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lis-likes-fics · 2 months ago

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Pairing(s): Coriolanus Snow x Reader, Original Character x Reader Word Count: 15.6k words Warnings: NSFW, smut at the beginning, swearing, mentions of death and murder, Coriolanus Snow is not a good person... A/N: This is part two to Poison. I didn't think it would take so long to write this, and this is only half of what I intended for this part. Now that I have a third part to do, I don't know when it'll be out by but it'll definitely be...a lot to process, me thinks. But anyway, I hope you enjoy this very not happy chapter! Thank you and enjoy!

PART ONE: The Discovery

You're startled awake by a knock at the door. You sit up with a groan, rubbing your eyes as you move quickly to wake up.

You mumble something, a groggy “mm” that tells the person at the door to come in. It's not Coryo. He would have just walked in.

“Charlotta?”

She bows her head briefly as she enters the room. You glance out of the window, confusion and the faintest feeling of panic edging your nerves at how bright it is.

“Sorry to disturb you, ma'am,” she says, and you notice the slightest confusion in her face as she speaks, “but Master Snow has requested your presence.”

You throw your legs over the side of the bed, stretching your arms out wide. “What time is it?”

“Half past nine, ma'am.”

A wash of ice shocks your skin to the bone. You bolt up in an instant, moving so quickly that you make yourself dizzy as you start sifting through your wardrobe for clothes.

Your panic is evident, and she completely understands as she watches you scramble. Like clockwork, you are up every morning at six—hardly an hour after all the servants have woken—to prepare for Snow. Because, like clockwork, he wakes at seven to begin his day with breakfast and you. You're never late. Never.

“How did I sleep this late?” you wonder aloud, snatching a pair of clothes from the closet and rushing to the bathroom.

“Not sure,” Charlotta shrugs as she steps further into the room, beginning to change the sheets from your bed as you get ready. “I came to wake you at your normal time, but you must've fallen asleep again.”

“Shit,” you curse as you shove your toothbrush in your mouth. Your words are garbled in your mouth as you speak through it. “Thank you, Charlotta. Please tell him I'm on my way.”

She nods, gathering the sheets in her arms. “Of course, ma’am.”

As you glance off at the clock on the wall, you grimace as you turn slowly back to her. She probably has a million other things to do but… “Actually,” you sigh, “I'm sorry to ask, but could you help me dress? It will go quicker.”

You're truly grateful for Charlotta. She's one of the only people you know from this godforsaken Capitol who's never given you a hard time.

“Of course,” she says with no quarrel. You thank her quickly as she makes her way over, discarding the sheets on the floor to deal with after.

Together, you're ready in five minutes. You rush to the kitchen and living quarters, retrieving his tray of tea and cakes and this morning's newspaper. You're in the middle of shoving your planner under your arm as you scarf down a cookie to stave off some of your hunger.

When you arrive at his study, you take a steadying breath and check the time. Barely over ten minutes. Not bad.

You let yourself in, not bothering with the door. There's nothing you're not privy to already. If you can't have your privacy from Coryo, he can't have it from you (unless it's an order, but that hardly ever happens).

He doesn't look up from the papers on his desk. As he writes something down, he mutters under his breath. “You're late,” he says.

“I'm sorry, Coryo,” you quickly reply. As you set his new tea tray on his desk, you pick up the old one to set it next to the door to be taken. “I overslept.”

He looks up at you, raising a brow. “You never oversleep.”

You move to stand in front of his desk, holding your planner in your arm. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Coryo looks you up and down, hums, and returns to his writing. “I need you to run these to my office and schedule my appointments for next week. The calendar should be there with the–”

“The stack of requests in the bottom drawer. Yes, sir.” You nod dutifully, scrawling your own notes in your planner.

Unphased by your readiness, he continues. “Yes,” he points a pen at you, “also, there's this creature bugging me. Go handle that, please?”

“Radley Flynn?”

“That's the one.”

You nod. “He's done.”

He hums. “And…” an exasperated sigh leaves him, “Tigris finished the outfits for the big conference next week. If she offers tea, you may have tea, but no fraternizing.” He turns back to his papers. He mutters the last part under his breath. “She's been a bit of a pain lately.”

“Yes, Coryo.”

Coriolanus is quite proud of himself. At the beginning of your employment, you were a bit of a rowdy creature he had to learn to control. The lessons you had to be taught took a while for you to learn, but now that you have, life is so effortless at times. You know your job, your place. You respond as needed, you do as you're told. You're a perfect assistant, a perfect pet. He often finds himself priding his decision to keep you those years ago.

“Before you leave…” He stands, making his way over to you as you watch him move. You're unflinching as he does, standing before you as he presses his thumb over your chin. “You left me unattended this morning.”

“I know,” you nearly whisper, staring up at him in this almost pathetic nature. “I'm sorry.”

Coryo’s hold on you is a persistent kind of tie.

When you imagine a person holding a leash on someone else, it's so easy to imagine a silver chain wrapped around one's neck. It's this tangible thing you can see in your mind’s eyes. Even you can imagine it—Coriolanus Snow with a chain encircling his wrist, yanking tightly to have you falling at his feet.

But that's not what this is.

Your chain, even in the mind, is invisible. It's worse than invisible, it's entirely imaginary. You make up this illusion of a leash to make yourself feel better about bowing to his feet and showering him in your obedience.

You're at the point where your obedience has given you a freedom that makes it easy to escape. At any point, you could escape. As long as you never stop moving, Coriolanus Snow would be a thing ever behind you.

But you've found, silently and unconsciously, that you have become comfortable here.

You have no say in politics, so you're free of the burden of speaking against the injustices of the Capitol (as deeply as you wish to speak against them). You have no possession that is truly yours, so you have no material ties to keep you restrained. You have only one true sentimental tie, as only one true person has a sentimental tie to you, but they have enough power to keep you from having the responsibility to protect them.

In terms of liberation from duty and morality, you are free. And only Coryo can give you that kind of freedom. It is a bitter draught, but you drink it anyway because it is easier than crafting your own wine.

The slightest smirk amuses his lips as he shakes his head. “Don't be sorry,” he brushes your chin, pulling it down just enough to see your bottom teeth. “Just make it up.”

His other hand raises and he brushes his fingers over the swell of your breasts. He pinches your nipples between two knuckles and the smallest gasp interrupts your breaths at the tenderness he finds.

He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. “What's wrong with you?”

You shake your head, raising a hand to grasp him gently. “Nothing,” you say quickly. Offering a smile, you clear your throat. “How do you want me?”

There's a long pause where he thinks to himself, considering your response before deciding to let it go. It's no matter. “Desk.”

“Yes, Coryo.” You do as you're told and sit on the edge of the desk, legs spread and ready to receive him. He likes you like this. Subservient.

He hums as he unbuckles his belt, making his way to you as he situates himself between your thighs. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in close as you hook a leg around his waist. He keeps staring at you, examining the features on your face as he contemplates.

You bring him in, embracing his lips. Your fingers card through the hair at the back of his neck, a gentle tug encouraging him. His tongue licks your bottom lip and his hands roughly grip your thighs as he steps impossibly closer.

One of his hands dips between your legs, sliding under your tight dress and pushing it up to your waist. You moan into the kiss when his fingers graze your clothed heat, spreading wider to allow him the access he demands.

He pulls your panties down your legs and pushes his finger past the seam of your pussy, smiling at the warmth he finds as his lips continue to slide and bite against your own.

It doesn't matter how many times he does this to you, how many times you feel his lips or his fingers or his cock, you never tire of his touch. Your body bends to his every will, and though it scares you sometimes, you're in far too deep to care.

When he’s coaxed you enough and you're nice and ready for him, you sigh when he pushes himself inside of you. You wrap your arms tightly around him, pulling him in close as his mouth finds refuge at your neck.

When he thrusts roughly inside of you, burying his cock deep within your wanting cunt, your eyes flutter as he pulls a heavy moan from your lips.

The door opens as you offer a gentle smile to the tall woman you're happy to call your friend. She beams back at you, all white teethed and shiny eyed as she wraps her long arms around you. “Wonderful to see you, dear.”

“Hello, Tigris,” you say softly. As the hug loosens, and she ushers you inside.

“Would you like some tea?” she asks as she pulls you into the living room. You sit gratefully, kicking off your shoes as you soak in the warmth of the home.

“Please,” you reply. Your feet are killing you, you've got a headache, and sitting down on the plush sofa feels like heaven.

She disappears into the kitchen and returns a moment later. “Let me guess,” she smiles as she sets the tray down. “He told you to have tea but no more.”

You take the cup she offers you. “He did,” you take a sip with a happy sigh. “But I would like some tea and some cakes, please.”

She smiles, chuckling lightly as she hands you said cake. “Coming right up.” You take it from her tattooed hands. She's had them a couple months. They're like tiger stripes.

She sips from her own cup, crossing her legs as she sits back. “I won't keep you too long. I know how antsy he gets.”

You hum. “Thanks, Ty.”

There's a tiny clatter in the kitchen but you both dismiss it. It's simply their grandma’am “assisting” the maids with cooking. She hates cooking, none of you know why she bothers.

“How have you been?” Tigris asks gently, looking you over. You look a little tired.

“Besides both my headaches?” She chuckles. “As well as I can.”

Humming, she licks her bottom lip. “I'm glad I chose this tea then. It should soothe you.”

You sigh thankfully, tilting your head and offering your quiet appreciation. “You're an angel.”

Tigris chuckles as she shakes her head. “I don't know about all that?”

The smell that hits your nose just then is strong. Your stomach does flips as the scent has you scrunching your face. “What is she making?”

She chuckles. “Dinner?”

“And what's for dinner?”

“Something with far too much garlic, it smells like.” Tigris laughs lightly and, despite your unease, you join her.

You bring your cup back up to your lips, hoping the gentle scent of the tea will ease your stomach. But it does little to help. You feel nearly lightly, and you close your eyes as the strong garlicky smell has your headache throwing fits.

“Excuse me,” you pardon as you stand, moving quickly toward the bathroom just down the hall. Tigris rushes after you, her brows creased with worry as she goes to your aid.

You make it just in time, bending over the toilet as you heave the tea and cakes you just consumed. It's gross and you hate it, and Tigris does her best to help as she can.

“Are you alright?” she realizes it's a redundant question but she doesn't know what else to ask.

You sit back, standing to your feet with a frustrated sigh to wash your mouth clean. “Yes,” you nod as you finish. “I was just feeling a little ill. I'm okay.”

She shakes her head. She thinks in all the time that you've known one another, you've only been ill once and it was a couple years ago at least, and it wasn't like this. “You need to see a doctor.”

You shake your head. “No, I'm fine.”

“Honey, you do.” She sighs, “You know Coryo hates sickness.”

“I'm not ill.”

“Nevertheless.” She raises a hand to your cheek, worry shining in her eyes as she looks over you. “Promise me you'll see someone.”

You look away from her, sighing as you concede. Your voice is gentle. “I promise.”

She strokes her thumb over your cheek before letting you go. She turns to leave. “I'll get you some medicine, and your clothes.”

You hum, turning to do another rinse as you mutter a “thanks” under your breath.

You hate doctors.

After the Games, the passive aggressive treatments, the dismissiveness because you were going to die anyway… you feel like your feelings are validated.

And worse, the last time you had to deal with doctors was when you were ill a few years ago. When he was trying to determine how you could have gotten sick, the first questions he'd asked you were about your sex life and your menstruation. Then he just patted you on the head and told you it was stress. You're plenty stressed but that's certainly not what made you sick.

It's safe to say that you're not confident in their ability to treat you.

But when your migraines persist and you think the smell of garlic is going to kill you, you give in and make a secret appointment with a physician between errands. Besides, Coriolanus is beginning to get suspicious. You've been sore, and it hasn't been from him.

Your name snaps you from your thoughts, and you look up to see who's called you. Your apprehension is clear in your face when you lay eyes on the doctor. He's tall, dark haired, older. You sigh gently as you stand, walking past him and down the hall to his office.

When you're in the shelter and general secrecy of the office, he speaks. “I'm Dr. Lockert. How are you?”

You keep it short and simple as you sit. “Fine.”

He hums, taking a seat in his chair across from you. “And why have you come in today?”

You hesitate before you answer. For a brief moment, you consider standing up and leaving. You just need to try and get more rest, you're sure of it…

But the pain simmering behind your eye is the deciding factor.

“I've been a little sick the past couple of weeks.” You clear your throat. “I was wondering if you could help me.”

He reaches to his desk, retrieving a clipboard as he plucks a pen from his coat pocket. “Describe the sickness?”

You sigh. “I've been really tired. Lots of migraines, nausea…a little bloated?”

He raises a brow, though he doesn't look at you. “Have you been using the toilet a lot?”

“Yes?”

He looks at you then. “When was the last time you had your blood?”

You refrain from reacting, you're good at that. The urge to grind your teeth and roll your eyes, the urge to stand and walk out is strong. As calmly as you can, you lick your lips and explain.

“I'm on contraceptives,” you say, your eyes unyielding as you watch him. “I haven't had mine in years.”

