jolted in your spot and looked over your shoulder to see Benedict staring at you as if he was questioning whether you were indeed there or not.

“Baking,” you said, holding up the bowl. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Yeah I—you know we have a staff, right?”

You tilted your head. “Yes?” you said. “I see them every day.”

“So you could’ve just asked them to do it instead of coming down here in the middle of the night?”

“No I don’t mind,” you said. “I’m making these for Teddy and he likes it better when I bake them, not anyone else.”

Benedict pulled his brows together, still staring at you.

“How do you know how to make anything?”

“Huh?”

“I mean—” he motioned at you. “This is a kitchen.”

“Yes?”

“How do you know how to make something in a kitchen?”

You blinked a couple of times before a laughter spilled from your lips. “Are you serious?”

“Daphne doesn’t even know how to start heat on stove.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” you muttered. “Dear God, that’s how you all grew up then? You just snapped your fingers and people made things for you, always?”

He looked like he had no idea how to answer that and you repressed a smile at the confusion etched in his handsome features, then put the butter into the mix and held out the bowl.

“Here, take this.”

“What?”

“If you’re going to stay here you may as well make yourself useful,” you said. “I’ll give you some of the cookies as a thank you.”

He eyed the bowl as if it could come alive and attack him anytime. “I don’t know how to do it.”

“You mix paints, don’t you?” you asked. “It’s just a larger, that is all.”

He carefully took the bowl from you and looked inside, then dipped his head a little to smell it, then lifted his head again to look at you.

“Wait, it smells good even before the oven?”

You stifled a laugh and nodded. “Mm hm.”

“And I just mix it?”

“Yeah, while I chop the chocolate,” you said as you grabbed the knife and put the block of chocolate on the cutting wood. He leaned back, trailing the spoon in the bowl and keeping his gaze on you as you started chopping chocolate.

“Nightmares again?” he asked softly and you clicked your tongue, your whole focus is on the chocolate as you shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s not important.”

“It is though,” he said, “I told you, you can always come to—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off. “I can handle it.”

“But you don’t have to,” Benedict said. “Not alone at least.”

Your hand froze for a moment as that burning reached your eyes but you quickly blinked back the tears, returning to what you were doing again. A silence fell upon the kitchen before he cleared his throat.

“So, did your mother teach you how to bake?”

You scoffed. “My mother didn’t teach me anything except—”

How to dodge a slap.

“Um, Josie taught me,” you said. “My mother wasn’t exactly…she didn’t like us to be around her in the kitchen.”

Or anywhere really.

“And we didn’t have any maids or a cook or anything,” you said and threw him a look over your shoulder. “Which by the way, if you are changing your mind because of my financial situation growing up, it’s kind of too late. We’re already married.”

He let out an incredulous chuckle. “Right, because that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“Obviously,” you said with a grin and motioned at him to bring you the bowl. He did as you asked and you took it from him to place it on the counter, then put the chocolate pieces into it to start mixing it.

“So what was it like?” he asked, leaning back to the side counter and you raised your brows.

“Growing up poor you mean?”

He took a deep breath, as if trying to decide whether he was supposed to answer that or not.

“Growing up…knowing how to bake?” he tried and you scoffed a laughter.

“You can say it, it’s alright,” you said as you stopped mixing the dough before putting the bowl aside. You grabbed a small portion of the dough and started rolling it in your hands.

“The ones Josie used to make me were a bit different,” you said. “Smaller in portion and no chocolate, of course. Too expensive.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Don’t be,” you said and put the small portion of dough on the baking tray, then got some in your hand again to roll it. “Are you going to help me, or…?”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s not that hard, I assure you.”

He came closer to you and took a look at what you were doing, then reached into the bowl to take some of the dough into his hand as well.

“Very well then,” he said. “This is interesting.”

“You’ve never done this before huh?”

“Ever,” he said, shaking his head before putting the small piece of the tray. “How was it? Growing up like that?”

You thought for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“You…you get used to not having things,” you said. “Especially if you’re born into it. But it doesn’t—just because you get used to it doesn’t mean it’s easy. Adaptability doesn’t lead to happiness, no matter what all those novels tell you. It wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

“Nor safe?” he asked and you raised your head from the tray to look at him, furrowing your brows in confusion. He shot you a hesitant smile.

“The knife was a clue.”

“Oh,” you said and let out a small laugh. “It’s just a precaution. One can never be too careful, Josie says.”

“She’s right I suppose,” he murmured and you took another piece, then rolled it in your hand and offered it to him.

“Here.”

“What?”

“Eat it.”

Benedict raised his brows. “Alright, I know you’re looking forward to be a widow as soon as possible—”

“Don’t say that!” you protested and he motioned at the cookie dough in your hand.

“But this is no way to poison me, at least show me the curtsy of being subtle.”

“I’m not trying to poison you.”

“You’re offering me raw cookie dough.”

“And it’s delicious.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You said it yourself it smelt good!”

“Soap smells good too but I don’t eat it,” he replied and you shook your head.

“You honestly have never tried raw cookie dough?”

“I’m not falling for this,” he shook his head. “I’m not even a great artist yet, I can’t die now.”

“Benedict.”

“Hm?” he asked, trying to repress a smile and you took a bite of the raw dough, the sweet taste coating your tongue before you swallowed it, then held out the rest to Benedict.

“I know you think this proves something but I watched you chomp down an actual asparagus. Raw.”

“That was a game,” you said. “I’m a highly competitive person—just try it.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh and took the dough from you to take a bite, but then his whole face lit up at the taste, making you laugh.

“See?”

“Are you serious?” he asked you and looked at the tray, “Can we maybe just not put them in the oven and eat them like this instead?”

“We are putting them in the oven,” you said, still smiling. “But hey, this is just yet another situation where I’m right. I hope you’re keeping a record.”

He gave you a grin. “Should I?”

“Obviously,” you said with a smile and grabbed the tray. “Open the oven for me, will you? Before you convince me to eat all these without baking them.”

                                                 *

The picnic next day was quite lovely. You had also met the Bridgertons there and soon enough everyone was scattered along the park. Colin had pulled Benedict aside somewhere else and Anthony kept stealing glances at Charlotte who was playing with Teddy, Gregory, Hyacinth and her own siblings, chasing them around much to their delightful laughter. Josie and Bess were walking around the park while Andrew sat beside you, and reached into the basket to grab a cookie.

“You are an angel.”

“Far from it.”

“A demon with good baking skills,” he corrected himself and you let out a laugh.

“Mm, sounds about right.”

He threw it in the air and caught it with his mouth.

“Jo says you haven’t been gardening lately,” he said while still chewing and you shifted your weight in your spot, then waved a hand in the air.

“I just didn’t get the time.”

He wiggled his brows. “Is your husband really that good in bed.”

“Andrew!”

“What?” he said, chuckling as you slapped his arm. “It’s just a question, don’t look so scandalized.”

“It has nothing to do with Benedict,” you lied through your teeth and he hummed.

“So what exactly are you doing then, to keep you so busy?”

“Things.”

“Please, that lovesick look on your face—”

“Lovesick look?” you exclaimed, “I do not have a lovesick look on my face.”

“You absolutely do, you should see yourself,” he said, making you pull back for a moment, still frowning.

If anything, this just meant you and Benedict were getting better at pretending in front of people, that was it. And it was good news of course, because the more people believed in it, the less they would question it.

“Don’t worry,” Andrew said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “He looks at you just as lovesick.”

You scoffed. “I think you spend too much time around Bess, and you know how she gets.”

“That has nothing to do with—”

“Hold that thought,” you cut him off as soon as your eyes caught the sight of Felix and you raised a hand so that he could see you as well. He immediately smiled brightly and made his way to you.

“Aw he looks quite cute.”

“Does he now?” you suppressed a smirk and turned to Felix when he reached you.

“Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“Felix, I told you to call me Y/N,” you said. “Andrew, this is Felix, a very promising artist. Felix, this is Lord Andrew Walcott, my brother-in-law.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“You as well, Lord Walcott.”

“Get a cookie and sit with us,” you said, holding up the basket and Felix grabbed a cookie, then bit into it as he sat down.

“Wow,” he said. “My compliments to your cook.”

“I made them.”

He blinked a couple of times. “You?”

“Mm hm.”

“Not to worry, it’s not poisoned,” Andrew said and you elbowed him. “So you’re an artist?”

“Y/N is being kind,” Felix said with a shy smile and Andrew raised his brows.

“I’ve literally never seen that happen, so I doubt it.”

“I’m not being kind,” you said. “I think you can do it as long as you want to. That’s not being kind, that’s being realistic.”