You think, for a moment, that spending so much time with Coriolanus has affected more than your confidence. You're a bit colder now, there's a harsher bite in your eyes that you had tried so hard not to recover from him. You think if Lockert can see it, the reflection of the president in your eyes, and that's why he clears his throat as he tears his eyes from your glare.

“Forgive my bluntness,” he mutters, “have your breasts…become sensitive? Perhaps sore or heavy?”

You're about to leave.

Your words are quick and dismissive. You're giving him ten seconds. “Yes, do you know what it is?”

Lockert removes his glasses, rubbing his forehead and sniffing gently. He looks up at you, and he has two seconds left to answer.

“You may be experiencing the early stages of…” he hesitates, “...of a pregnancy.”

You sigh. “No.”

“No?” He had expected that answer.

You sling your work bag over your shoulder and stand. “No.” He stands as well. There's no astonishment or confusion in your voice. You're thinking straight and clearly, and you're more fed up than anything else. “I can't be pregnant. I've never missed a dose once. My line of work…” you slow, ensuring he understands every word, “does not grant leniency for pregnancy.”

He shrugs. “Even so, contraceptives are not always 100% effective.” That's when your ears start to burn with anxiety, a pit forming at the bottom of your stomach. “All of your symptoms coincide with that of early stage pregnancy.”

You don't know if you should believe him. There are likely a multitude of things that mimic pregnancy symptoms. You're not, and you can't be. You don't know what to say.

“Tell you what,” he says. “If you can give me a urine sample, I can have it tested for you. I should be able to have those results by the end of the day. I'll make it a priority because I know you're busy.”

You nod firmly. “Yes, do that.”

He turns to grab the tools for the sample, making quick work of doing such. You might have been too stern, but you don't have time or patience right now. You're running late enough as it is.

As he turns and hands you the cup, you take it. “Dr. Lockert.”

“Yes?”

“If you tell anyone anything about what happens here…” you lean in close, “I'll ensure your sudden disappearance goes entirely unnoticed.”

He stares wide eyed at you, nodding slowly. You take a step back and nod back at him. “Thank you.”

The doctor's words have been weighing on your mind all day. It's been hard to focus with the thought of his diagnosis plaguing you. Around Coryo, you try your best not to show your hesitation but he knows you. He can see it in your eyes, the dread.

When you get that knock at your door later that night, after all your duties, around the house and to your boss, that curling anxiety strikes you again.

You stand and walk toward the door carefully. Charlotta stands on the other side holding a tray at her side.

“Hey,” she says, her voice gentle and hardly above a whisper. “I'm going to point to something in your room. There's an envelope under the tray. It's yours.”

You nod, playing along as you look in the direction she points. You slip the white envelope from its spot in one fluid movement, careful to avoid the cameras in the hall.

When she puts the tray back down, you give her a gentle smile and nod again. You play along.

“A man came to drop this off. He said to be subtle and give it straight to you.”

“Thank you, Charlotta.” You sigh. “You've been really good to me, and it means a lot.”

She smiles, ducking her head a little. “Good night, ma'am.”

You nod. “Good night.”

She leaves you, and you close the door quietly behind her. Turning toward the bed, your heart hammers against your chest as you stare at the letter.

“It's nothing.”

You tear the envelope open in just a few moments. You don't have time to be nervous. When you pull the paper out, you take a breath, and open it.

It's a white hot kind of feeling. It's chilling and stinging all at the same time. You don't know if you need to open a window for the crisp air that lies outside or start your fireplace.

So instead you cry.

You're riddled with gasps as you place a hand over your mouth to silence them. They rack through your chest until you're breaking down onto your bed and fully sobbing. Burying your head in your knees, you let the tears fall with as little control as you can grant them.

It lasts a long time. You don't know if the crying is a result of rejection, a strange sort of acceptance, or plain fear. A little bit of both invades every sense of your being.

You absent-mindedly press a hand to your belly, like you could almost feel the hardly-there being that you hadn't known was growing within you. It aches as it brings forth another round of sobs.

You never really considered the possibility of children, before or after the Games. This world is not suited for children, and after your experience, you never wanted anything so dear to you to ever have to suffer the possibility of facing what you did.

If that wasn't enough, your child was that of Coriolanus Snow's blood. The man was a lot of things, but a father was not among the list. You could not fathom allowing a child to grow under his reign. He was not suited, and you could never allow it to happen. Not without a fight, surely.

Of course, you could get rid of it. You could keep it secret, sneak it right under his nose. Things could go back to normal, like it never happened.

But if he ever found out, he'd probably kill you. A Snow heir? Laid to waste? You cannot hope to take that from him and come off best.

You hadn't many options.

You let a monster raise your baby, or you risk your life by being freed from the burden. Your life had little value to begin with, but you could not imagine the type of creature this child would become.

You don't know what you'll do.

PART TWO: The Escape

As the door is pulled open, she is shocked to see you on the other side as she holds tight to her robes.

“Hello, Tigris,” you speak softly, pulling your large hood close to you.

She stumbles on her words as she stares in surprise. “Uh– Hi. Why are you here so late?”

You'd woken her. You can see it in the exhaustion hiding beneath the concern. It makes sense for her to be resting, it's nearly three in the morning. But you had to be sure you were being watched, you had to be sure no one would follow.

“I'm pregnant.” Her breath hitches, and you swallow thickly. “With Coriolanus’ child.”

She struggles to answer at first, blinking quickly as she shakes her head. “What?” After a moment, she seems to remember you're still at the door. She beckons you in. “Come in, come in.”

She stands to the side and sets a hand on your back when you're safely within her home. She closes the door as she brings you into the living room, starting a fire. She asks if you want tea. You decline.

You shed your coat, sitting with your legs pulled close to your person as you stare at the flickering flames she stokes to life When Tigris takes her seat across from you, you silently hand her the letter you'd received from Dr. Lockert. She reads it quickly.

It's a long time before either of you speak, still in shock from all that's happening.

“How do you feel?” She thinks it's a dumb question.

You shrug, wondering that yourself. “Scared. A little excited? Although, I think that may be the nausea. But mostly…” your breath shudders on a sigh, “fucking terrified.”

She sets the paper down on the coffee table and sets a kind hand on your knee. “What are you going to do?”

You don't look at her. It's so hard to look at her when the thoughts in your head are so muddled. There are words piled on words piles on words. So many “this” and “that”s and “wait, but this”. You stare at the fire.

“I don't want my baby…” you sigh, speaking gently, “...growing up with someone like their…their father.” The word honestly stings when you say it, but you say it anyway.

“Back at Seven, the kids who grew up there were hungry and tired… but they smiled and laughed and played, too. They were happy because they had people who loved them, even if they were poor. Here…” you wipe a hand down your face, shaking your head. “Coriolanus isn't capable of real love. I want my child to be happy. I don't want them growing up with all this money and power, but with no heart to know how to use it.”

Tigris sighs silently, looking down at her lap. She lets your words sink in, nodding gently as she whispers. “So you'll run away?”

You finally turn your gaze to see her, speaking slowly. “I have to.”

You don't want to. It's so hard already. And you don't want to leave her behind. She's the only person who's truly cared since the beginning, the only person you've ever been able to confide in.

“You could get caught and worse.”

“I know…”

Tigris unfolds the letter once more, reading the cursive on the page carefully as she thinks to herself. She stands and walks toward the fire, and you watch as she tosses the paper inside. The flames lick at it, catching fire under the strength of its heat as it curls and crumbles.

“Well, you'll need some help.”

You stare up at her, your eyes glistening as she offers her hand. You take it, giving the weakest smile as you pull her into a tight hug.

The weeks you spend planning go by far quicker than you thought they would. It's in secret visits with Tigris between errands, subtle meetings with District rogues hiding in the Capitol during parties or public gatherings that were easy to hide in. It was arranging transportation, cover ups, people who can be trusted and people who can't. And to do it all without gathering the suspicions of Coriolanus was a painstaking process.

If he ever found out what you were planning… there would be irreparable damage. For you, for your baby, for anyone involved. The idea is chilling, but not as chilling as staying behind and allowing Coriolanus to raise a tyrant in his stead, if he even accepted the child to begin with…

So when the day comes that you are to flee the Capitol… to leave behind all you've known for the life of a fugitive in the Districts, you swallow your fear and take it.

You take a deep breath as you stand before Coryo’s door. You clutch the tray in your hands and files shoved under your arm, feeling the anxiety pooling in your belly.

If everything goes right, this will be the last time you ever step foot in this office…

“Good morning, sir.”

He doesn't look up from his desk. He's already working—always working. “My flower,” serves as his only greeting as he scribbles away at his work.

You set his tray down, picking up the newspaper and setting it where he likes it: laid out flat at the left of his desk. “I have your breakfast and a few documents that need signing before I go.” You put those in front of his work. “Is there anything you need from me?”

He hums, taking the pages and setting them atop the ones he had been focused on. “Aside from our morning appointments?” He looks up at you with a small grin. “No.”

“Perfect.” Anxiety rolls in your belly. This should be the last time you ever do this…

You know how to feel. The issue is not knowing how you actually feel.

“Where do you want me, Coryo?”

Anyway you want me, baby, that's the way you got me.

You steel your jaw and straighten your spine. As you plaster a smile on your face, you let out a silent breath.

This should be the last time you ever do this… And you feel determined to make that happen.

Coryo’s grin is toxic. You can see that. It spews poison, and you're sick of drowning and letting him sicken you with it.

“Come here,” he bids, turning out of his desk the same way he'd done it that first time: his legs spread, his lips curled, his eyes dark.

You walk toward him, your movements slow and sure as you come to stand between his legs with your hands on his shoulders. His own land on your waist, and it's such a warm feeling. But you can't let him distract you. Or you'll become intoxicated once more.

And it's a slippery slope from there.

He stays silent as he watches you, his hands stroking your sides, pulling you in close. He wraps an arm around you, guiding you to straddle his lap.

Even with his toxicity, you can't deny his beauty. Though that's usually how it goes, isn't it? The prettier the snake, the deadlier the venom.

“You are…absolutely radiant this morning, my darling.”

You almost fall for it. It's hard not to, he knows what honey to pour in your ears.

You're almost sure it's subconscious, the way you lift your hand and brush his pale hair from his face. God, his eyes are so pretty. Baby blue, twinkling with such pretty stars—stars you know are all a farce for the purpose of deceit. He's spent a lot of time crafting them, but you know what they really are.

Snowflakes.

Beauties made of pure perfection…but entirely cold and unfeeling. If you get enough of them, trillions and trillions and trillions on trillions, trillions more than that still…you freeze in the bite of the frost.

And if you stay, you'll turn to ice.

“Thank you, Coryo.” You drop your hand to his chin, tilting his head back just a slight before you lean in to kiss him.

The lust is immediate. There's never been any reason for easing into them. As usual, it's fast, it's biting, it's a game.

Who will break first?

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, grinding your hips into his lap. A light grunt falls from him, but he remains unbeaten. He grabs your hips and moves them himself. He knows your body well, even better than you, and it doesn't surprise you anymore.

His growing erection rubs against your clit, and your breath hitches, though you don't pull away. His hands snake underneath your skirt, pushing it higher and higher up the length of your thighs until he's got you exposed. When he's clawing at your panties, you have to remove them yourself before he does it for you.

By the time his hand is cupping your cunt, you're already wet for him. It's like clockwork. His lips and his fingers and his skin against yours make you so weak, all you can do is comply.

You long for the day where it's not so easy as pressing a button. You long for the day where he can ring a bell, and your mouth won't begin to water…

He slips his fingers past the seam of your lips, and your breath shudders. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in as you nuzzle your face there.

“So wet for me, aren't you?” he purrs. His lips curl, “Such a perfect thing, you are.”

You melt against his praise, so used to the coin toss between his honey sweet words and his hollowing insults.

“All for you,” you whisper into his ear, taking his lobe between your teeth with a gentle tug. You know he likes it. Just as he knows your body, you know his. If he's going to have you melting in his arms, you'll have him melting in yours.

You aren't on the same level, but you can pretend to be.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of you, torturously slow in his movements. Biting down hard on your lips, you fumble with his belt as you make quick work of undoing it all. He's half-hard when you take him in your palm and stroke the length of him, matching his tempo as his breath shudders with yours.

“Such a good girl,” he mumbles, clenching his teeth at the way you flick your wrist. His fingers pick up within you, massaging such a deep part within you as you grind against his hand, begging for more. You return the favor, jerking your fist roughly along him, wanting—needing more and more.

When the lust becomes too much, and you can feel the other's release growing nearer and nearer without the escalation of true sex, he pulls his hands from you and you huff needily. “Fuck,” you stutter out, pausing your own hand as his precum sticks to your thumb.

Coryo bids you to look at him as he dips his finger between his lips, sucking your arousal from them with a cocky spark in his eyes as he hums. You do nothing but kiss him back when he pushes his lips against yours, your movements as rough and as fast as his own. The taste of yourself on his tongue is intoxicating. It has you both moaning into each other's mouths, needing so badly to devour the other.

Coryo grabs your wrist, stopping your hand as you gasp at him. His eyes stay locked on you as he uses your hand to guide the head of his cock to your wet lips. Your eyes flutter when you sink down on him, letting out a long breath as your legs tremble.

Through his puffs, he smiles. “Look at you, so beautiful,” he murmurs.

You lock your arms around his neck, holding him close to you. It’s always good with him, this drunken, numbing feeling he gives you whenever he touches you. You crave it so much that you’ve convinced yourself in your entirety that you need it, him, everything he has to offer. It doesn’t matter how cruel he can be, his poison is a chemical in your brain that tells you it’s always worth it for this.

You roll your hips in his lap as his lips graze the skin of your neck. Your quick, fevered movements, so full of a craven kind of lust, make it difficult to set a steady pace. You ride him, and you do it with everything you have. This will be the last time you touch him—the last time he touches you. He’s terrible, he’s a horrible beast of a man that you wish nothing more than to escape, but you will always crave him—his horror, his bloodlust—somewhere deep within you.

His claws dig into your skin, rolling your hips. You’ve rubbed off on him, fueling that lingering primal urge that wants to push you to the ground and take you like an animal. That’s all you are. That’s all you’ll ever be.

“Fuck, you’re so lovely, my flower,” he purrs in your ear, encouraging a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you, Coryo.” You’re breathless, barely holding on by a thread—especially when the pad of his thumb finds your sensitive clit. You’ve been so sensitive lately. He likes it.

His hips cant into you, just as close to tipping over as you are as you grip one another, you searching for his relief and him searching for his own. He circles his thumb faster, he loves to cum with you because you get so tight.

You whimper, feeling tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you try to will them away. “Coryo,” you sigh. “I’m close…”

“Come on, little thing. You can cum for me,” he bids, and you almost snap at that moment.

Rolling your hips in his lap, you hold on tightly to him as a thread in your belly tightens and tightens. He's more insistent, reaching for his own end in the sparks of his nearing release.

He flicks his thumb, and you break apart. Burying your face in his neck, a whimper—which more resembles a sob—shudders from your chest as you dissolve into him. “F-Fuck, Coryo,” you mewl, grinding a little harder into his lap.

You clench down around him, and a rough groan tears from his throat as his other hand sinks into your sides. His heavy breath is fast and deep in your ear, rare praises fall from his lips. It's all heat and rush and flooding pleasure as you're both sent on a high to last the day. For you, a high that will come crashing down for, quote possibly, the rest of your life.

But until then, Coryo feels good, so you feel good.

He spills inside of you, and you soak it all in. You soak it all in because, after all of this is over and you're sent back into this cold and hungry world, this is a part of him that will be all you'll have left.

Your arms tighten around him even more, willing the sparks of your pleasure to shoot just a little longer. You will away the tears threatening to spill. He surely does not deserve them. You do not deserve them.

With a steadying sigh, you pull away from him. Coryo looks at you with lust blown eyes, his breath leveling once again as he stares at you. He doesn't say anything for a while, he just stares.

He raises a hand to a strand of your hair between two fingers. He sighs shortly. “You're beautiful.”

You hold your breath. You don't mean to, but his praises have an effect on you that you hope you'll shed in the time to come. They play over and over and over again in your brain. My flower, my darling, so good and radiant and beautiful. So beautiful.

You swallow thickly. “Thank you,”you whisper, brushing hair from his face to take a long look into his twinkling eyes.

Snowflakes.

It is not time to freeze.

You kiss him, a deep and dark kiss that you hope will sustain you so you no longer need another. It's almost as if he knows, as if he is aware of your plane to flee. With the way he kisses you, so possessive with the intention to conquer, he must know.

But you pull away, catching your breath once more as you hoist yourself from his lap. You clean up in silence. And the silence is sobering.

As you retrieve the stack of documents needing intending to, you make your way to the door. And you linger. You don’t mean to do it, but you do. You stand there and think, over this and that, over everything that’s ever happened or will happen or won’t ever happen.

You don’t want to leave.

Coriolanus’ pull is so strong. It sucks you in, it urges you to stay within the comfort of his cold eyes. You turn, taking in the sight of him. He sits back in his chair, his attention already turned to his work. He is a sight to see, basking in the glory of a deceiving pale light. And then there are the roses. Those damned roses, frosted in flakes of snow.

He glances up at you, raising a curious brow. “Forgetting something?” His voice washes over you like honey. You have to remember it’s a front. His voice is not sweet honey, it’s bitter sap.

You shake your head. “No.”

You stare some more. How could you leave this man? When he is so beautiful…

Your lips part, an unspoken question on the tip of your tongue that you nearly blurt in your haste to find any reason to go…or stay.

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

He watches you for a long time, saying nothing. His pale eyes take you in, but they’re so cold. They’ve always been cold. He’s contemplating something. But it isn’t the silence that convinces you.

“Of course,” he admits. And you believe him, in a way. You believe him, and you look into his eyes and see…snowflakes. Billions and billions and billions of snowflakes. They’re so beautiful, just like him—you can already see your breath in the air.

You smile, your hand tightening on the threshold. As you nod his way, accepting him for what he is, you let go of it. “Thank you,” you say. You take a step back, crossing a barrier where the world outside of his office eases the gooseflesh that had risen in the chill of his winter. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Mhm.”

And you stand there, lingering. Already passed the threshold with nothing more to do than turn away. All you have to do is leave.

You never thought you’d find it so difficult to leave.

It's not as hard to remain inconspicuous as one might think in the Capitol.

Your dark glasses hide your face, your expensive robes cover your clothes, you're wearing a dark hood over your head that keeps identity more or less sealed.

But the fashion of the Capitol is so obnoxious that you're not the only one on the street dressed like this. You stride down the pavement, passing building after building on your way to the train station. It's heavily monitored by Peacekeeper grunts. Your heart is pounding in your chest at the idea of being caught.

Inside the station, it's freezing cold. You wrap your robes a little tighter around you in the hopes of preserving some heat in the shivering air.

You glance toward the hall past the receptionist desk, taking in a breath as you square your shoulders and begin to walk over.

“Ma'am?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you will it to slow so you can think straight. Without sharing your anxiety, you turn to her with a hum. “Yes?” you ask with a tired sigh.

“You can't go back there without confirmation.” You swear you almost pass out when you see her lift her hand, gesturing to a Peacekeeper grunt to step forward. You hear the heavy thump of his footsteps, and it matches the heavy thump of your panic in your throat.

Steeling your nerves and straightening your spine, you answer, “I have confirmation.”

“Let me see.”

Part of you realizes now that you have, in fact, been too much around Coriolanus. You have to remind yourself that most of this is an act as you sneer at her and her tone, walking straight toward her desk.

You open the bag slung over your shoulder, tearing out documentation signed with the name Coriolanus Snow in elegant scripture. You watch her eyes widen, the name striking something in her heart as she clears her throat and nods. With a huff, you collect the paper and turn away to continue your venture.

You’d been holding onto that for a while as one of the things you had Coryo sign within his stack of important documents. You’re just glad you’d had the foresight as you strut down the hall, past the receptionist desk, past the offices, past the closets, all the way down to the exit door at the end. There's a large shed in the back, filled with crates and storage units and all the stuff they don't want to put in the station.

As you push open the door, looking around nervously, you feel like maybe this isn't such a good idea (as though that thought hadn't been bouncing around your head for the past few weeks). It’s so dark, weighed down with a heavy gloom that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You grind your teeth, clenching the strap of your bag between your fists as you steady your beating heart.

What if it’s a trap? What if he knew what you were planning all along and now he was here to collect you, punish you, kill you? Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, scared to announce yourself, to give yourself away.

Your focus shifts immediately at the slightest sound of someone’s soft boot against the floor. You feel your hands flex for something, anything you can use to defend yourself. You’re almost disgusted by the second-natured pull it has—the basic instinct that had been torn out of you during the Games.

It takes a moment, but you notice the second figure stepping out after you and release a sigh. Your fingers relax just a bit, feeling the slightest bit of tension as it slips out of you. “Tigris,” you sigh.

She goes to you, wrapping her arms immediately around your neck and pulling you in. There’s a weight there that both eases you and urges you to hold on tighter. This will be the last time you ever see her…

Tigris pulls away, though her hands are still firmly on your arms. “Did you get here safe? No one saw you?”

“I don’t think so,” you say, removing your hood and your glasses to unveil yourself. “Pretty sure I look like any other highborn schmuck in this place.”

The first figure, a woman you have yet to be acquainted to, steps forward for you to see. Her face is stern, it betrays no softness as she scans you. Her eyes are dark, her hair is darker. She's got tanned skin and a muscular build that you'd see on the ones from your home, or perhaps even District Two. She's a little older than you, an inch taller. She’s dressed as one of the workers here, her uniform as standard as the rest of them, her brown hair tied back in a tight bun.

“We have to be quick,” she says. “The train leaves in ten minutes.”

You let go of Tigris, schooling your expression to be just as hard as her own as you look her over. “Who are you?”

“Your only ticket out of here,” she says. “My name is Josephine, and from now on, you answer to me.”

You raise a brow. “I’m getting real tired of answering to people.” Is that not the whole reason you’re here?

She matches your expression with no patience for your reluctance. “Do you want to get out of this alive?”

You look at Tigris, then at Josephine. With a sigh, you glance down and nod, “Yes.”

She hums. “Then you do as I say when I say it. Otherwise, you screw us all. Do you understand?” You nod. “Good.”

She turns and starts walking further into the shed. You follow her, Tigris walking next to you as she leads you to a large crate. “You’re going to get in here, and I’m going to seal it. Don’t worry about suffocating, you’ll be fine. I’m going to wheel you out with the rest of the cargo, and we’re both getting on that train. Until we reach our first District, you stay in the crate. Silent. Do you understand?”

You nod. She smiles. “Say your goodbyes.” She begins to stack two other crates onto a large cart, leaving you to each other.

She’s crying. It’s the first thing you notice when you look at her. When you feel her arms wrap around you again, you let yourself be wrapped in her. She holds you tight, with a lot more strength than you would have thought her to have. You bury your face in her neck, letting out a slow, trembling breath in an attempt to keep yourself level.

“Please be careful,” she says, her grip just as tight as before.

“You, too.” You pull away regretfully, squeezing her arms with all the worry in your chest. “Don’t get hurt because of me.”

She raises a hand to cup your cheek. “I will be fine.” Glancing over at Josephine, waiting patiently by an open crate, cushioned inside only by a seat of hay. To look less suspicious, you imagine. “I think you’re in good hands.”

You nod, resisting the urge to hug her again as you feel your hand absent-mindedly reaching for your belly. You swallow thickly. “Goodbye, Tigris.”

She squeezes your hands twice. “Bye.”

There’s plenty left unsaid, only you don’t know what any of it is, you just know it’s put to rest.

With a sigh, Tigris pulls away from you, turning away and disappearing from the shed and from your life.

You turn toward Josephine and nod. Climbing into the crate isn’t difficult. You throw your leg over the side and hoist the rest of your body in. When you’re safely sat inside, Josephine gives you one last look before she’s sealing you in, trapping you with nothing but the slightest slivers of light from the breaks in the wood and the holes at the top. The banging of nails is loud, unyielding, it sets every nerve on edge as she locks you inside.

“It will be a long ride to Nine,” she says. “Just sit tight and stay silent, alright?”

You nod, feeling as though your breath is too loud and your voice isn’t loud enough. “Okay.”

You’re shrouded in darkness when she throws a large drape over all the crates, and you almost startle when you feel it move underneath you. You hold your knees close to your chest and try not to hold your breath as the loud squeaking of opening doors fills your ears.

When you hear voices surrounding you—people boarding the train, Peacekeepers barking orders to passengers and workers and other grunts—it all feels so surreal. And terrifying. It’s terrifying. This isn’t going to work. It would be too easy—all things considered. You’re going to get found out, and you’re going to be sent back to Coryo, and he’s going to have you killed.

You decide it’s time to stop thinking.

The crates stop, and you think you were right all along. Then you feel yourself being weighed back all the way to one side and realize that you’re just being loaded into the freight car.

And after a long, long while filled with nothing but distant voices and more cargo and more footsteps and slamming doors, a loud horn is sounded into the air.

And the train begins to move.

Everything is sore.

The crate rattles and clatters around you. Your back throbs harshly from the uncomfortable position you've held for the better half of the last day, your stomach is growling from the lack of food, your behind is aching, and there's a sweltering heat in the air, worsened by the small space.

It's hard to focus on anything when you hear the sounds of people on the street and birds in the sky and squealing wheels and horse hooves on cobblestone. You brace your hands on the walls enclosing you in the space.

You try to look through the cracks of the crate at what is around you. All you can see are the fleeting sights of people bustling through a busy street. It reminds you of the marketplace back in your home district. You can smell stale bread and animal shit and something else, and it makes you want to vomit.

Your concept of time is a little dull by the time the scene has completely changed. You think it's been about thirty minutes, and you're surrounded by the sounds of the wheels moving on top of dirt and the snorts of horses. You can still smell horse shit, so that hasn't changed, but there's the smell of fresh grass and something else to accompany it.