Felix averted his eyes down as if he was embarrassed, then glanced up at you again through his thick lashes.

“Yet I cannot paint you?”

“Not me,” you said, shaking your head and Andrew looked between you two.

“What is that about?”

“I wanted to paint her, but she said no,” Felix said and motioned at you. “And I think you and Benedict would make a perfect Aphrodite and Adonis in a painting.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, no. Wait, did you ask Benedict that?”

“Mm hm.”

“And?”

“He said he’s not interested in posing but painting,” he said. “And he reminded me that you already said no.”

“You know people would kill each other over it if we were in Renaissance times?” Andrew asked you. “A promising artist offering to paint you as Aphrodite, that’s how you become immortal.”

Felix snapped his fingers. “I was thinking the same thing!”

“And I’m not interested in being immortal,” you said and saw Colin making his way to you while Benedict ran a hand through his hair, then followed him.

“What is happening?” you asked Colin when he reached you and Benedict sat down next to you.

“Hi Felix. Andrew.”

“Adonis.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Andrew grinned and Colin motioned at you.

“I need your help.”

“About?”

“What we talked of the other day, apparently,” Benedict said. “Colin, just go talk to her, alright?”

You looked through the crowd before your eyes fell on Miss Marina, then you turned to Colin who heaved a sigh.

“I would have if you two didn’t get in my head!” Colin said. “Now I’m wondering whether I should approach her with a—with an intellectual conversation starter.”

Felix tilted his head as Benedict leaned back.

“Isn’t that expecting too much from yourself?”

“Shut it Ben—Y/N, you must help me.”

“On romance?” your voice went high pitched for a moment. “Have you gone insane?”

“Not at all. I need your advice.”

“Why would you come to me,” you started, “me of all people for an advice on romance?”

“Well…”

“You two are in love?” Andrew said helpfully and Colin nodded.

“Exactly. I need a lady’s opinion on how to approach the issue at hand.”

“Why is this happening?” you asked to no one in particular. “Is it because I smile too much?”

Colin tilted his head. “Oh, you can smile?”

“Am I not smiling right now?” you deadpanned with a completely straight face and Benedict repressed a laugh.

“Go ask Daph to help you.”

“Daphne is busy with her suitor, and you know Eloise would never help.”

“Go ask Penelope then, you two are friends.”

“I don’t think—perhaps you should go speak to her beforehand,” Colin told you and you made a face.

“What on earth am I supposed to do Colin, just walk over there and yell ‘Ta daa!’ when you start walking to us?”

Andrew bit down a smile while Felix grabbed another cookie.

“Just approach her,” you said. “She obviously likes you enough to have multiple conversations with you.”

“That’s a terrible advice,” Colin made a face. “Give me another one,”

You threw your head back and ran a hand over your face.

“Alright, here’s what you should do,” you said. “Listen to me carefully.”

“Alright.”

“Just focus on what you feel for her, like really think about it,” you said. “Then take a deep breath, and go to the nearest church—”

“Church?” Benedict and Andrew asked at the same time and you nodded.

“Yes, go to a church, sneak downstairs; that’s where they keep the wine, drink as much of it as you can, then go home and sleep.”

Benedict held back a chuckle. “Why do I feel like you speak from experience?”

“Josie and I did that once,” you said and turned to Colin who heaved a sigh.

“Let’s not get distracted here.”

“Colin, approaching a lady who likes you should not be that hard.”

“But we don’t know if she likes me,” he insisted. “Benedict was certain you didn’t like him and look at you two, married now. Looks can be deceiving.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you swallowed thickly, then cleared your throat.

“Is she trying to get away from you while you make a conversation, or attempts to keep the conversation going?”

“Attempts to keep it going.”

“Congratulations, she likes you.”

Benedict pulled his brows together. “You kept trying to get away from me while I made conversation.”

“Yet we’re married now, life is full of miracles.”

“I’ve always known you would get married,” Andrew said and Benedict shot him a look of disbelief.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I just assumed she would become a widow incredibly fast but look at you Benedict, alive and kicking.”

“One can hope, the day is still young,” Colin pointed out and Benedict glared at him.

“Those are some big words coming from a man who cannot even talk to the lady he likes,” he retorted and held up his hand to show him his wedding ring. “I don’t seem to have that problem.”

You let out a laugh and high fived him. “No you don’t.”

“Why thank you darling.”

Colin shook his head as your heart skipped a beat at the term of endearment. “It feels like yesterday you were pacing in the drawing room throwing a fit over what Y/N would think after Whistledown wrote about you and Kitty Morris.”

You repressed the laughter bubbling in your throat and pressed a hand over your chest in an exaggerated manner. “Aw, that’s quite sweet. I hate her by the way.”

“Who’s that?” Felix asked and Benedict shrugged.

“No one important,” he said and turned to Colin, “And it makes perfect sense I was worried because as you can see, my wife hates her.”

“Yes I do.”

“And we’re going home together after this, yet another thing that’s different between you and me, brother.”

“We’re going to the bookshop first,” you added and Benedict nodded.

“We’re going to the bookshop first and then home together,” he corrected himself and Colin rolled his eyes.

“Are you finished?”

“Not even close, you started this,” he said. “And I’m merely sharing my wisdom with you.”

“Your wisdom?” Colin scoffed and Benedict shot him an arrogant grin.

“Marriage makes you wise, everyone knows that.”

You let out a noise of disbelief. “Debatable.”

“No he’s telling the truth,” Andrew said. “The moment you leave the chapel, a wisdom is bestowed upon you. Or in my and Jo’s case, the moment a blacksmith in Gretna Green pronounces you husband and wife.”

You frowned. “This is you being wise?”

“There you go,” Benedict motioned at Andrew and a sadness crossed Felix’s eyes for a moment.

“I heard some say marriage is the death of spirit.”

“Depends on who you marry,” Andrew said. “I married my best friend.”

You and Andrew exchanged glances and you bit down a smile, but of course the literal meaning of his words wasn’t noticed by anyone else.

“And Benedict here married the human equivalent of a razor blade,” Andrew motioned at you and you made a face.

“You two are not wise at all,” you pointed at him and Benedict, and turned to Colin. “Honestly, don’t listen to them. Just go over there, she has been stealing glances at you for a while now.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Colin asked, holding his breath and you nodded.

“Yeah. You’re wasting your time here listening to these two, just go and work your magic.”

“If you have any,” Benedict added and Colin narrowed his eyes at him.

“I like your wife better than I like you,” he said and took a deep breath, then fixed his waistcoat and walked away from you to Miss Marina. You could see the look Penelope stole at him and a sadness flashed over her face, making you raise your brows but before you could even ask anything, Charlotte made her way to you, still breathing hard and her hair a mess from running around.

“Hello everyone!”

“Hi Lottie.”

“We’re going to take the young ones to the play on the other side of the park,” she motioned in the opposite direction, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Do you want to come along?”

“Who’s we?”

“Me and Tony.”

Benedict shrugged his shoulders and opened his mouth but you shook your head.

“No, you go ahead,” you said, making Benedict turn to you.

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” you said and motioned at your maid. “Paula, would you mind keeping an eye on Teddy?”

“Of course my lady.”

“We should be back in half an hour I think!” Charlotte chirped and walked away from you and Benedict tilted his head.

“What was that about?”

You looked between Charlotte who was smiling brightly at Anthony as she told him something in a very excited manner, waving her hands around, unaware of the soft look in his eyes and you turned your gaze to Benedict.

“I’m not in the mood to see a play,” you said and popped a cookie in your mouth, then grinned at Andrew. “So Andrew. Tell us about your adventures in Spain, will you?”

                                             *

After the picnic you had dropped by the bookshop and then gone home with Benedict as planned, but you were so tired that you could barely keep your eyes open during dinner. The hot weather always had a way of making you feel more tired than you were supposed to, and soon after dinner you had excused yourself and gone straight to bed, thinking you would wake up because of the nightmares in the middle of the night anyway.

But for once, nightmares weren’t what woke you up.

It was the fire burning through your veins.

You opened your eyes with a gasp, still feeling Benedict’s lips on your neck and it took you a couple of seconds to realize that it was all a dream. The disappointment that crashed upon you was so sudden that you dug your nails into your palms, trying your hardest to focus.

Yet, you had a feeling it wouldn’t work.

Dreaming of consummating your marriage wasn’t supposed to send such a powerful rush of desire through you, especially considering what you had heard about it but you could still feel his kisses on your lips, his touch on your skin, between your—

No no no.

You were not going to think about that now that you were awake.