The wagon comes to a stop.

As though you have much of a choice, you huddle in on yourself as you hear heavy footsteps rounding to the back of the wagon to unload the crates next to you. Your crate is grabbed, and you try to stay quiet as you slap a hand over your mouth.

You hear the slight groaning of people lifting your crate, and you panic in trying to stay still as you're wobbling around. They carry you away from the wagon, and you just hope to whatever’s hearing you that these are the good guys.

After a moment, you're put down unceremoniously. There's a pause, then the sound of something metal, and then the top is being pried open by a crowbar. Your heart hammers in your chest, your breath kicks up to a million, and you feel like your brain is about to explode.

The lid comes off with a loud crack!. The face peering in on you is unfamiliar, but it doesn't seem surprised to see you. You don't move just staring back at him before he's backing away as well.

Then you see Josephine. She gives you a reassuring look that helps to calm some of your stress. A hand instinctively falls to your belly as you feel your heart slow just a pinch. She holds a hand out for you. You reach out and take it.

When you stand, you look around at where you are. The glaring sun isn't beating down anymore, but that doesn't change the fact that you're sweating, and you'll probably continue to sweat.

You're in a barn house. It's a nice size, big enough for a large family. There are corn husks and pieces of stalk and leaves all over the floor. There are tools and more tools and more crates and all the necessary items for a barn house (with more emphasis on the barn part than there is on the house part).

You take in the sight of the people surrounding you. There are quite a few, all with a varying amount of emotions across their faces. You swallow thickly, glancing at Josephine for some support. You don't know her well, but she's the only one you're sure is your friend (in the rather loose meaning of the word).

“Everyone,” she says, coming up to stand next to you as she addresses the people in the room. They watch you as they listen to her. There's a boy with brown hair and freckles younger than you, not quite a child but not yet a man. There's a woman older than Josephine with a few gray hairs on her dirty blonde head. Before you're done examining everyone, Josephine’s talking again. “Meet our newest guest.”

“No fucking way.”

Your head snaps to the voice who'd just spoken. You can see a woman your age, skin dark and hair short. There's a type of resentment in her eyes that you are not new to. She looks extremely upset by the sight of you, and you think ‘Great. More people who hate me.’

There's a guy standing next to her. He looks really similar, a brother, maybe. His hair is short like hers, he's much taller. His face, though, isn't as thoroughly repulsed than hers so you think maybe there's hope.

“What is she doing here?” He addresses Josephine directly. “Is this why you didn't tell us who it was?”

“She's fled the Capitol,” she states firmly, reaffirming her positions as the apparent leader. “Our job is to harbor people in need of shelter. She is one of them.”

“Why should we help her?” the woman asks spitefully, looking away from you like you hadn't even existed a moment ago. “What has she done for us, huh?”

They're speaking around you. You don't like that they're speaking around you, like you aren't even there. Something itches inside of you, something that should have dissolved a long time ago that you still find poking around when people aren't taking you seriously.

“Calm down, Via,” her brother says, turning to with an almost exasperated look. At least now you know this isn't an exclusive reaction, though it may be a specialized one.

Josephine’s eyes stay focused on this “Via” character as she speaks. There's an authority in her voice that is undeniable. “It's fine, Vincent.” She pauses like she's giving her rebellious subordinate a silent warning. “She's one of us. We protect our own.”

It's so strange to hear that. “One of us.” Like you're actually part of something, and not some “other” option that no longer belongs to a people anymore. You're so used to the insults: scum, filth, animal, murderer, something that's so worthless to a person's time and energy. Even from your own master, you are—you were—nothing but a pet. Just an animal.

Now you are, apparently, one of them.

Not everyone feels the same way.

“She's not one of us. Not anymore. She's Capitol now.” She turns to you, disgust curling her otherwise pretty features. “Look how she dresses, look how she stands, listen to how she talks.” She makes this scoffing sound. Your hands turn to clenched fists, and an anger seethe within you at this treatment that you hoped would start to dim with the start of your new life on the run. There's so much disdain for you in the things that she says, and you're sick of hearing it.

“She may have been District once, but now?” She shakes her head, raising a finger to point at you. “That's Capitol trash.”

That makes you snap. You don't mean to do it. After years of biting your tongue just to keep your head, after years of being conditioned to take these insults as you try to scrape your life together into something sufferable, being slapped in the face with them by someone who's supposedly on your side (who's supposedly “one of us”) isn't something you can keep down.

It spills like molten lava from a volcano. There's nothing fast about it, nothing striking. It burns your mouth and your chest and everywhere that it's been festering. It spews, but it moves so slowly and so softly that the lethargy is easily mistaken for a weakness, rather than this corrosive thing that's been eating you up for so much time.

“You don't understand what it was like.” Your throat burns as you try to keep it down.

She looks at you with spiteful amusement, as if to say, “It talks!”

“How what was like?” She raises a brow and pulls her voice slow to cut deep. “Being his little pet? His slut?”

The initial explosion comes in short spurts. Your mouth is hot as it forms around the words, words that are so unhelpful that they just continue to burn your tongue.

“He made me.” Flashes of Coriolanus flit through your mind. His smirk is embedded deep in the fabric of your thinking, his lips melding against your skin and his teeth sinking into the flesh are committed to memory.

She's unconvinced. “But you were happy to do it, weren't you?” She steps closer, and Vincent follows hesitantly, as if to ensure she doesn't do something stupid (or to back her up if you decide on something stupid). “You lived in the lap of luxury while the Districts suffered and funded your little paradise.”

“Volivia.” “Via.” Both Vincent and Josephine speak at the same time in an attempt to rein her in.

“No, it's fine.” You shake your head, taking a moment to choose your words. You lick your bottom lip in thought. “For a time, yes, I did enjoy myself.”

She scoffs and gestures toward you with an I-told-you-so look plastered on her face. “Like I said,” she spits. “She's a Capitol slut.”

Your voice raises a smidgen when you speak again, but you try to refrain. You almost don't realize your tactic, the way you speak, the way you try to establish yourself. It's written like Snow.

“Snow sought me out after the Games.” You take a breath, closing your eyes to center yourself. “I was alone and hungry and a lot of people in my District hated me for what I had to do during the Games. They threw rotted food at my house, they stole the food sent to me from the Capitol that I was going to donate most of anyway. I wasn't even allowed into some places because they hated me so much.”

You push past the bile rising in your throat, remembering the way everyone used to look at you. Friends who'd known you for years, who'd known your parents, who you'd practically grown up with turned on you just for “winning”.

“Some understood but no one wanted to risk being turned on by everyone else, not that I blame them for that. People need to eat… So I was really…alone.”

You sigh sparingly, like you're conserving air like rations. “Snow found me and offered me a contract—a spot in the Capitol where I could have a chance to be happy, as long as I became his assistant.” You swallow thickly. “And I agreed.”

Volivia isn't easily persuaded. “And it was so bad going to all those parties? Getting served fine wine and fancy foods?”

The fatigue gnaws at you. “You know, everyone thinks the Capitol is so sophisticated, but they always forget that I was still District.” Your blood begins to boil in your veins, thick like lava as you think of everything you've been slapped with. “They insulted me, and they laughed at me. Some spat at me on the street if they were so inclined.”

You wince. You hadn't meant to word it like that. Volivia wasn't entirely wrong when she said you were basically Capitol. You don't have Capitol blood in your veins, but you've got some of their nerves in your brain, and that's hard to wash out.

“I wasn't much better until Snow gave enough threats that they were forced to stop. You wanna know why I'm so much like Capitol now? Why does a possum play dead? Why do children in the Games kill other children?” No one speaks. “To survive.” It's always about survival. “I spent six years with them, how could I not conform?”

A softer voice speaks, the freckled boy you'd first seen when you arrived. He seems a little shy, if not curious. He tilts his head, speaking tentatively. “What about Snow?”

You look down at your feet. Images of him flash behind your eyes again, but you pretend they don't. Thinking about him won't summon the man, so you don't understand why it feels like it will.

It takes a while for you to garner the courage to reply. He waits patiently, hoping he hasn't offended you.

“My first month there,” you lick your lip, “I spent just getting used to running his errands. I was still so new, and I didn't want to disappoint him because I was afraid he would do something bad to me.” He glances down at his hands.

“But he called for me one night, and I came…” You screw your eyes shut, keeping them that way as you try to say these next words. “I came and he told me to get on my knees.”

A mixture of emotions runs through everyone. Most avert their eyes and look sort of awkward, offering silent sympathies or simply trying not to impose on your unease.

But Volivia will not be persuaded that easily to your side. “Please–”

“One night, I made the mistake of thinking we were on the same level when he threw me to the ground and told me I was nothing but District scum, whose only job now was to please and serve him.” She doesn't speak. “He called me an animal and a whore and told me that I belonged to him, made sure I wouldn't forget it, too. So your insults aren't really hurting me. They're just pissing me off.”

There's a little less venom when Volivia speaks again, but she still isn't kind. She can't let you know that you've affected her. You don't blame her. You would've done the same.

“That doesn't mean we should help you,” she argues almost weakly. “You signed a contract, you knew what you were getting yourself into. You left the Districts behind to become the enemy.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, guess what?” You throw your hands in the air, frustration at the both of you for prolonging this so much. “I'm a goddamn idiot who didn't read the fine print.” You take a step forward. Everyone reacts, but no one moves.

“Do you know what my contract said?” She raises a brow. “If I disobeyed Snow for any reason, he would drop me back at Seven and put my name back into the raffle a hundred times over so I was sure to go back to the Games.” You shudder at the thought. The very idea of going back to the arena is haunting.

You start to feel physically sick. As you imagine yourself running through that arena, your blood pumps through your veins and it itches so much that you think you’d break skin if you started scratching. Your muscles jerk, urging you to move as you stare into Volivia’s eyes. She’s staring at you, glaring. When you look down at her hands, her fists are clenched.

She’s going to hurt you. Don’t just stand there. Run! You swallow thickly. It’s all in your head. Run or you’ll die! Your heart hammers in your chest. You don’t think you can breathe. Go, now!

You close your eyes shut. You’re hit with an immediate wave of regret. Images of blood and gore, the sounds of screams and raging shouts fill your ears.

“I can’t–” You catch yourself. Swallowing thickly, you open your eyes and see her again. There’s something there, not quite confusion, not quite fear anymore. Your voice wavers as you speak quietly. “I can’t do that a second time. I can’t go through that again. The things we did, I…”

You take a step back. It gives away your power, but you can’t bring yourself to care yet. You keep your back straight, keeping your eyes open and focused. Do not show fear. They’ll smell it off of you. And you will die.

“We were just children.” She had red hair, like fire. It stuck out like a sore thumb. His was like night, but he just wasn’t quiet enough. “My games had the most number of tributes under 14 years old than we’ve ever had.” She was dark, he had freckles, she had two tones, he was sick, so was she.

You’d been able to shove it all down for so long, you almost thought you’d forgotten it all. He was so afraid of the dark. And he was so funny, so they cut out his tongue. And she–

“Do you remember their names?”

You turn toward the freckled boy. He’s really sweet. He reminds you of Willard, who had the kindest smile, even as the light was leaving his eyes.

“I remember…” you lick your lips. “I remember their names. I remember how they died, when they died. And I remember how sweet some of them were before they rang the bell.”

You feel childish, standing there and saying everything that you’re saying. It feels wrong, it feels like a sad attempt at sympathy. But you don’t want sympathy, you just want peace. You want to go to a land far, far away where you can forget everything. Where you can sleep without his eyes, their screams, their scowls.

“I would have done anything not to go back. That includes being a whore.” You focus a hard glare at Volivia, walking toward her again until you’re practically toe to toe. “So, yeah, I fucked Coriolanus Snow, but if you went through what I had to go through, there are a lot of things you would do to avoid that arena.”

She stares silently at you, a hard expression on her face battling her own conflictions.

On one hand, you represent everything a District citizen should not be (in her eyes at least). You were too well-spoken, too well-dressed. You smelled like expensive perfume, you kept a posture stiff as a board. Your hands are rough but your nails are pristine.

On the other, as she sees now…you bleed District blood; thick, dirty, and pumped straight from the heart. Even though you talk like money, you huff and bark and claw like an animal. You show her you’re dangerous by bucking up. You don’t waste your time with threats.

Volivia looks you up and down, licks her bottom lip, and steps away. You release a tiny breath. The tension in the barn house feels a little easier.

Vincent walks forward, gently grabbing Volivia’s arm and pulling her back to his side. “I’m sorry,” he says. He offers a small smile, a peace offering. “You’ve been through a lot.”

You sigh, relaxing enough to ease the pain in your back, your feet, your head. “I just want to lay down.”

Josephine reasserts herself. “You’re welcome here. Make yourself at home,” she says. “Vincent. Can you take care of her?”

“Yeah.” He tilts his head to the side, motioning for you to join him. “Come on.” You look between him and his sister and begin to walk forward. Volivia huffs, moving forward and shoving past you with the harsh brush of your shoulders.