You pushed the covers off of you and took a deep breath before getting up from the bed. Your heart was still beating in your ears and you stole a look at the closed door connecting your room to Benedict’s, but then shook your head at yourself.

It wasn’t as if you could just go there and ask to consummate your marriage.

That would be just…inconsiderate of you.

Besides, what was it Benedict had told you? Sometimes the act itself would lead to people falling in love, and you were not going to risk that, no matter how much desire clouded your brain and made you feel lightheaded.

Benedict was attractive, and this was simply a dream that was apparently fueled by that fact.

You dug your palms into your eyes before you lowered your hands, then threw your shoulders back. You desperately needed to get some fresh air and perhaps a walk, so you approached the door and opened it to step outside to the hall, but as soon as you did, you caught the sight of Benedict opening the door to his own room.

“Y/N?”

Oh God damn it.

Seeing him like this, in his night shirt and pants -no doubt having just returned from his studio on the other side of the house- was absolutely not helpful to the situation. The dream flashed before your eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat but you cleared your throat, willing yourself to concentrate.

“Uh…hello.”

His blue eyes searched your face, a frown pulling his brows together.

“Nightmares?”

Quite the opposite.

“Yeah—no,” you said and paused for a moment. “Today was a bit tiring and I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Are you alright? You look breathless.”

“Do I?” your voice came out as a squeak and he stepped closer to you, then pressed a hand over your forehead, making your eyes close for a moment before you bit inside your cheek and looked up at him.

“And you feel hot, is it sun exhaustion again?”

Oh that was just the perfect excuse.

“Yeah!” you said and cleared your throat again. “I mean not exhaustion so to speak but I feel… yeah. It’s because of the heat today, uh huh.”

“Should we send for the doctor?”

Your eyes widened.

“No!” you exclaimed. “God no, I just need some fresh air. That is all.”

“Are you sure? Because the last time it happened—”

“Do you want to come to the garden with me?” you cut him off, the words leaving your lips before you had a chance to stop them and Benedict looked almost surprised.

“I mean if you want to,” you added quickly. “You know, since we ran into each other, what are the odds?”

“…We live in the same house.”

“It’s a big house,” you muttered, feeling your face heat up even more and motioned at the stairs. “I’m just going to go now, you can come with if you want.”

You walked past him in a haste, desperate to do something other than staying here like a babbling fool but you heard Benedict rush after you.

“Wait, I’m coming with.”

“Great, that’s completely your choice,” you flailed your arms and made your way downstairs as he quickly caught up with you and you both passed the foyer and walked out of the front door.

The chill weather was like a soothing remedy to the burning in your cheeks. You looked up at the glimmering stars in the dark sky, then approached one of the many flower beds and sat down on the ground. Benedict sat beside you and you leaned back on your palms, keeping your gaze on the stars, the noises of crickets echoing through the huge garden.

Perhaps you could—

If it were to be anything like the dream you’d just had, perhaps you could just try it. Yes you had heard it from many people consummation was not pleasant at all, but some people seemed to think otherwise.

Including your aunt.

You made a face and shook your head slightly, heaving a deep sigh.

“You can tell me, you know?” Benedict’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned to him.

“Hm?”

“Whatever it is bothering you, you can tell me.”

“Nothing is bothering me,” you said quickly and he raised his brows.

“Really? So you’re awake in the middle of the night because…?”

“Why are you awake in the middle of the night?” you asked back and he motioned at the house.

“I was painting.”

“How is that going?”

“Eh,” Benedict said. “There’s some flaw I can’t quite put my finger on just yet.”

“Is it you being critical or is there an actual flaw?”

“There’s an actual flaw I’m sure,” Benedict said and snapped his fingers. “Reminds me, you said you wanted to see downtown, right?”

You nodded.

“I just got an invitation for a party there towards the end of the week, a friend is throwing it. We could go if you’d like?”

Your jaw dropped. “Really?”

“Do you want to?”

“Of course I do!”

“Alright then,” he said with a chuckle. “It should be fun.”

You took a deep breath, your heart still beating in your ears as your gaze drifted down to his lips, then you turned your head to look at the flower bed in front of you, absentmindedly reaching out to rip a slightly yellow leaf from the stem.

“So I was thinking,” you said, your stomach doing a flip and Benedict hummed.

“About what?”

“Perhaps we, um…” you stammered, turning to him again but as soon as you casted a glance on his handsome face, your heart leaped to your throat, nervousness filling your whole system. You could swear you were getting lightheaded from the sudden rush, how would one even bring marriage consummation up?

Not to mention—

You were sure you wouldn’t fall in love but it could cloud your judgement, Benedict had told you people actually fell in love after the act sometimes. Not only that, but there was also the issue of you obviously not knowing of the act itself as much as you thought before, judging by what you had seen back at that party.

And it was very obvious Benedict had a lot of experience with it, unlike you.

“I was thinking that,” you started but changed your mind in the middle of the sentence. “It would upset me if you died.”

Benedict gawked at you, blinking a couple of times. “I’m sorry?”

Jesus Christ, you were absolutely a babbling fool tonight after that dream.

“Because, you know,” you motioned with your hands, your mind working nonstop to find the right words. “Andrew said something today and it made me think, and being a widow was my original plan as you remember.”

“Mm hm, I remember it very well.”

“But things change and I know you were joking back at the kitchen but I felt like you should know,” you said, stumbling over your words. “Hypothetically speaking, and also objectively speaking of course, if you died it would—” you swallowed thickly. “It would upset me terribly.”

Well, that was the underestimation of the goddamn century.

Even the thought of Benedict not being with you was enough to squeeze at your heart and you bit at your tongue, desperate to get rid of the thoughts of it before motioning at him.

“So yes, make sure not to do that.”

Benedict tilted his head. “Make sure not to die?”

“Was my request not clear?” you asked back, impatience laced in your tone and Benedict bit down a smile.

“It was,” he said, trying to adapt a serious expression. “It absolutely was. I’ll um…I’ll try my best?”

“Much appreciated,” you said, your heart still pacing in your chest, that restlessness making you fidget before you took a deep breath.

“Now that we cleared that out, I’ll try to get some sleep,” you said and jumped on your feet in an attempt to stop your own nonsense. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Y/N, what—?” he started but you had already started walking away from him and you took a deep breath when you reached the front door again.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered at yourself and stepped inside, then made your way upstairs to your room, your cheeks still burning.

Chapter 20

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 3}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: With the overnight patrol behind you, it's now time for your annual leave from the roster altogether. But Joel doesn't know that and you're hesitant to tell him, feeling like it would be the best for you two to get some distance. But as with all things involving the man, it was hard to keep the distance.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, slight angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, two (2} instances of joel miller gently touching reader, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, talk of pregnancy, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, sexual content, masturbation (f and m), yearning, protective joel, tommy is a scheming lil brother and we love him for it, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: i'm not really back in wake of some bad comments and confrontational haters, but love y'all ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

A knock on your door the next morning caught you bundled up and out in the backyard, the sound echoing throughout your empty house. It was small: a simple one with a larger than average kitchen, a living room, one bathroom across the hall from the bedroom, and a laundry / mudroom with a deep utility sink and a few cabinets of storage. It’s where you kept the tools for the garden, where you washed and prepped everything you managed to grow before moving it into the kitchen space. But you were on the modest back porch, a cup of steaming coffee cooling in the early morning air as you looked out at the trees that took up a good chunk of the large area.

Dragging your eyes from the one that looked like it was about at the end of its life, a large crack running down through the trunk, you heeded the knock at the early hour. Knowing it could only be one of four people.

“Was worried I woke you for a moment, you sleep okay?” Maria greeted you as she waddled past you and moved into the kitchen. She spied the other cups worth of contents in the coffee maker and sighed in longing. The scent of it heavy in the air, mixed with cinnamon you were apt to put in with the grounds before brewing. But her sigh turned into a delighted hum as she shifted her attention to the cooling pan atop the stove and moved closer to inspect the baked goods settled on it.

“Probably not much better than you, momma. How you feelin’?” You slid a plate to her as she began to pick pieces off from one of the flaky breakfast hand pies you had made. She placed the one she had begun eating along with another before following you to the large table that ran through the middle of the room. Setting it down and pulling out the chair for her, you helped her to lower into it. With a caressing touch to her swollen belly, permission given from her months ago, you began to set up a kettle for some tea.

“Big.” She stuffed a large bite into her mouth, eyes fluttering at the taste of the filling. Crumbs of the flaky crust sticking to the front of her shirt, jacket having been shrugged off. “Olive, these are fantastic. Is there anything in here I shouldn’t be eating?”

“I wouldn’t have let ya get your hands on it if that were the case. Just bacon and onion jam, eggs, a little bit of milk, and a whole bunch of thyme. Nothing too bad.”

“Nothing too bad, my ass. You should totally make these for the mess hall on your next shift.”

Another knock on the front door stole the words from your mouth and you looked to the woman who all of a sudden had great interest in picking the crumbs from where they had fallen.

“Maria, what is this?”

“Can’t I call on a fellow morning bird without ulterior motives?”

“You could, but you didn’t this time around. I don’t get many visitors so I wonder who you- Oh! Good mor-morning, Joel.” Surprise overtook you as you were suddenly face to face with the man over the threshold of your front door. He was bundled up as well, though his hair was wet, slicked back and shining in the early morning sun peeking over the mountains.

“I just figured we could all chat about the Teton route.” Maria’s voice carried from the kitchen. But it didn’t break the stare you could feel as Joel’s eyes took in the apron you had thrown on earlier.

“Mornin’.” He rumbled, a hand reaching out from within his jacket pocket to swipe at your cheek. His touch burned, but you were frozen in place at such a forward action so early in the day. Lips parting as you tried to pull in a breath but you were sure all you managed to do was huff out what air was already in your lungs. “You got a lil flour or somethin’.”

“O-oh, um, thank you.” His hand lingered, the back of his knuckle dragged down your cheek and then the finger curled around the neckline, tugging slightly. Nerves sparkling as you felt the warmth from his hand so close to your neck, you could only swallow as his eyes finally met yours with a playful grin displaying that damned, endearing dimple normally hidden in his scruff.

“Never seen you so homey before, it’s a good look on you.” His voice was tipped low, just for you and you felt your stomach lurch.  When you didn’t say anything, just continued to stand there caught like a fly in his trap, he chuckled and asked if you were going to let him inside. It was then you realized he had inched closer, crowding you in the doorway, with his hand still around the strap of fabric over your neck.

“Oh! Of cour-course, I’m so sorry. It must be the early hour taking my manners.” But you knew he wouldn’t believe that for a second, he knew you were a morning person. Something you had revealed to him on patrol. Just like he had revealed to you that he took any opportunity to sleep in, apt to hit snooze an embarrassing about of times if the sound even reached him. You had both laughed at the polarizing tendencies, ribbing each other about it throughout the day. It had been a good one, free of the underlying…tension of whatever had shifted when you had pressed your lips to his injuries. Something you would take back if it meant cutting the undercurrent of whatever had befallen your interactions.

“There’s, um, breakfast hand pies and one last serving of coffee,” You spoke as you turned your back on him and went to retrieve your own mug from the porch.

After the shuffle of greetings, of ushering Joel to take a seat at the table. You plated up two of the hand pies and poured the last of the coffee for him, setting it down in front of him with a small smile before fetching the whistling kettle and preparing a cup of tea for Maria who was already a bite into her second pastry.

“Now, the horse you two lost.”

Joel made a surprised sound, mouth biting into one of the pastries on his plate.

“It was my fault.” You rushed out before Joel could even respond around his mouthful. His eyes flicked to you across the table where you had finally taken a seat, watching as you willingly took the blame for the unfortunate event. “I wasn’t quick enough taking down the Infected that were coming at us. Two of them had set their sights on her, with all the noise she was making while another went after Joel on the ground.”

“And there was no use of anything other than the shotgun?”

“That’s correct.”

“Joel, do you agree with her synopsis?”

“Yes. She acted fast, but there was no way Kiana was gonna make it back, she had been freaking out the second they came outta the tree line, most likely would’ve run off.”

“She always was easy to spook, that’s why she was designated as your horse, calmed her down and got her to focus.” It made sense, Joel was a very level headed person, capable of gently focusing someone should their minds or attention wander.

“I wish every incident discussion was this lovely. No arguing, good food, people who don’t want to go around in circles. You two are truly one of the best pairs we have on the roster.” Maria stirred in a bit more honey into her tea, taking a sip as she looked you both over.

A nervous laugh bubbled up from you as you dug into your own pastry, unaware of them sharing a look.

“This is amazing,” Joel offered, reaching for the kitchen towel folded atop the table to clean his hands off. “You should make these your next shift at the mess hall.”

“I just told her that, imagine the buzz they would cause.”

“They’re not all that special.” You muttered, shoulders rising as you felt rather put on the spot.

“This filling, these onions? It had to have taken a lot of concentration to reduce them down so soft but not mushy. Take the credit where it’s due.” Joel hummed his agreement as he reached for his mug.

“You’re off patrol this week and next, to do your annual thing.” Tommy announced as he sat beside you, his tray thudding against the top of the table, laden down with food from this mornings offerings.

“I can still patrol and get what I have to done.” You didn’t look up from the notebook you were writing in, trying to map out the way you were going to turn the harvest of the olive trees in your backyard into. If you were being honest, patrol twice a week wasn’t so bad with the added allure of Joel Miller. But it would be hard to juggle it paired with the time of year. Every autumn you took out your dirtiest, most ratty pair of overalls and got to work picking the fruit from the trees. Taking your time to sort them, wash them, turn them into oil and pickle some of the others. It was just you, hands aching at the end of the day from spending it all at your kitchen table with various tools. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The kitchen was your happy place. Even after the end of the world. Or maybe in spite of it.

But this year, you didn’t want to miss out on patrol, normally taking the two weeks off to sort everything out and give all your attention to the gift of fruiting trees. Even if…you felt like it would be good for you to get some space from the man you felt in every other thought. The past two weeks had yielded quiet patrols, just the passing of a thermos between hands. You were sure you had overstepped a line by pressing your lips to his face, lost in the moment of adrenaline and want after those Infected had tried to turn you both.

His eyes were heavy on you when he thought you weren’t looking, but searching for what you didn’t have the faintest clue. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to bring it up and let you down gently. Tell you that he hadn’t appreciated your affections that way. Whatever went on behind that handsome, rugged face you hadn’t a clue.

“We both know that’s a mighty lie,” He stuffed an overfull spoon of grits into his mouth, humming around it as he pointed the utensil at you. “Didn’t you say this would be the last year for one of them?”

Sighing, you set the pencil you had been writing with down. Trading it for the cup of coffee in front of you.

“Unfortunately, the trunk spilt when we had those winds come through in February. I’m surprised it bloomed any fruit to be honest.”

“It’s a fighter, like it’s caretaker.”

“Oh hush, tryna flatter me.”

“Don’t you know it.” He winked, cheeky smile growing wider underneath his mustache as his eyes caught sight of something over your shoulder. You were about to turn to see what had him so delighted when a pair of hands placed a tray right next to you. The burly form of Joel huffed as he settled into the seat beside you.

“Mornin’.” He greeted, placing plate of toast in front of you, his hand momentarily brushing against yours before he dug into his own food. You felt heat bloom up your neck and across your cheeks as Tommy feigned a cough to cover up a snicker. Joel leveled an unimpressed stare at the man, an eyebrow cocked and a warning in his eyes. You pretended not to see it, busy slathering a piece of the gifted toast with some butter left out on the tables for the breakfast service.

“Good mornin’, brother.” Tommy lilted, face lit up with something you were hesitant of. Scheming, the man was scheming, up to absolutely no good. And you had a hunch it involved not only you but the man beside you. Taking a bite of the toast, you noticed the way his face twitched before he started whatever he was up to. “How are you today?”

“Fuck off, Tommy.” The older man didn’t even look up from his plate, knowing from years of experience that his brother was aiming a mischievous look his way. “I gotta list a mile long of stuff to do this week and next, don’t have time for whatever else you’ve taken on.”

“That’s a shame,” He took another heaping bite, chewing it thoughtfully as he looked between you both, taking in the way neither of you were willing to look at the other. “Sorry, Olive. Looks like you’ve gotta fell that tree on your own.”

“That’s okay. I’m a big girl, did it the year before last and I’ll do it again this time around.” You downed the last two gulps of your coffee. Gathering up your notebook, you shoved out of your chair and stood, preparing to walk away. But he scrambled, quick on his feet and determined. Joel glanced at you, a parting nod the only indication from him.

“Well, seeing as you’ll be off patrol the next two weeks, that should give you enough time to take care of it.”

“Tommy!” You whirled around on your heel, eyes wide. You hadn’t wanted Joel find out this way, from his trouble making little brother with you right beside him.

“What’s he talkin’ about?” Joel turned with a loaded fork halfway to his mouth. Forgotten in wake of the sudden news. He looked taken off guard, shock coloring his features as he looked to you for answers.