She grabs a shovel from its leaning place on a wall, turning back to you and shoving it into your chest. “We’re not freeloaders,” she says. “Wherever we go, we work. Until you get too big to help anyone, you’ll be working, too.”

She turns to storm away, balled fists, scowled face, and all. She pauses as she gets to Josephine. “Who knows? Maybe she’ll use that shovel to dig our graves.” In the next moment, she’s throwing open the doors and leaving you all to gawk.

Josephine gives Vincent a look, and he just sighs and gestures once again for you to follow him. Josephine follows Volivia out of the barn.

You walk next to him as he leads you toward a flight of stairs. “Ignoring Via, we can’t risk letting you out of here so soon. You’ll have to lay low, so you’ll stay in the barn until we’re sure it’s safe.”

He leads you to the open attic. There’s still hay everywhere, still tools and loaded sacks and crates and the like. But there are shabby beds with shabby sheets, enough to fit one more.

“You’ll sleep up here.” He looks around the room, and then scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry for the lack of hospitality.”

You shake your head. “It’s perfect. All I need is a bed.”

He nods, doing a once-over of the room. “There will always be someone here to watch over you and make sure you’re safe. But, on the off-chance that someone we don’t know comes by, you hide in here.” He walks toward the small window. Underneath it is a bench that lines the wall. It’s stacked with crates and sacks and whatever else. He moves some sacks onto the floor and lifts the seat, revealing a small nook big enough for a single person to safely hide. “Just stack some empty sacks on top of yourself. You should be safe—it’s worked before.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m happy to help,” he smiles. There’s a moment of awkwardness. “I’m Vincent. Downstairs was my sister, Volivia. Before you ask—yes, we’re twins. I’m sorry about her hostility. She gets in trouble a lot with Peacekeepers so nothing scares her too much.”

You almost chuckle. You had your fair of arguments with Peacekeeper grunts before you were pulled from the raffle. The ones in your District were glad when you were chosen. It only meant less trouble for them. “It’s okay. I understand.” You look away. “I would have been the same way if someone like me showed up unannounced.”

You see him move out of the corner of your eyes. Though your instincts have dulled a bit during your time in the Capitol, the movement still makes you flinch a little. He’s sure to move extra slow as he sets a hand on your shoulder. “You’re safe here.”

You nod, taking a short breath. “Thank you, Vincent.”

Vincent hums. “Your bed’s right there. I’ll let you rest.”

When he descends the steps, the breath you let out deflates your whole body. You head toward the bed, sitting down slowly to keep it from falling apart underneath you. You lay down to rest your head on the pillows and bid your eyes to close.

There’s a strange feeling in being so far from him. You don’t feel…free. You feel like there’s a string (or a rope) wrapped around your neck, tying you to him still. It’s a loose bond, but it’s ever-present. It feels almost inevitable, this binding holding you to him.

Still, you try to urge yourself that it’s entirely fictional. There is no rope. There’s no chain. You made it up. You made it up to feel safe, controlled, tethered to the ground and not lost somewhere in the depths of absolute insanity.

You made it out. Everything will be okay.

PART THREE: Luxury

It’s been two months.

They kept you locked inside for a couple weeks before they felt safe enough to have you participate in chores. Volivia was pleased to have you start working. She was starting to call you a freeloader. Vincent did his best to make you feel welcomed, despite his sister’s hostility.

Josephine has been very accommodating, but she’s firm. It’s more grounding than it should be. There’s someone still in charge of you. Where you would have felt fatigued by the constant inferiority, you welcome it with silent gratitude. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know how you would have done this on your own—you could have managed to survive well enough, but complete freedom isn’t as wonderful as some people make it out to be.

Gylan’s become important to you. You don’t know what it is. Maybe your mind is preparing you for a child by making you feel too protective over this boy, but you don’t care too much.

Which is a lie. You do care. Because if you care too much and you lose him, how are you to cope with that? At any moment, it could all come crashing down. Coriolanus is cunning. He’ll find you. He’ll find you, and he’ll hurt you, and he’ll make sure you can never betray him again.

That said, you haven’t been very optimistic. Gylan helps with that.

Every day has been the same. Wake up, get dressed, do your chores (which range from doing house duties to feeding the horses to shucking corn—it's a corn field—or whatever else there is to do), eat, go to bed. It’s tedious but it’s honest work. Sure, the bed is shitty, the food is some corn recipe with stale bread on the side most days, and your body hurts all the time, and you're constantly tired, but it feels nice to do something other than run around the Capitol just to have people dismiss you with wishes it is not your duty to perform.

At least here, you’re doing something to help. A lot of this food goes to the Capitol, but what isn’t used for that goes to the Districts.

You’ve begun to show a bit. There’s a little bump on your belly that you find yourself massaging sometimes. It’s never conscious. But it’s comforting.

Gylan asked what you thought you wanted to name the baby. You just shrugged and made a joke about naming them after him if you turn out to have a boy. He laughed, a really excited laugh. It’s refreshing, seeing someone so happy, especially all the way out here in District area.

Vincent has been appointed as your bodyguard—though you’re pretty sure he appointed himself your bodyguard to make up for his sister’s attitude. You don’t mind it either way. When he isn’t working, he’s by you ensuring that you’re okay. While you would normally find the constant company draining, he’s very good at avoiding it.

Sometimes it’s unnerving, being around Vincent. He’s very sweet, you don’t wonder about that, but…there’s something about him that confuses you. Gauging his thoughts is hard sometimes.

Volivia is less confusing to you. You’ve tried your best to avoid her. But it’s a small barn. She hasn’t been overly bitter; although she’s no sweetheart. She doesn’t insult you, but there are some backhanded compliments here and there. You appreciate her effort not to target you.

Sometimes you can’t breathe.

Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air, like you’re being buried alive. It’s quiet enough that you usually don’t wake anyone. You don’t know why this happens. Even before, your nightmares were obvious to you. These…they’re much different. It feels like you’re suffocating.

Maybe he drugged you. Or maybe it’s some sort of device planted into your brain. He put it there so that you wouldn’t get a moment of peace when you’re not with him.

But then you realize that’s paranoid and insane.

“Get upstairs now.”

You’re startled by his tone. You wince when you stick your finger with the needle you’d been sticking through the fabric in your hands. Gylan had a tear in one of his shirts from when one of the horses gnawed on it that you were fixing.

“What’s happening?” you ask, putting your stuff down to stand. There’s a hint of fear in your voice that you try to keep away.

Vincent grabs your arm, though he’s gentler than you expected as he pulls you up the stairs with him. Volivia is picking up your tools, throwing them into some crate to discard. There can’t be any evidence of your presence. She’s less patient than her brother, but you’re not upset by that. “There’s no time. Just go.”

You both move quickly up the stairs. He opens the cupboard for you, taking out all the sacks for you to get inside. When you’re inside, he sets them over you and ensures you aren’t seen. “Don’t make a sound.”

You hold your breath.

Loud footsteps are heard downstairs after the door opens with a force that could only come from a Peacekeeper. You would be shaking if the adrenaline coursing through you wasn’t so familiar. You treat it like the Games because it is. He’s hunting you. You have to be silent.

There’s talking downstairs that you don’t understand. It sounds like mumbling, and you can’t even try to focus on it over the loud beating of your heart. You take in a slow, silent breath, hold it, and let it out just as quietly as you took it. You feel a little less like you’re dying.

The heavy footfalls of soldiers come up the stairs. You close your eyes and remain as calm as you can, listening to all the different sets of feet as they come.

“You got anything up here?”

Volivia’s is the voice who answers. She sounds pissed, more than usual. “We’re farmers. What the hell do we have to hide?”

A set of boots scuff on the floor when someone stops. It sounds so close to you. You think you’d be mistaken for a statue if you were discovered, you’re so still. “Just answer the question.”

“No.” That’s Gylan. You almost lose all your calm worrying about him. But he’ll be fine. He’s supposed to be here.

You hear the Peacekeepers start to throw things around. You hear mattresses lift off of weak wooden bed frames and fall to the floor. You hear heavy sacks of tools hit the floor with a loud clatter, anticipating the harsh bruising that’s to come from it. Someone beats on the nook next to you. You’re so startled, you jump with the slightest movement. It’s just small enough that you don’t draw any attention to yourself.

They keep kicking them, not hard, just enough to see if they can hear anything. Your heart is running wild. You can hear it pulsing in your brain.

Everything is still. Silent. You could hear a pin drop (or, perhaps, even your heart hammering in your chest).

“We hear anything about this again…” there’s the sound of a heavy boot, “and we’ll burn this place to the ground.”

You don’t know what happened. All you hear is Vincent saying Volivia’s nickname like he’s warning her. You’re supposing she bites her tongue, because nothing else is said.

After a moment, the heavy boots retreat. But you’re not immediately retrieved. You think you’re hiding in that cupboard for another five or ten minutes before someone finally comes to get you. It’s Gylan. He looks extremely worried, but he’s putting on a brave face for you. It’s sweet, but you don’t want him to have to do it.

“Josephine is on her way,” he says, helping you out.

Vincent is gathering things. “Pack your stuff, only light essentials. We have to get out today.” He comes up to you, passing over an empty sack. (You’re getting tired of seeing sacks.) You grab it, but he doesn’t let go yet. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle and his eyes just as much. You nod. He lingers there for a moment, making sure, and then turns away to continue packing.

“Where are we going?” you ask as you start to pack some clothes.

“I don’t know,” Vincent replies. “It’s better not to say until we get there anyway.”

Josephine returns half an hour later. She’s carrying a bag over her shoulders that she hands off to Vincent. He passes his own back to her, looking up the stairs where you wait with Gylan. He’s telling you about which Districts he’d been to since he joined Josephine when Volivia’s calling you both down. You both grab your things and follow.

“We won’t take the train this time,” Josephine says. “It’s too risky.”

“We’ll travel by foot?” Volivia wonders. Wouldn’t that be risky, too? You’re easier to catch on foot. But she has a point, you’re easy to track by train…

“Until we reach the old farm at the edge of the District borders. There should be an emergency wagon there for us to use.” She turns to Gylan. “Are there any horses already there? Do you know?”

“There should be,” he says. “Penny said she checked up on them yesterday.”

“Good. Make sure you have everything. We leave in five minutes.”

It feels better, not walking so much.

The farm on the outskirts of Nine is even smaller than the one you’d been at for the past two months. It’s old and pretty run down. All the crops are bad from poor keeping. You don’t think anyone actually lives there. But they have an operational wagon and two horses that usually roam the area, so that’s all that matters.

It’s dark as the wagon takes you through the woods. You'd been traveling for over a day now. It’d been comforting to reach some trees. Being out in the open like you were felt so dangerous.

You peek through the tent, looking up at how dark the sky was. It isn't this dark in the Capitol. Too many lights. The stars are so bright here…

“How are you feeling?”

You look at Vincent, who’s holding the reins to guide the horses through a path in the trees. You shrug gently. Your body is sore—it’s always sore—your stomach is uneasy and you have a mild headache. They’re things you can ignore well enough until the wagon dips and makes your stomach flip uncomfortably.

“I’m okay, but this sickness is wearing me out,” you answer.

He chuckles lightly. “Do you wanna walk a bit? Via knows how to drive.”

The wagon is moving slowly enough that you could manage to trail behind it. It would be nice to break away from the uneven motion it’s putting you through, but the thought of walking isn’t giving you much relief with the way the bottoms of your feet ache.

You shake your head. “No, I’m okay. My feet still hurt from yesterday.”

He hums. Glancing away from the path, he gives you a gentle smile and pats the spot next to him. “Come sit next to me.”

Your stomach flips for another reason. You don’t want to get out and be seen… You don’t know who would see you, but the nerves eat away at you every time you think of the chance that you could be caught and condemned.

“You sure we won’t get caught?” you ask anxiously.

A light chuckle comes out of him as he nods. “Yeah. We’re basically in the middle of nowhere.” He scoots over a little. “Come on.”

You swallow thickly, thinking about it for another moment and assuring yourself that’s he right. There’s likely no one for miles. “Okay,” you mutter, hoisting yourself out of the wagon so you can pull yourself into the seat next to him. It takes some maneuvering, but you get there.

You sit next to him for a while. It’s so dark out and the ambiance of the horses and crickets and everything else around you is nice. You can feel yourself relaxing as the night air kisses your skin. You could fall asleep right then and there, but you refuse to. You’re too vulnerable right now. If you fall asleep and something happens… who are you to believe that you’re safe here? You know better than that.

You know it's foolish, but there's a bigger part of you, a wiser part of you that knows that you should always anticipate danger before you consider being safe.

So you don't sleep. The rest of the ride is silent, and you enjoy it as you try not to let your heavy head fall onto his shoulder.

District Eleven is beautiful.

Even in the dark, the vast orchard of trees to one side and field of strawberries to the other are breathtaking. The air smells sweet, the perfumes of the fruits in the late summer night waft into the air lovingly. You haven't been around such lavish fruits since you left—and even before that, they were never grand orchards of them.