“Didn’t she tell you, brother?” Tommy set his own fork down, tray nearly empty now. “Olive always takes this time of year off to tend to the trees. Harvest and make that lovely oil you see everywhere around town.”

“That’s yours?” His eyes danced around the mess hall, taking in the incriminating glass jars atop every other table. The light green contents revealing the literal fruits of your labor. The hours you would spend hunched over your own kitchen table working away on ensuring everything was perfect. He looked down to the warm plate of food in front of him, the roasted potato hash and scrambled eggs. “You’re the reason the town has cooking oil?”

“Yes, it is.” Feeling pleasure flutter at his impressed tone, you knew your voice had taken on a breathy quality. If Tommy’s growing grin was any indication, his teeth sparkling as he watched the two of you across from him. Joel had turned completely in his chair to face you, while you had pivoted your body in his direction. Both of you undoubtedly drawn to each other even in the most casual of ways.

“What are you gonna do with the wood? Didn’t you burn it and mix the ashes into the soil last time?”

“Yes, I did.” You gripped the notebook tight, fingers aching from the pressure. “It helped to reduce the acidity of the soil and ward off slugs from targeting the blooms once spring came around.”

“Well, uh, I can come by and lend a hand. If you needed it, but I don’t want to intrude if you’ve got it all under control.” Joel ran a wide palm over the back of his head, fingers brushing through the curls as he offered his help in a round about way. Something you suspected Tommy had anticipated. It took you a second to process his words, remembering the feel of his hair tangled around your own fingers. It had been soft despite a days’ worth of travel and an overnight stint atop a dusty mattress. You wondered how he cared for it, what it looked like slicked back fresh from the shower, water dripping from the ends of it and-

“Oh, that’s okay!” You shuffled on your feet, shaking the rather intrusive thoughts and not wanting to burden the man with another task. “You just said you’ve got a lot to do, don’t want to add to it.”

“I could shuffle a few things around, clear up an afternoon to come help ya out.” He insisted, something smoldering in his dark eyes. His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he regarded you carefully, as if he had noticed the lingering gaze on his movement. He shifted to pull that damned little note pad of his own from his back pocket and flipped it open. Looking over the long list penciled on the page.

“No, no, it’s okay, really. You don’t have to do that, Joel.” You waved your own notebook at him, hoping he realized you kind of wanted the space from him. Kind of needed it, actually. To get the image of his softened face out of your head and the ability to look at him without feeling a jolt of desire strike through your body. Space would probably be good, would allow you to reign everything in and be better equipped to ride alongside him once again. The lines had begun to blur and they needed to be defined.

“It’s no problem, I can-“

“It’s really okay, I can handle it. But uh- th-thanks for the offer.” You scurried away before he could add your name to the list among his other tasks. “More important stuff to tend to than a me-measly tree.”

“I really don’t’-“

“I’ve got it.” You called over your shoulder, leaving the two men to their breakfast.

The second you were walking through the door, Joel rounded on the younger man. The shit-eating smirk was securely in place among his brother’s features across the table. Irking Joel further.

“Shut up.”

“Oh brother, you got it bad.”

“Shut up, Tommy.”

“C’mon, she could really use the help. It’s just her.”

“No one offers to pitch in? The other women with personal gardens all help each other out.”

“It’s the age gap. Olive’s about a decade or so younger than them.”

Joel contemplated his brother’s words, thinking back on the thinly veiled disdain Marsha had voiced to him the last time he had been tending to the woman’s home. He knew you were younger, but he hadn’t anticipated it causing any problems with the rest of the settlements occupants just how it wasn’t the cause of any between you and him. At least, not any real problems. Age was just a number nowadays, if you were alive, you were alive. If you weren’t well, you weren’t. Friendships and connections blooming between people regardless of age and backgrounds in abundance as people clung to what they could in order to survive.

“Does anybody ever…talk about her to you?”

Shifting from annoying little brother to something more serious, Tommy looked over his brother as he chewed the bite he had just taken.

“What do you mean?”

“Marsha seemed to insinuate that Olive is common topic of discussion.”

“Marsha doesn’t like Olive. Never has.” Tommy scowled, stabbing at a chunk of potato rather harshly.

“Does it have to do with the patrol you won’t tell me about?”

“…yeah.” Tommy was suddenly very interested in the rest of his food, ignoring the look he could feel Joel pinning him with from across the table.

“Tommy.”

“Her old patrol partner was someone she showed up with, when we first brought her here. He and Marsha’s daughter got on quickly, were engaged within a year and planning on havin’ a kid or two.”

Joel was silent as he picked at his food. Marsha’s daughter, Millie, didn’t have any kids or a husband that he knew of. The two women sharing a home close to his.

“They blame her for what happened.”

“What did happen?”

“Joel, you’ve gotta ask your girl that. It’s not my place to give details.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“But you want her to be, c’mon, I can see it plain as day.”

“We are not talking about this.”

“I think she likes you back. But it’s hard to tell since she doesn’t get a lot of interaction around town aside from when she’s trading or cookin’.”

“She don’t like me like that. We’re just…friendly.”

It wasn’t friendly the way Joel took advantage of any reason to touch you. From soothing minor injuries, to brushing his fingers over yours as he passed you something, to brushing things you tended to smear along your cheek. Just to hear the hitch of your breath and to witness the way your eyes widened. It wasn’t friendly the way you were the last thing he thought of at night and the first thing he thought of when he woke up. It wasn’t friendly the way his gaze lingered on you while out on patrol or when he caught sight of you around town.

It wasn’t friendly the way he spent hours in his workspace sketching out designs and carving into wood in the hopes that you would enjoy what he was creating.

It wasn’t friendly the way he didn’t engage with you for worry of making you nervous, like he noticed he had begun to do. Stuttering every other word around him and others in a habit he couldn’t figure out was his fault or something you were just prone to do. It wasn’t friendly how he wanted to see if it was just him that caused it, wanted to see how quickly words would fail you completely if he were to focus his attention on you in a more than friendly way…

But his brother didn’t know anything about that.

Never one to miss out on the chance for a slow morning, you allowed yourself to wake up naturally.

The sun was just beginning its descent from the highest point in the sky, peeking in through the drawn blinds of your bedroom.

Your body was warm underneath the covers, sleep making your mind take the sensation and let it influence your dreams.

A large body hovered over you, looming like the mountains around the settlement. Protective, a sight to behold at any time of day, as steady as the day turns to night. But the body was so much closer, pressing your back down into the mattress, making your head spin with the heady feel of it.

Thump, thump, thump.

Heart beating hard as pleasure coursed through your veins, brought to life by the feeling of fingers smoothing over your skin. Trailing down over your belly button and through course hair to find your slick folds. Delving between them, parting them, caressing over your fluttering core and then in, producing an obscene sound as they filled you up. Another set of fingers gentle nudging that little bundle of nerves to light your body up even further, heat encompassing you, suffocating you as they quickened their pace.

Thump, thump, thump.

Your heartbeat was harsh in your ears, roaring loud and with a jolt, you realized it wasn’t your heart. It was the sound of someone knocking on your front door.

Eyes flying open, the phantom sensations of being pinned down, of thick fingers caressing the most intimate parts of your body, of the rasped-out nickname in a voice that wasn’t real were ripped from you. You were alone in your bed, your hands the only ones bringing you pleasure.

“Olive?” The faint call of that deep voice your mind had tried to convince you was whispering sweet nothings in your ear was down the hall and on the other side of your front door.

What was Joel Miller doing calling on you in the middle of the day, effectively splashing a bucket of cold water over you as you realized you had been fantasizing about him as you touched yourself.

Embarrassment and guilt squashed the pleasure that had been consuming you, lingering tingles making it hard to clear the fog of your sleep hazed mind. Throwing on the robe hanging on the back of your bedroom door, you took a deep breath to steady yourself before approaching the door he knocked on again.

He must’ve been preparing to walk off when you swung your door open, his back to you and a hand on rubbing on the back of his neck. He turned back at the sound, eyes taking in the disheveled form you were sure you made in your doorway. It was the afternoon, and here you were in a robe and hardly anything else, being pulled from your bed.

“Oh, hey- you were sleeping.” His eyes quickly averted, a hand waving at you as a blush crept up along the apples of his cheeks. You wondered what had him so flustered, his hands clenching and unclenching just below the sleeves of his jacket.

“I should’ve been up already, it’s okay.” You said quietly, taking in the bulk of him on your small stoop. It was a little disorienting, mind imagining him and now being faced with him so close. “D-did you need-“

“Was coming by to see if you needed any help with taking down that tree Tommy mentioned.”

You fell silent at the way he cut you off, his words low like your own, as if he was frustrated.

“Cause if you did all you had to do was ask.”

“I-I didn’t want to add to your list, that little notepad is always so full of-“

“I offered too and you said no. But you’re not even doing what you took the time off for.”

“Excuse me?” You leaned back from him, worry and your own annoyance flaring. Just because you took one morning to yourself didn’t mean you were shirking your responsibilities. His words hitting too close to the wound that everyone else’s had dug close to your heart.

“You take the time off every year, which you didn’t tell me about. Tommy blurted it out to get some sort of satisfaction out of your miscommunication and you’re not even taking care of the trees.”

“Joel-“

“You know what, just, never mind. I’m heading around back to take care of it for you. Go back to bed.”

And then he was stomping down the steps and rounding the side of your house. The gate creaking open to signal his entrance to your backyard.

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me, Mr. Miller.” You mumbled as you shut the front door and moved back to the bedroom. Dressing in a ratty pair of jeans and a long-stained t-shirt in a rush. Putting up your hair as you walked into the back room to retrieve the axe he would need for the work he took it upon himself to do.

It was hard not to stare, your eyes glued to the man as he expertly wielded the axe and chopped down the damaged olive tree. He had shrugged off his flannel after trimming it of the few branches that stretched from the trunk, leaving him in just the t-shirt he donned underneath. A crisp white that displayed the sweat on the small of his back and between his broad shoulders. A crisp white that displayed the bulge of his biceps as he worked. A crisp white that fell just over his waist and billowed up to catch on the spiral top of his notepad peeking out from his back pocket. A crip white that now displayed his rather toned backside to you free from obstruction…

Shaking your head, you continued to pick the fruit from the others. There were three rows of about ten trees, the one you were worried about in the middle of it all. Your movements made you feel like you were slowly circling around him, honing in on the man taking out whatever frustrations he had on the plant. Until everything was gathered, and you retired back inside as the sun beat down what little warmth it still had this late in the season.

The fruit was already washed in the utility sink, resting in strainers set over ratty towels to dry atop the long table in the middle of the room. A record played in the living room, soft guitar and brass filling the space.

Sighing, you poured yourself a few fingers of whisky and then a few into a second glass as you heard the thud of the axe being set against the wall in the back room and steps heading your way.

“Joel, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how.” You offered one of the glasses to him, taking in the way he swiped at his sweating forehead with the back of his arm.

“I know…I’m-I shouldn’t have come at you like that. I’m sorry too.” His fingers brushed yours as he took the peace offering. But he didn’t drink until you lifted your own glass and clinked it to his. “Just…wanted there to be a reason why you weren’t by my side for a little bit.”

Stepping forward to run a hand down from his shoulder to elbow in a comforting move, you motioned him to follow you.

Through the hours of the afternoon and into the evening, you explained the difference between the colors of the fruit. The flavor profiles of each, of how you always sorted even portions of the harvest out for oil, for pickling, for the raw fruit to be shared with the town. You walked him through the process of turning a small batch into a paste, straining it over and over again to produce the oil. Two pairs of hands slick with it as he helped you after he had asked how you managed to do it.

He had asked of your knowledge, prompting you to admit that it was all learned since arriving here and being assigned to the house with the trees in the backyard. That it hadn’t been something you carried with you beforehand. You asked after his woodworking, how it had turned into crafting small figurines.

And he answered much the same as you. Learned skills to help deal with and adapt to the slower way of life Jackson allowed you both to lead.

“You left one on the table.” His voice was right behind you, having followed you into the backroom. You turned to look at him over your shoulder before going back to placing the jars in your hand into a battered plastic crate. One was for the pickled and general olives, while another was for the oil you would make once the distraction of Joel Miller was gone from your kitchen. The only evidence of such from today’s activities in his hand.

“Oh, that one’s for you.”

“I couldn’t, you need it for trade. Everythin’ helps.”

“I insist, it’ll be good to have in your kitchen.”

“It’s just gonna sit there on the counter beside the stove.”

“Well, take it. Just in case.” You whispered. Noticing how close he had gotten in an attempt to hand the jar to you. He was close enough to smell the way the olive leaves had permeated his clothing. The perfume of the freshly chopped wood stained his skin in a heady way. You felt the counter dig into your hips, having unconsciously backed into it beside the deep sink.

“In case of what, sweetheart?” He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper, tongue peeking between his lips as he took in the way you had a smudge of dirt under your eye in the warm light of your kitchen bleeding into the backroom. His gaze snapped to his hand as you bravely tangled your fingers with his own. Feeling your lips curl into a playful smile, you leaned up and whispered into his ear. 

“The food critic decides to play personal chef.”

Oh, he liked that. If the widening of his pupils was any indication, the way his breath caught in his throat and he swallowed as he pulled back a little to look over your face.

He leaned in to press a cautious kiss to your cheek, knowing there was no bruise or cut to disguise his move as anything other than the blatant want for it. The soft scratch of his mustache lighting you up.

Your breath fanned out across his face, skin prickling along his body at the warmth of it bouncing back to you. A small huff the only noise coming from you. His eyes flicked up to capture yours, and you felt your heart lurch. He was so handsome, his lips looked so plush and pink this close. There was no way he could’ve missed the way you had glanced down at them, how you were thinking of feeling them pressed to your skin in other places, of the way you pulled your own bottom one between your teeth at the thought.

He leaned in, sharing breath with you, his nose brushing against yours before-

The needle of the record player scratching across vinyl startled you both, jolting in response to the harsh noise breaking the bubble of tension surrounding you both. Your hands had flown up to grip his shoulders tight while his arms had wrapped around your back and pulled you to him. Heart thundering for a completely different reason now, you cast your eyes over his shoulder toward to the record player.

With nervous laughter you stepped away from the man and set about lifting it from the still spinning record. His eyes are on you as you replace the record with another, setting it up to play and then turning back around to him. Your heart still thumping in your chest as you watch him hold tight to the jar in his hand and dip his head to you in a departing bow.

He made sure it was well into the evening before enlisting Tommy’s help. The forlorn way you had looked at the pieces of the tree once it was no longer standing proud among the others had stirred an idea in his mind. He was going to take the thickest part of the trunk, because he wasn’t stealing it away. No. He was going to return it to you once he had cut it into slabs and let it dry. He was going to return it to you in the form of a cutting board, crafted from the beloved trees in your care and in honor of the namesake you’d adapted.

But it had to be perfect. He would practice on other planks and cuts of wood until he was able to craft one that would be good enough for you. Setting his mind and heart on the endeavor.

Once he was back home with the trunk set in room set up as his workspace, stepping out of the shower and collapsing into the bed, he let a lazy smile overtake him.

He may be tired, exhausted beyond his limits. But he wouldn’t have traded his afternoon with you for all the restful sleep in the world.

He couldn’t get the feeling of your lips against his skin out of his mind. The gentle pressure of them grazing over his injuries, the gentle pressure against the patch in his beard he had never been fond of until that moment.

“Fuck,” He groaned out, palm tight around his aching cock. He had woken up thinking of your lips on more of his body, trailing over his skin in sucking kisses, tongue laving at every inch. He had been leaking and hard, his hand around himself before he had even come to complete consciousness.

The very real image of you stood in your doorway clad in nothing but your robe, the way the swell of your breasts was visible with the way you must’ve thrown it on to answer his knocking. The way your eyes were cloudy, slowly clearing and your face slightly flushed, as if you had just been- he groaned deep from within his chest. It had looked like you had just been deep in the throes of pleasure, body overwhelmed with it and torn away by his calling on you. Hair mused and breath a little too quick, he wondered what you sounded like. Would you whimper softly or moan out loudly, would you be shy and cover your face with your arms or would you scramble for any purchase as it raced through your body, swelling up to consume you.

He pumped his hand slowly now, reveling in the feeling stirring low in his gut. The strikes of pleasure moving through him as he recalled the way you had felt against him as you both rode back on your horse.

The way your hip had felt in his hands as he had tried to steady himself. His mind taking the thought and running with it, the imagining the way he would grip you from behind. You down on your hands and knees, legs parted to make room for him to fit between them, thrust against you as deep as he could, your keening-

He choked on his own breath as the sheer force of his release hit him, sudden and overwhelming. Spurts of pearlescent cum coating his hand and dripping over his knuckles.

Euphoria filling him up with satisfaction, his body humming with it until the guilt slammed into him.

He just fucked his fist to the thought of you. His patrol partner. His…friend. The woman he couldn’t get out of his mind even if his life depended on it.

Catching his breath, he looked out the window across from his bed. Stars glittering at him through the curtains as if they know all the dirty things that had just run through his mind, sharing in his secrets.