You help the group unpack the essentials from the wagon, taking them inside with tired but dutiful movements in order to get in a bed faster. The owners of the orchard are kind, and they have a separate house from the large shed that is actually big enough to house all of their newcomers. It's nothing like the lavish mansions of the Capitol but it's spacious and comfortable and you don't share a room with five people. It's just you and Gylan.

Gylan is an easy sleeper. As soon as he plops into his bed for the rest of the night, he's out like a light. You don't have such luck. While he enjoys his slumber, you sit by the small window with your arms around your legs and stare out at all the greenery.

You don't know what time it is when a soft knock comes to the door. You quietly bid the person to come in. Gylan doesn't hear, he's a really deep sleeper.

“You're still up?” Vincent asks as he steps inside, looking between the two of you as he whispers to avoid disturbing your roommate.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “Sorry, not easy to sleep in new places.”

He shrugs, walking over to you and standing by your bed. “I get it.” He gestures to the edge of it, “you want some company?” He raises his brows, “I can help you sleep.”

You swallow thickly, your arms tightening around your legs. “How?”

He shrugs again. “I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

You try not to let your face drop into something more upset. You look down at your lap and clear your throat, letting your legs go and rubbing at your palms.

“I…” you clear your throat, not looking up at him. “I'm sorry, I'm really not… I…” You struggle to find the words. Rejecting him feels wrong.

You're not a whore, but you owe him and you owe the rest of his family for helping you. You're not a whore, but he could choose to throw you out and expose you to the Capitol again.

And what about Coryo? What if all of this was for naught, and he'd find you anyway? What if he found you and then found out that you'd betrayed him even further by fucking someone who wasn't him? It's the fight between two very difficult choices.

Vincent's face widens instantly as he realizes what you're saying. His eyes are big as dimes, his hands reach up in surrender. He shakes his head quickly.

“Oh,” he says, his voice hushed. “Oh! Fuck, uh– No, that's not what I meant. I meant like…like a back rub or something…” He wipes a hand down his face in an attempt to hide his embarrassment, and you find it reassuring—endearing, even.

“I see how bad that sounds. Um…” he shakes his head, as if to figure out what to say, “breathing exercises, y'know?”

“Oh.” You clear your throat, your own embarrassment creeping up your neck at the realization that you'd misunderstood him. “Okay, well. Yeah, um, that's fine.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, that was–”

“No, it was my fault.” You can't believe you misinterpreted him in that way. He hasn't come off in such a way thus far, and he's going to start now? How stupid could you have been…?

“No, it's not,” he breaks you from your thoughts.”You did nothing wrong.”

You don't believe him, but it's…nice to hear that you're not to blame. Even if you don't believe him. You should have known better.

“Okay…”

It gets quiet. And awkward. You sort of just sit there, and he sort of just stands there. It's silent and strange, and you don't know what to do with yourself.

“So…” you clear your throat.

He nods, “Yeah.” Vincent rubs his hands together, glancing around and rocking on his feet. “Did you want some…breathing stuff?”

You lick your bottom lip. “I'm actually…really sore in my shoulders, if you don't mind?” You feel like you sound stupid. You're not used to expressing your needs. You're used to standing straight and doing as you're told and pretending you've got everything together. Here, you don't have much of anything to keep together. You're exposed, and dealing with that is hard. “If that's okay with you, of course,” you add on, straightening your back to try to regain some composure, any professionalism you can hold onto.

“Yeah,” he says easily. “No problem.”

Vincent moves to sit on the edge of the bed. You stand, and he pulls your chair in front of him. You sit and feel his hands on your shoulders.

He's got strong hands. You assume it's from all the work he does, especially between moving around the Districts so often. His hands squeeze your shoulders, his thumbs moving between your shoulder blades to work out the knots he can feel. You're very tense.

Your eyelids are heavy. It feels really nice. Waves of relief and—almost embarrassingly—pleasure flower through you. You sigh longingly, trying to keep from making any sounds that would make this exceedingly more awkward for the both of you.

It's quiet and comfortable, as he works out the kinks in your back. You enjoy the peace and relief, he seems to enjoy granting it. When he speaks, it's very quiet and very assuring. You lean into every word and every pause between them, processing the weird curling in your chest.

“I just want to let you know that…” he takes a quiet breath, “I wouldn't do that to you—taking advantage of you like that.” One of his hands moves down to your arm, squeezing gently and smoothing his palm over the skin. “Especially not after everything you've been through.”

You're good at reading lies. You used to hear them every day, spewing from Coriolanus’ mouth like lava. But Vincent's words don't spew. They're soft and sweet, they're sincere and they're kind and you believe him.

You swallow thickly. “Thanks.”

“If you ever need anything, I'm here.” His voice is even softer now, dropped down a few pitches just to really make sure you understand what he's telling you. “All things considered,” he chuckles lightly, “you're safe here.”

That isn't a concept that was easy to understand for you. It never has been, and you're not sure if it truly will. But you want to believe him, and you want to trust him. He isn't lying, you know he isn't, you can hear it in his voice and feel it in the way he works his fingers into your back.

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes and letting them stick together like they're glued with sap. You take in a deep breath, let it out, and allow yourself to smile. Even if you don't believe it yet, you nod and think to yourself, ‘We're safe.’

Coriolanus Snow taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess @secretsicanthideanymore @tvparty18 @nowitsmissing @vi0lentb3rry @hiireadstuff @feyresqueen Tag yourself here...

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow smut #ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #female reader #reader insert #dark fic

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translatemunson · 7 months ago

Text

devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes • ttfd

chapter one of the tortured firefighters department

masterlist | next chapter

cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, description of clothes, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, proofread by my bye-lingual ass (let me know if i forgot anything)

You knocked on the white door again, not sure why you feel nervous about all of this. It’s just a small get-together at one of your coworker’s houses. For sure it’s better than spending another night in the library, writing your thesis, but it kinda makes you nervous.

So this is what life looks like when away from the screens that raised you?

From the East Coast all the way to LA to get your PhD, the city of angels was no more than a stranger on the window. Before moving, you had worked on the 9-1-1 call center for your region because the shift’s schedule could actually fit your undergrad and master’s schedule — also the money was enough to survive, and you could check your notes on slow shifts. But once after a massive power outage, your superior thought your desk was too small for your brain.

Not that you were a bad dispatcher — your responses and action times were above average, actually —, but he’d seen how you managed the data influx, pinning all the accidents, teams on call and reported issues on the white board and shouting directions for quicker routes and delay problems. After that, you’d spend more time helping fixing turnaround times and implementing some sort of algorithm and protocols for when the next disaster hits. At some point, they transferred you to Florida during the hurricane season because of your reputation — that spread like a wildfire, believe you or not.

You lasted enough to finish your master’s degree and hop on a plane to LA, for your PhD in dynamical systems theory. You had a job offer, leaving your 9-1-1 days behind for some small desk and endless boring demands. It didn’t last much, though, because, after eight months, it made you miss the adrenaline rush and large income of data from the 9-1-1.

That’s how you ended up at the Los Angeles 9-1-1 call center in Metro, always happy to jump on some calls and help other dispatchers with logistics and patterns. Nobody warned you about tsunamis or earthquakes, but you knew you could manage them just like a pro — if they ever happened again, which was a matter of time.

“Hey! I was starting to think you would bail on me!” Maddie opened the door, the genuine happiness glow irradiating and making her smile almost unbearable. “Please, come in.”

“Got caught up in traffic. Who knew the logistics mastermind would be stuck in a casual traffic jam?” You gave her the flowers you bought and held the brownie pan with both hands. “Hope I’m not too late.”

“Oh no, you arrived just in time! Here, let me take care of this,” she took the pan from your hands and motioned to the living room. “Make yourself at home. And thanks for the flowers!”

“Our last guest, finally!” Howard, aka Chim, Maddie’s boyfriend, left his place on the counter to greet you. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the voice!”

“Hope I didn’t disappoint you.” You hugged him, your extroverted persona finally happy to be in a room with real people, and not just some endless phone calls and work talk. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s ok, those guys are too busy with their games to notice we are a little behind schedule. But Jee is getting hangry” He pointed to the couch, where three adults, one child and one baby were too busy with the TV screen to notice your arrival.

“I guess the kid’s table is full tonight.”

“Hey, we’ve heard that!” One of them screamed from the couch, not bothering to look in your direction. He raised his arm, the tattoos across his skin showing against his white skin, in protest.

“Nice crowd.” You followed Maddie into the kitchen, Chim’s voice in the background saying it was the last race.

“I’m so glad you’re here. Water, juice or some alcohol?” She offered while reaching for the glasses. “Oh, Chim made some Margaritas.”

“I’d love one of those, thank you.” You fixed your green dress, somehow feeling overdressed. Not exactly your fault, when Maddie invited you for dinner, you visualized all the scenarios in your mind. Afraid of looking lazy, you went for a flowy green dress and a batch of brownies, to show some appreciation.

Between Margarita sips and after work gossip — because, nowadays, your work schedules mostly were off sync —, you helped Maddie setting the table and dishes. And, as expected, one race became four, with Chim playing the commentator. Maddie took the chance to show you the houses they were applying for, making good use of Jee’s quiet bedroom to talk.

“Are the others not good enough or just too expensive?” She had been talking about house scouting for weeks, and even helped you find a new place while doing so.

“You’d be impressed to see the final price of those houses once you track all the problems.” She played with her hair. “How’ve you been doing?”

“My thesis is starting to follow me like an unwanted ghost, and work has been— no, not gonna jinx it. Moving has been a pain in the ass, but thanks for telling me about that loft. The rent is actually acceptable and the view is amazing!”

“Glad it worked for you! And don’t thank me, actually it was—”

“Hey, Mads, we’re just waiting for you two.” The tall blue eyed guy stood in the hallway and gave the door a weak tap. Oh, tattoo guy, you noticed. “Chim is destroying the dumplings Albert made and Jee is not happy with being left out of the girls reunion. You better hurry up.”

“We are right behind you, Buck.” She said, bringing you with her to the dining table.

After some quick introductions — Albert, Chim’s half-brother; Eddie and his son Christopher, and Buck, Maddie’s little brother —, you indulged in some dumplings and pork ramen. Albert was experimenting with Korean cuisine, talking about opening a restaurant and finally having enough money to move out to his own place.

“Well, I think you should do it. I’d be happy to order this every day,” you said, pointing your chopsticks to the almost empty bowl.

“Thanks– sorry, what is your name again?”

“Everyone just call me Brains.” The nickname stuck since your first major catastrophe at the call center job — and maybe a little because of your bachelor.

“Wait, I think I’ve met you before.” Eddie announced and looked at Chris. “You went to his school a few weeks ago to talk about pursuing math in college, right?”

“I did a small presentation, yeah. My professor asked me for a favor since his kids are students there, but he had a full schedule. I had a nice time with the kiddos.”

“She is super smart!” Chris shared, in his own words, a little about your presentation. Talking to the younger ones about advanced math proved to be a challenge, but once you showed them all the cool things math made possible, you had their attention.

“Why are you working on the 9-1-1 instead of, I don’t know, teaching in college?” Buck inquired, beer in hand.

“Would you believe me if I said I have an adrenaline addiction and I can’t stay away from trouble?” You pressed your lips together and shook your head.

“Oh, he would, because he was addicted to—”

Maddie slapped Chimney on the arm. “Hey, there’s two kids in the room.”

And all eyes were on Chris, who was too busy with his noodles to notice, and Jee, playing with her bites of veggies. You laughed, leaving your empty cup on the table, and reaching for the last dumpling.

“I guess we are all addicted to something,” you stared at Buck's blue eyes and took a bite. “Maybe once I get my PhD, I’ll go full professor and find some adrenaline on handing out really hard exams. But the chances are very low.”

“You should try being part of LAFD, you might like it,” Albert suggested.

“I can barely carry my boxes upstairs, being that physical isn’t for me.” The admission made you shyly smile, because you were definitely hinting that firefighters were strong. “Math, on the other hand…”

“Please, don’t give her any more ideas! Since Brains started working with us, the dispatching process changed for the better.” Maddie brought her hands together and begged in a joking tone.

A few Margaritas and some dessert later, you were helping Maddie with the dishes while Albert played with Christopher, and Buck was holding Jee so she wouldn’t throw a tantrum. Chim asked Eddie to help with a few construction questions, feeling like he was missing some important topics while house scouting.

“I think I’m done for the night,” you told her as you closed the cabinet door. “Thanks for the invite, Maddie. You were right, I needed a break.”

“I know when I see someone on the verge of burnout.” You looked at her, the tequila making the simple action of laughing much more easier. “Let me know when you’re settled at your new place so I can get you a housewarming gift.”

“Oh please, don’t bother, Maddie. I’m sure you’re too busy with Jee and moving matters.”

“Sure you don’t want some ramen for tomorrow? Albert may be a good cook, but he has no idea of the measurements.”

“You’re sick of the smell, right?”

“A little.” She smirked.

“I guess I won’t have to worry about lunch tomorrow.”