The only small blessing of his complete lack of self-control and oversight is that he doesn’t have to ride alongside you today on patrol.

“I’ve got the first batch of the season,” You announced as you walked through the doors of the small makeshift market. It was right along the main street, a few fronts down from the mess hall and the Tipsy Bison.

“Oh, lovely!” The man at the back counter praised, clearing a space atop it for you to put down the delivery.

“Marsha.” You nodded toward her in greeting, uncomfortable with the way her eyes had followed you through the few aisles after letting the man go over the contents of the crate. Another nod to her daughter, standing right beside her with a small wicker basket full of root vegetables. “I’ve got a jar in there for you, with the garlic you managed to salvage from the garden.”

She didn’t say anything, looking for all the world like her voice had been stolen from her. A small nudge from her daughter jostled her and she seemed to find it.

“Thank you, Olive. That was…very sweet of you to think of me.”

“Of course, anything to be of help.”

“Yes, of course.” She repeated your words, trailing off as she noticed a figure across the street. Her eyes tracked their movement but when you turned to see what had caught her attention there was no one there. Suddenly she was speaking your actual name and it roused your nerves to life. “You…do so much for the town, I just wanted you to know that we all appreciate the time you take each year to handle the harvest.”

“O-oh, well, um, thank you, Marsha. That’s very k-kind of you to say.”

“Momma,” Millie whispered, taking ahold of the older woman’s arm. Something in her voice you couldn’t quite get a read on. Taking that as your queue to cut off the rather awkward interaction, you waved at them and began to head back up to the counter to collect the items you had requested in exchange for the crate of jars. Your ears were strained, trying to catch the hushed words the women shared behind your back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I realized how…unfairly we speak about her. Someone convinced me to apologize to her.”

“She doesn’t deserve apologies, she’s the reason-“

“Millie, we need to work on moving past that. It’s been five years now. We can all live alongside each other with the understanding of what happened.”

“No, momma, you may be ready to forgive her but I’m not. She got my Aiden and I’m not going to let her drag down Joel too.”

“He was the one who told me to be nicer to her, just trying to appease the lovely man.”

Any good feelings of a successful harvest and two weeks of working countless hours to jar, pickle, and transform the fruit from your trees vanished. The awkward yet positive sentiment from one of your more…complicated social connections going down with it at Millie’s angered words. You tried to muster up a smile for the man at the counter, taking the crate back from him with the trade items but you weren’t sure if you were able to. Not turning to look at the women, you exited the shop and made your way straight back home despite the list of errands in your pocket.

Of course Joel had caught wind of the way people spoke of you.

Heard it from Marsha herself, the source of all your troubles despite having done everything in your power to counteract the bad you had brought down on the town with your incompetence. He had put his own reputation at stake by sticking up for you and you only hoped it didn’t affect the way he was received. He was so important to the town, achieving far more than you in what he provided and brought in his skill set.

You didn’t want him to feel even a fraction of what you did as you navigated life here in the settlement. The pitying looks cast your way, the whispered words of what people felt entitled enough to voice, the way you seemed to only be good for one thing and it was the crop in the backyard of the house you had been assigned by pure circumstance.

The crate thudded atop the table where you thrust it harshly, frustration controlling your movements as you moved through the small house back to your room. Shucking off and resisting the urge to hurl your boots toward the closet you sighed as you felt tears prickle your eyes. They rolled hot down your cheeks as you curled up in the covers and gave up on what was supposed to be a good day.

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

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[bigtreefest]

Chapter 5: Heaven + Back

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: Heaven isn’t even half as far as you’d thought it’d be. It’s barely out of town.

Word Count: 2,181

Content/Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, kissing, sundresses, size difference (applies to all readers bc Ari is just THAT HUGE), dry humping (imma call this technically smut), like sickeningly loving glances but don’t call it love, dancing, getting fed dinner

Author’s Note: I’ve never written anything sexual before, so go easy on me. Also, nothing gets me going like a man who treats his partner equally, taking care of certain things and not expecting anything in return, even though the relationship is full of equal exchanges. I hope this chapter shows a little bit of that back-and-forth. Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo welcome and appreciated!!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Below is the song which inspired this chapter. Kinda a sweet little flouncy tune.

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You and Ari had been officially dating for about two months now, but had agreed to take it slow for the sake of both of your hearts.

At this point, you were much more aware of the other’s schedule and trusted each other enough to share your locations, something he made sure of so you never had to stress over where he was like that one night. The one night that changed everything for him, for the better.

As you were getting off work, you looked down at your phone to see a text from Ari:

‘I’m picking you up at six. We’re going for a picnic. Rest is a surprise😘’

You smiled at the device in your hand. Ever since that night, he also made sure to tell you a general plan of the dates to ease your worries. Whether or not to eat before, what you might want to wear, could all be implied since he gave just enough detail without spoiling the whole plan.

Ari smiled down at his phone when he saw your reply:

‘I’ll be ready, see you then, Bear❤️’

Ari’s buddies at the ranger station took note of his dopey smile, the way he was always checking his phone unlike anything they’d seen in years of working together. Not even when he was dating his ex, Savannah, or as they all said amongst themselves, ‘the she-devil who must not be named,’ had he ever been this plugged-in.

She never cared to be around, and Ari never cared enough to check his phone for his messages while on the job, and that’s all they needed to know. You, however, they all really liked you. You had come by to surprise Ari during one of his later shifts, so only a few of them were around. Rachel and Max sat with Ari in the dim shack, lit mostly by the golden light that came through the blinds facing the west, a product of the sunset.

You knocked and came in, wearing a sundress and carrying a light dinner you had made using croissants you got from the bakery in town, along with a few baked goods for Ari and the other rangers. It was your day off, and another day of trying a new spot, so you’d figured it was as good a time as any to see where he worked and make a good impression on the closest things he had to friends besides Sammy.

You introduced yourself and sat with the three of them for dinner, everyone raving about the food and thanking you for the rare treat. When you got up to leave, Ari walked you out, giving a bear hug and kiss before he opened your car door and watched until you drove away.

He returned to the station to be greeted by two smirking faces as they chewed their desserts. “We like this one. Don’t mess it up.” Rachel quipped.

Ari went to sit back down at his desk, thinking about you in that sundress, unable to wait until the next time he could get you alone.

Ari was far from a home cook. All that his fridge really housed was enough to get by, but not enough to impress you, so Rachel helped him pick the best restaurant to get some takeout for your picnic date tonight. He’d cook for you someday, but he figured it was better to have enjoyable food now, while he was still learning. You didn’t deserve to be fed garbage.

He stopped by town to grab the meal before heading up the winding road to your place. You stepped out on the front porch in another one of your sundresses, hair down and sunglasses perched on your head to combat the evening light. You weren’t wearing a jacket, but this was by design. Maybe Ari could keep you warm. Little did you know, he had the same plan. He had purposely not said anything about needing one, excited for the chance to put you in a jacket of his own. It made him feral.

Ari walked up and greeted you with a peck, holding your hand to guide you back to the truck. Well, more like him holding out his pointer finger for you, with your smaller hand wrapped around it. You learned that first night after holding his hand that it was a little difficult to spread your fingers to accommodate for his large ones, so this was one of the solutions, besides holding hands without interlocking fingers, just as good of a fix.

He opened up the driver’s seat of his truck, knowing you would’ve slid as close to him as possible anyway, and grabbed your waist to help you get in as you jumped and slid, scooching over. Ari followed and held your hand once again as he drove.

“So where are we going?”

Ari glanced between you and the road with a smile. “Somewhere very special.”

He took a turn off the paved road and onto a dirt path, an access route that was part of the lesser-used hiking trails. Ari pulled past a creek, and through the evergreens, until he reached a rocky clearing, turning the truck around so the bed was facing a cliff.

He hopped out of the truck as you scooted to the edge of the bench, legs dangling over the side as Ari moved to stand between them. He rubbed your sides, leaning in and placing his forehead against your chest. He took a deep inhale, comforted by the scent of your perfume, but you could tell it was more than that. He was about to say something important, something that made him feel vulnerable. You ran your hands over his hair to comfort him, an attempt of telling him he could take his time, you would wait. His eyes raised to meet yours.

“This is my favorite place. I don’t think many people come out here, but it’s probably the best view you’ve ever seen. I used to run up to this spot just to get away from everything. Seeing town so small really put everything into perspective at a time where I was so fragile and everything was falling apart. I wanted to share it with you.”

You looked down at him, grateful that he trusted you with something he valued so much. “Thank you, Ari. Thank you for bringing me here.”

You leaned down and kissed him before he helped you down and led you to the edge of the cliff. He was right, it was a phenomenal view of the town below, framed by the rest of the mountains that created a valley for it to sit. A haze was falling down the mountainsides, covering everything in a light mist that caught the golden-pinkish hue the sun began to cast.

Ari opened up the truck bed, where you saw pillows and blankets wrapped up. He helped you in before joining, the two of you working together to lay them out before he pulled out the food through the back window of the truck.

You offered a hand, but he insisted on finishing the setup himself, pulling you across his lap and feeding you bites, alternating with his own.

As you finished up and Ari set the containers aside, you shifted to straddle his lap, your sundress draping over both of your legs like a puddle of fabric. From his point of view, he swore the setting sun formed a halo over your head. You looked angelic, and it was fitting, for the grace you always gave him. Sunday morning had nothing on you and the miracles your simple existence had done for Ari. He didn’t know he had needed saving, and that was just what you had done for him and then some.

Ari admired everything about you. It’s like there was magic in your eyes. For all he knew, this gravel road was a street of gold because you touched it. The only thing he hadn’t seen you do yet was turn water into wine. But to be fair, he hadn’t asked.

As you looked into his eyes, searching back and forth, you could see how deeply he was looking into your soul.

“Hey, Bear, what’s going on in your head?” You leaned in closer. He always looked at you with such deep care, but it was too soon to call it love, right? Maybe it was longing? Maybe it was trust, or appreciation? What was a word to describe all of those things together?

He looked up at you with the dopiest grin. “Just thinking about how amazing you are.”

His hands rubbed your back, slowly pulling you down closer to him until your lips met. Your fingers ran through his hair, nails scratching his scalp, causing him to moan into your mouth. This kiss which was soft and tender at first became needier. Ari’s hands moved to your hips and squeezed.

His grip pulled you forward, creating a delicious friction against your core. You could feel yourself growing wet through the thin fabric of your panties as he continued to guide you back and forth in his lap. You pushed yourself against him harder, feeling his erection grow through his jeans as you maintained a rhythm.

You finally pulled away from the kiss, gasping for air and tucking your face into his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his sun-kissed skin. The salty taste of a thin layer of sweat hit your tongue, swirling with his familiar cologne and the surrounding pine, creating a comforting musk that was so him.

One of Ari’s hands moved to your cheek, guiding your head so you could look into his eyes again.

“Eyes on me, Duchess. You look so beautiful right now. You’ve gotta be an angel, this feels heavenly.” Ari panted between his words.

You began to move your hips furiously against his, whines leaving your mouth as you could feel yourself cresting towards a peak. You could tell Ari was getting close, too, his moans growing deeper and raspier as his fingertips dug into you.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. I can feel how wet you are through my jeans. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

His eyes, his words, his body. They were all begging for release. The combination pulled you towards the edge as you felt a warmth flush over your entire body, your eyes squeezing shut, abs tensing, and pussy clenching around nothing. Ari’s strong hands kept you moving, riding out your high as he finished below you with a low grunt, your open mouths against each other, exchanging air.

When you opened your eyes again, you were met with Ari’s, half-lidded and hazy with satisfaction. You scooted back towards his knees to see a shared wet spot on his pants from both of your releases, but Ari wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed at all. He had just shared an intimate moment with his favorite person in his favorite place, and every second of bliss was worth the slight discomfort he was beginning to feel. You grabbed his hands and pulled him to sit up from his spot leaning back against the truck cab.

Ari could see the shiver that ran through your body now that the sun had set, taking the heat with it.

“I’m, uh, gonna change into some of the spare clothes. You want a jacket?”

He vaulted over the side of the truck bed, landing in the dirt with a soft crunch of the pebbles under his feet as he opened the back door.

“Yes please.” You had moved to the edge of the bed, looking out over the cliff at the lights that now glowed in the windows of homes and shops below. It was picturesque, almost like a model village.

You turned over your shoulder as you heard music start to play. Ari had turned on the radio, low on the dash, a familiar type of music coming through the speakers and open driver’s side doors. You could see he had changed pants as he reached out a hand toward you.

“Care for a dance?” You jumped down and joined him as he slipped a hoodie over your head and pulled you close. Once a couple songs has passed, Ari stopped swaying and pulled away, looking at you sheepishly.

“I kinda didn’t think this through, but I need to turn off the radio so I don’t kill the truck battery.” You laughed and nodded, heading back to push yourself up and sit on the edge of the tailgate.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. As much as I love being out here with you, I’m sure being stranded bear bait is not a good look on me.”

Ari returned to you and scrunched his nose, leaning close. “Too late.” He whispered in your ear before playfully biting your neck and joining you up in the bed again. You giggled as he pulled you closer, the two of you eventually falling back, laying there and looking at the unobstructed sky full of stars.

Next >

Bonus A/N: How badly do you think a person needs a pinky toe? Because I would definitely cut mine off for a truck bed date with Ari.

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chapter 156 thoughts

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 13

Aqua Hoshigan Status: N/A

I'm gonna be real with you gamers I don't have a lot to say about this one LOL. Typically these Mem chapters come at the top or bottom of volumes as transitions between phases of the story so getting one slap bang in the middle of what will be volume 16 is a little jarring, as are the contents of it. Despite making up 1/3rd of the current B-Komachi, Mem is pretty underutilized across the whole manga so while it's nice to see her be given a proper arc capstone chapter all to herself, it feels underbaked. I almost suspect that the beats of this chapter may have been intended to serve as the bones of a Mem mini-arc at some point but with only so much time to spare before the manga ends it was crammed into this one chapter. Without any room to breathe, none of its beats hit.

Mem and Frill being friendly enough for solo hangouts is cute, though! One of the things I did like about the Movie Arc was the way it mushed the wider supporting cast together into a more closely knit social circle and I like seeing that reflected in moments like this. It helps add to the sense of them being people living their own lives who have things to do outside of dealing with Hoshino Family Drama.

The story swinging back to deal the elephant in the room that is Mem's real age is also potentially juicy but - say it with me, folks! - lacks the build up it needs to really be worth taking seriously. Prior to this, Mem's age has mostly been played for laughs when it has come up with no real indication that it's something the manga wants us to take seriously. In that way, the slightly blase framing of it here does better suit as a resolution than suddenly taking it deadly serious was but it does just end up feeling like something Akasaka added to the manga not because he felt it was an important part of the story but because it was next on his checklist of things to tie off before the manga ends.

This can really be felt in the way this chapter really fails to dig into why Mem even had to lie in the first place - there's the off-handed acknowledgement of Mem wanting to be an idol and her age potentially being a barrier in that regard but it doesn't actually dig into this premise of Mem's age being a problem. In a series whose proclivity for infodumping about the ills of the entertainment industry is practically a fandom joke at this point, it feels uncharacteristically restrained for it to not take this opportunity to talk about how this attitude is born from fetishizing, commodifying attitudes about youth and supposed 'purity' and the ageism and misogyny many adult women in the entertainment industry all over the globe have to deal with.

In general, OnK has been pretty toothless the last few arcs when it comes to the cast having to actually navigate the industry's toxicity. The way Ruby's struggles with idolhood are held up as comparable to Ai's is one major symptom of this that I'll probably go into at some other point, but we also see this in characters like Kaburagi and Shima-D too - despite being objectively pretty scummy individuals in terms of both their behaviour within the industry and their interpersonal relationships, the note the manga seems to have ended on for both of them is a sort of 'aw shucks he didn't mean none of it' wishy-washiness where it's unwilling to hold them accountable.

This toothlessness adds to making everyone's immediately acceptance of Mem's lie ring so deeply hollow. No scandal, no negativity, no nothing. An utterly frictionless resolution that feels as though it added nothing to the plot point it was tying off. Again, it would feel weird for this to become a big dramatic beat when the story has so consistently treated it like a joke but this half-baked conclusion leaves me feeling lukewarm at best.

To not end this on a sour note, I will say I really like the note this ends on of Mem deciding to shoot for university and I like Ruby finally giving Mem even a shred of props for the backbreaking amount of work she put into B-Komachi's growth. Appreciate Mem more, you little gremlin!!!

Speaking of Mem's JD dreams though, I've heard some speculation so far that Mem shooting for university is an indication that she's also going to be leaving B-Komachi but… eh, I disagree. Mem talks about how much the group means to her and her revealing the lie here feels like a step to try and protect her place in B-Komachi and ensure she can keep performing with them.

Break next week to no one's surprise… did y'all know the volume 15 release in Japan says volume 16 isn't dropping until December? Wild.