“Make two, Mads!” Buck approached the kitchen counter. “Leaving already, Brains?”

“Yeah, gonna finish moving to my new place tomorrow.” Maddie left the blue tupperware in front of you. “Thanks, I’ll bring it to you next wednesday.”

“Can I get more brownies?”

“Anything for my favorite dispatcher.” You looked around, opting for a quick goodbye. “It was nice to meet y’all. Again, thanks for the invite, Maddie.”

“Nice to meet you too, Brains,” Buck said, getting closer. “Hope to speak to you soon, dispatcher Brains.”

“I hope we don’t, firefighter Buckley.” You teased him. “Have a good night, guys.”

You left Maddie’s place, drove to your new place, opened the door for an empty apartment, stored the ramen in the fridge, climbed up the stairs and fell face first into your bed, shoes and all.

If you didn’t know Maddie, you’d say she had second intentions with that dinner.

author's note: hi guys! chapters will be short because it helps me keep the momentum with the writing (and keep the impostor's syndrome away from my efforts). also yeah i'm using TTFD as an acronym bc i choose a whole ass long title for the fic. huge shout out to my love my bestie my soulmate @munsonsreputation for always supporting me (love you kaaaay). also hi casey welcome to the 9-1-1 fandom, thank you for the endless edits on tiktok haha. i guess i see y'all next week...

#evan buckley fanfic #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #9 1 1 abc #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buck buckely #buck fanfiction #evan buckley imagine #effie writes

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taintedcigs · 1 year ago

Text

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER FOUR: TWO NOTES AND A HEART DOWN

← prev chapter // next chapter →

✦ summary: in which eddie takes you for a trip down memory lane and you finally read the note. (wc: 9.4k+)

✦ warnings — ANGSTANGSTANGST, argument </33, yelling, crying, mentions of sa (nothing happens) like its not brought up AT ALL it's insinuated like the tiniest bit, mean!eddie, kinda asshole-ish? pining and slowburn, strong language!, mentions of alc*hol and drg use and a toxic/ab*sive relationship, food!!

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader, eddie munson x chrissy cunningham

✦ authors note — sorry for the wait but i hope a 9.4k chapter makes up for it omg! also feel free to chat with me in the asks abt this series (and anything tbh) pls!! not proof-read pls ignore mistakes!! ive been struggling with this chapter A LOT. its not at all how i wanted to write it but i was just tired of holding it off :// so hope u guys enjoy and this is like the last fluffy chapter lmao its all angst from here on (well kinda)

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His nose skimmed against yours, a mere breath away from the temptation of your soft lips, everything you’ve been wanting on the tip of your fingers.

But you couldn’t do that. It didn’t matter if he was sorry or if it was casual. Chrissy still existed. And he still kissed her in front of you.

Friends, is what he promised. And this was going to ruin it.

“Please, look at me,” he pleaded, you could hear the desperation in his voice. Your eyes blinked open slowly, how close he was to you had your eyes widened.

"I-I don't even know what's wrong with me," he breathed out. "I feel like...I feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind, and I don’t even know what just happened,” he said in a strained voice.

“I-I just… I look at you, and I’m absolutely terrified.” He gulped. “It terrifies me that—” He stopped himself before he could spew out more.

It terrifies me how much I would do for you, he wishes to say, but he doesn’t, he can’t.

“I can’t—we shouldn’t be doing this." He stammered, quick to lean away from you.

“I-I know” You agreed hesitantly, because you knew this was a bad idea. But your stomach burned at the thought that he wanted to not kiss you because of Chrissy. Was he actually going to be with her now? Did he lie about things being casual?

“Do you…” You took a deep breath, “do you like her?” Your voice was strained, it was barely above a whisper, but Eddie heard you loud and clear.

Your heart rate picked up quicker than you intended it to, you leaned further away from him, your mouth flooded with a bitter taste.

“No!” His eyes widened, he answered it so quickly that the idea that he was lying sank further into you.

“No, I-I don’t know… I just-” He breathed. “We agreed to being friends… We should keep it that way, and I can’t keep doing this,” he stammered. “I need to stop hanging on to the past.”

“but, fuck. Each time, I try to, you just… prevent it!” He admitted, without realizing the weight his words held, your brows pinched quickly.

“I prevent it?” You enunciated with an exasperated chuckle.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mumbled under your breath as your body turned away from him, elbows holding onto the edge of the pool as you swiftly lifted yourself up.

Eddie just looked at you, baffled. “Do you realize how unbelievable you are?” You spat, looking down on him with your hair still wet and your dress uncomfortably stuck to your body.

“What are you talking about?” He gave you a puzzled look.

“Nevermind,” you huffed, facing away from him.

Eddie groaned, following you as he exited the pool swiftly. “Why do you even care?” He asked, breathless. Taking another step closer toward you.

“I don’t,” you lied with a gulp. You were a bad liar. And Eddie knew that.

“You don’t?” He narrowed his gaze, giving you a second chance to open up, but he knew you were too stubborn.

“I don’t.”

He huffed. “Fine.”

“That…” He paused, “was a mistake.” You could feel that horrible ache in your chest return. Sure it was a bad idea, but a mistake?

Did he really hate you that much?

“What does that mean?” You swallowed hard. Your heart was breaking the more he spoke, you wanted nothing more than to shut him up.

“It means we-I shouldn’t have done that,” he corrected himself with a tinge of disappointment in his tone. But what exactly did he mean by that? Did he mean that the almost-kiss was a mistake because it could ruin your potential friendship? Or did he mean it in a way that suggested he liked Chrissy?

Those words were enough to have your heart drop into your gut; your whirlwind of thoughts were mocking you, the idea that Eddie had a chance of liking her was eating away at you, and all you could do was stand there and watch it all unravel.

You parted your lips to speak, but all that could come out was a weak mutter of, “okay.” You turned your back on him quickly, picking up your jacket from the ground. You put it on in a struggle, fighting back the tears that were pricking your eyes.

“What are you doing?” He asked with a puzzled look, and you refused to look back at him before your feet picked up. He didn’t seem to realize why his answer truly crushed you.

“I-I’m going home.” Your voice was barely audible; there was a lump sitting in your throat, causing your breathing to stammer.

“With what exactly?” He huffed, following behind you.

“I don’t know,” you muttered with a roll of your eyes. “I’ll figure it out… I always do, don’t I?” You shrugged.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I won’t let you walk alone like this. You could catch a cold, or something could happen to you, Pinky." His voice was laced with concern, brows furrowed as he hurried to your side.

“I don’t care,” you muttered with an emotionless expression.

“I do!”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do!” He spat. “Please, don’t do something stupid and reckless. I can take you home,” he mumbled with a huff. There was no fucking way he’d let you walk home alone.

“And I have a towel in my car,” he added, you slightly huffed. It was chilly, your dress was soaking, and he was right. There was no way you could get home without him. At least until you were willing to freeze off or get hauled by whatever was roaming in the forest.

You followed him to the car with a simple nod, Eddie still failed to notice why you had gotten so upset, not realizing the implications his words held.

By the time you got into the car, you were shivering, faintly muttering a ‘Thanks’ to Eddie as he wrapped the towel around you, brows creasing with worry, but he didn’t know what to say to you.

Usually, he wouldn’t have let it go; he would’ve tried to get it out of you and ask you if you were okay, but when you were this upset, it was no use.

The ride was silent except for the faint sound of Eddie’s mixtape filling the space between the two of you. He had asked if you had anything specific you wanted to listen to, but you shut him off with a faint shake of your head.

Your heart was aching. Like he had just ripped open your chest and taken it without a care, not noticing how tight he had been squeezing and releasing it. As if he were toying with it.

And you felt nauseous. You weren’t sure if it was because you didn’t get a chance to eat all day or because of that mocking thought in your head that told you that Eddie wanted Chrissy.

Once your stomach grumbled, your question was quickly answered, your cheeks heated up as you crossed your arms against your chest in an attempt to shut it up. Eddie gave you a slight chuckle. “Munchies?” He chuckled. “Do you wanna get something to eat?” He asked with a reassuring smile.

“I just wanna go home,” you grumbled as your gaze refused to meet his. “C’mon,” he muttered with a huff. “Do you even have anything to eat at home?” He asked all-knowingly. You shook your head, you didn’t; your fridge was empty; it was late, so you couldn’t get any groceries; not to mention, your messy kitchen was in no condition to cook.

“Are burgers still your favorite food?” Your face unintentionally lit up at that; he was definitely thinking about Benny’s, and your mouth-watered just at the idea of their cheeseburgers.

“Benny’s?” You asked with an involuntary smile on your cheeks, and Eddie swallowed a deep breath. That curve of your goddamn plump lips was driving him crazy.

“Yeah, do you want to go?” He muttered slowly. “O-okay,” you mumbled.

First the Wheeler House, then Billy’s stupid camaro, then the pool, this goddamn van, that mixtape, and now Benny's... this whole day had been a nostalgic mind fuck for you. You couldn’t complain, though; no matter how upset his words made you, you were still so pathetically happy to spend some time with him, ecstatic that he didn’t let you go.

And so was Eddie. That’s why he had been holding his tongue back; he wanted to know why you cared so much about Chrissy. Sure, what she did with Billy was horrible. But it didn’t make sense. There had to be something he didn’t know.

By the time you guys arrived at Benny's, it was past midnight, so, the place wasn’t packed, of course, but surprisingly, there were still a lot of tables besides the two of you. Eddie let out an ‘Aha!’ sound once his eyes caught the booth that was nestled in the corner.

The same one the two of you always shared. The white light loomed over its padded, dark maroon seat, and you slid onto it with a huff. Your senses were immediately greeted by the mouthwatering aroma of toasted buns. The air was infused with a disgusting smell of frying oil, but all of it smelled irresistible to your growling stomach.

Once the two of you got situated, Benny was quick to rush to your side. “Welcome to Benny’s, what can I get you—”

"Oh my god!" Benny's eyes widened, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Didn't expect to see you! Jesus, how long has it been?" He chuckled, his memory working overtime.

A smile adorned your face, Benny had always been nice to you and to Eddie, giving you one too many free meals, always telling you that it was not an issue despite your protests, knowing of your absentee parents, just like the rest of the town did.

“Very long,” you added with a chuckle, “missed your cheeseburgers.” You pouted.

"Yeah?" Benny's excitement was palpable. "Mmhmm, nowhere in New York does it as good as Benny's," you hummed sweetly.

"Now, you're just butterin' me up!" Benny dismissed with a chuckle, eliciting a warm smile from you.

"But, New York, huh?" Benny inquired, raising an intrigued brow. "I've seen this one around, a lot, even last week." His finger pointed toward Eddie, prompting your brows to furrow.

Last week?

“So that's why you weren’t with him.” He added, realization dawning on his face. Eddie was quick to shoot a painful gaze toward you, one that almost said, ‘no, she wasn’t with me because she left me’, You didn’t know how it was possible to share a language just through your shared gaze, but it had you physically gulping.

“Uh-uh, yeah,” you mumbled, your gaze avoiding Eddie’s.

“I gotta say though…” He leaned down, almost like he was telling the two of you a secret, “It’s really nice seeing the two of you together, again.” Benny said with a sly smirk.

“‘Bout damn time y’all got together,” He teased further.

Your eyes widened in unison, both sets of cheeks warming before you spoke up.

“Oh, no—” You were quick to dismiss with your hands.

“We’re not—” Eddie joined in your protests.

“So, what can I get for you, lovebirds?” He hummed casually, ignoring both of your protests. Your eyes locked before both of you shyly avoided each other’s gaze. “The usual?”

“Uh-uh, yeah," Eddie grumbled, suddenly more interested in the wooden table.

When Benny turned toward you, “same for her, but with extra pickles.” Eddie said almost automatically, your brows pinched together and Eddie mentally cursed himself, “I-I mean… if that’s still your order…” His words smushed together, cheeks quick to heat crimson red.

“It-it is," you mumbled.

“Alright, comin’ right up,” he threw a wink at the two of you, clueless of the awkwardness apparent in the air.

It was stupid, all this back and forth all day. You weren’t kids anymore; you should have been able to just be friends and hang out, not fight. Yet, somehow, it had spiraled into a seemingly impossible situation.

Talking it out wasn’t going to do anything. If the two of you wanted any chance to salvage whatever your relationship was, you needed to talk about the bigger picture; everything needed to be spilled out. But neither of you wanted to do that.

Unspoken feelings were lingering, and none of you knew when they would boil over. Both of you desperately wanted to cling to the promise of being friends and make the most of it.

There were a lot of things you could say to him; you could choose to talk about Chrissy, you could choose to talk about L.A.; hell, you could choose to talk about his nerdy game, but your curiosity got the best of you, and before you could help it, the words spilled out of your mouth. “What were you doing here last week?”

Eddie was almost taken aback by your question, not expecting you to be curious about him again after icing him out for so long. “I like coming here,” he shrugged. “Whenever I’m in Hawkins, I drop by, you know, to write some stuff.”

“Here?” Your face scrunched, finding it hard to believe that a greasy diner could ever be inspiring.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “most of our second album was produced in this bad boy.”

"Are you serious?” Your brows raised, “and the rest of the band is just okay following you here?" You narrowed your gaze playfully, your hands finding a resting place on the worn wooden table.

Eddie’s mouth twitched with a smile. “Yeah, actually, they’ve gotten pretty used to it,” he confessed, “you-uh… I don’t know if you ever got to listen to the second one-”

"I did," you interrupted, voice resolute.

“Y-you did?”

“Of course.”

Eddie hesitated before asking, "What did you think of it?"

“Great record, are you kidding me? It had such a unique sound… You know, like, a timeless quality that makes it stand out?” You said excitedly, and he nodded with a raised brow, “that much?” He asked hesitantly.

“I’m not kidding, Eddie. You know how I don’t pull punches with music; if it wasn’t good, I’d tell you in a heartbeat.”

"Which one's your favorite?" Eddie asked, his curiosity piqued.

You pondered for a second before answering, "oh, definitely Aurora!"

Eddie's shaggy bangs fell onto his forehead as he leaned closer, listening intently. "I mean, 'I just kinda died for you, you just kinda stared at me' is genius," you said, your voice filled with admiration. You didn't dare look him in the eyes.

"And really, really sad," you continued, a hint of melancholy in your tone. "The idea that you could give the whole world to someone, to the point where you describe it as dying, and they don’t even see it... it sounds awfully painful." You gulped, your eyes fixed on the worn wooden table. You weren’t stupid; you knew why it was named Aurora; you knew what the lyrics were alluding to.

His car. The same car that the two of you drove around in. The same car drove the two of you out of Hawkins.

You knew he liked you way before he let you on, and you wish you knew.

Maybe if you weren’t dating that douchebag, maybe if Eddie said something sooner, maybe if everything that happened when the two of you left didn’t happen… Maybe just maybe, the two of you’d be together now.

Maybe if the timing was just right, it wouldn’t be like this; he wouldn’t have whatever he had with Chrissy. You wouldn’t have been in New York.

But what were you supposed to say? What could you say that would change all of this? Even if you told him about what Chrissy did, even if you explained why you had to leave him in L.A., there was no use. The truth couldn't turn back time. You two had ventured down different paths, and it was painfully evident.

He wasn’t the Eddie you knew, and you weren’t the Pinky he knew; it was too fucking late.

Eddie's mouth hung open in surprise; he hadn't expected you to delve into the song's meaning like this. Aurora was one of the heaviest songs he had ever written, and he held a special attachment to it. The label and the rest of the band had embraced it, which was surprising since they usually rejected his heartbreak songs, wanting more of that unbridled rage.

He didn’t answer you; there was a weird tension between the two of you again, so you diffused it with, “but kinda lame that you decided to name a song after your car,” while eyeing Eddie to gauge his reaction.

Eddie chuckled. “Oh, bite me,” he teased, "but yeah, that one was also written here, in that same spot you were sitting.”

“Shut up!” You said, hand playfully reaching out to nudge him.

"And to your question... I can't tell you why I was here last week," Eddie confessed, his voice carrying a hint of mystery.

Your stomach twisted at that, and you didn't know how many more punch-in-the-gut revelations you could handle today. "Why- uhh- why not?" You asked hesitantly, your words stuttering over simple syllables.

"Because then I'd be spoiling the note, dummy," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

A deep breath of relief escaped your stomach, and you chuckled. God, he was a douche. "Wait... so does that mean... I have a song in my pocket?"

"Not exactly."

"I'm the first one to see it, huh?" You asked excitedly, hand teasingly dipping into your pocket.

"You and the rest of the band," Eddie huffed, offering a sheepish grin.

You gave him a quick glare. “You know I could leak this to the press and make millions, right? No more dealing with rude customers, and no more nine to five hours stuck in a record shop?”

He narrowed his gaze. "You can't get shit for that," he mockingly retorted.

"What?" You frowned.

"Yeah, it's basically like the first chorus and some gibberish notes, it's worthless," Eddie explained.

You pouted. "Aww, damn it."

"I'm kidding, I'm excited to read it,” you reassured with a wink, “you know… Maybe I could give you some notes on it? Review it?" You suggested.

“Didn’t know you were a musician.”

“Rude!” You huffed, “I may not be a musician, rockstar. But I sell records for a living. I can promise you, I listened to many more records than you did this year.” You said with a playful smirk.

"How's that like?" Eddie asked curiously, his deep brown eyes resembling longing and curiosity.

You leaned back against the cushioned booth, letting out a wistful sigh. "Working at a record store? A rollercoaster,” you chuckled, “lame in some ways, but also incredibly fascinating. New York's a whole different world compared to Hawkins."

Eddie couldn't help but study your face as you spoke. He noticed the faint traces of insecurity in the way you held yourself—an air of loneliness that came with moving away from everyone you knew and your family leaving you.

"But also, it took me a while to get used to it," you continued. "Nancy and Jonathan used to visit me a lot; they've really helped me adjust.”

“And you know, of course, Robin and Steve, too,” you murmured.

Eddie’s brows shot up at that. So everyone but him.

It was a sting he couldn't quite shake, burning at his skin, that you decided to abandon him but were fine with everyone else, including Steve.

Your absence in his life had left a void he couldn't fill, ever.

Yet, here you were, replacing him like it was nothing.

Eddie knew he had no right to be jealous; you two were just friends, right? But it ate away at him; that feeling seeped through him, even though you were never his to begin with.

His face burned, and his jaw clenched involuntarily. He could almost feel the taste of bitter jealousy in his mouth, considering how it was overtaking his senses. “Steve?” He questioned; gaze seeping through you, an unbrittled rage ready to tip at any moment.

You didn’t seem to notice it, though. For someone who was usually very perceptive, it flew right by you—that slight tick in his jaw, the way his fists curled, the storm raging beneath the surface.

“Yeah,” you murmured, his head turned away from you, gaze fixed on anything but your face. The other corners of the burger place was suddenly very interesting to him as he grappled with his own emotions.

“It’s pretty crowded in here, right?” you remarked, trying to draw Eddie into the conversation and gauge his mood.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie replied, his gaze remained distant, thoughts elsewhere.

Concern etched across your face as you pressed further, “Uh, are you okay?” Something seemed to be bothering Eddie, and you couldn't pin-point what it was.

“‘M fine,” he dismissed with a wave of his hands.

He had to distract you and do something else because he was being super fucking weird, and you weren’t dumb; you could read him like a book.

He didn’t want that awkwardness or tension to reappear; he wanted to talk to you freely, he couldn’t let his insecurities ruin this for him.

Eddie’s attention turned back to you, “is that what you want to do with your life?” his brows raised, “The record store, I mean.” He didn’t want to sound rude, he just wanted to know more.

“I don’t know… I never had much time to think about it.” You gave him a small smile, shaking your head gently, “also, I can’t really afford to think about it anyway.”

“But what do you want to do?” He probed.

“Anything concerning art… I mean I’d love to be a tattoo artist, too. That’s the likely path I’m going down, dunno if the salary is good enough, though.” You shrugged, “but you know what I’d love to be?” Eddie leaned closer, his eagerness clear.

“What?” He asked, genuinely intrigued.

“Someone came in like a month ago, this bearded guy with lots of tattoos… We had a new album coming to our store that day, and he wanted to see them,” you mumbled with a warm smile, eyes glistening with a dreamy glow. “Then he told me about how he was a tattoo artist, but helped make some of the cover art for that album, and then something just like clicked in me.”

“I used to draw with the hope that maybe it could connect with someone, you know, like it did with me… I spent half of my childhood drawing and listening to music as an outlet. Whenever my parents left, whenever they were absent in my life despite ‘being there’, or whenever they had a screaming match, plates thrown at each other, the first thing I did was sketch, anything, on the notebook.” You mumbled, “or I listened to a record, and I let it consume me, in the hopes that it would drive me away from reality, diffuse the pain, even for a split second, and it worked,” you said with a simple smile.

Eddie hung on to your every word, his gaze never wavering, admiring that creative spirit shining in you. “Art and music shift the world in the best way possible, and maybe it is dramatic but it also saves lives in a way, you know, by helping you get through something, or making you forget. And that’s my biggest wish… to have my art be important to someone, to make them feel like they’re not alone, in any way possible. So when I saw how that guy combined music and art like that, I thought, this is fucking perfect, this is what I need to do.”

Eddie’s brows pinched together, “why haven’t you done it?” he asked, his voice a soothing lilt that could melt any doubts away. He could listen to you talk about your passions for hours, the way your eyes glistened with hope, that little quirk of your brow did when you found something interesting, it was heavenly to him.

“C’mon Eds, be realistic,” you murmured sadly. “Half the people that work for a good record company or with a good band have fancy art degrees, they have connections, they have the money, the time to do it. No one’s going to want a nobody who doesn’t even have a college degree from a small town.” Your lips pressed into a thin line.

“Bullshit,” he spat quickly, dismissing the way you so quickly diminished yourself, “I was the trailer trash of Hawkins, and look what happened,” he encouraged in a harsh but also a warm manner, leaning closer.

“Yeah, but you’re also a guy, Eddie.” Your voice wavered as you pointed out, “t-they have different expectations for women who don’t have those connections, or don’t come from like insanely rich parents… If you know what I mean,” you said with disgusted frowning upon your face, chill running down your spine.

Eddie immediately picked it up, his face growing to one of concern, “W-wait-” his voice quivered, the color drained from his face quickly, you immediately knew what he was implying and shook your head, “no, no, not me! But I heard lots of stories in New York, it’s just disgusting,” your face scrunched.

“That’s awful,” Eddie’s jaw clenched in anger, he knew there were a lot of scumbags in the industry, and it pissed him off that he could do nothing about it. He already felt guilty enough that he didn’t realize what a narcissistic asshole Billy really was, he wanted to help any way he could.

And then, like a sudden light bulb went off in his head, an idea illuminated his mind. “Have I ever told you that our record company is in need of a new art director?” He pouted teasingly.

Your eyebrows shot up as a giggle escaped your lips. "You're funny," you said, playfully skeptical.

Eddie, ever earnest, replied, "I'm serious."

“I-I can't do that," you said shyly, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress.

Eddie leaned in, and retorted with a, “and why not?"

“It-it feels wrong, and you don’t even know if I’d be good-“ you hesitated, not fully convinced if this was a good idea.

“Bullshit,” Eddie countered firmly, a small smile gracing his lips. “I know how great your art is, and I know how much you care about music, the way you describe it is exactly the reason why I love it so much.” Eddie always took you seriously and encouraged you about your dreams, no matter how unrealistic it was.

“You know what you said earlier about how you wanted your art to matter to someone?” You nodded, eyes glistening with hope.

“Your art is important to me, Pinky. The ones you sketched in your notebooks, is what helped me write some of my lyrics. The drawings you made when you were bored in class, the ones I have hung up on my wall still at the trailer… they mean so much to me,” he said in a hushed voice, he dragged his arm on the table, quick to point to the tattoo on his forearm. “This tattoo, is what helped with Corroded Coffin’s symbol bats, you do realize that, right?”

Skeptical, you scoffed, "you guys always had bats as your thing."

“True,” he agreed, “but your design helped bring it to life.” He shrugged, “and you know the band better than anyone, maybe you could help us with our next album cover, too. I don’t think I could find someone more perfect for the job.” Eddie shrugged and smiled warmly.

“But-”

Your protests were gently silenced by Eddie, who insisted with a soft determination, “No but’s, just say yes, please.” His voice was sweet, sickingly sweet, you couldn’t say no even if you wanted to, and this was the perfect opportunity.

“I mean I’ll just have a talk with them, show them some of your stuff, so, no promises. But I can be very, very persuasive,” he teased, a wink thrown your way.

You stammered, the excitement bubbling within you. "Y-you'd do that for me?” He nodded surely, “even after everything that happened?" Your tone was muffled, laced with insecurity.

"Anything for you," Eddie reassured as he leaned closer, that familiar, small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

With your heart aflutter, you finally agreed, excitement breaking through the barriers of your insecurities. "If—if you really are okay with it, I-I'd love to."

“Of course,” he affirmed.

“Alright!” Benny chimed in, interrupting the two of you. “Two cheeseburgers with a side of fries, and two milkshakes.” He hummed, settling the food in front of both sets of hungry eyes.

“Enjoy, lovebirds!” He said with a smirk, sauntering away to the kitchen.

“Thank you!” Both of you exclaimed with happiness as you dug into the food.

As you munched on the crispy fries, you admired the other tables, each one occupied by a slice of life that you couldn't help but find intriguing.

One table was for a family of four. All you could hear was the distressed children, their whining echoed through the restaurant. The parents looked drained, faces etched with exhaustion as they juggled plates of half-eaten food, desperately trying to calm down and distract their kids.

Another table was occupied by a couple who was in a heated argument. The man wore a scowl, voice raised in anger, while the woman looked like she was about to cry, her eyes pleading for understanding.

But the last table was the one that you couldn’t tear your eyes away from, it brought a smile to your face. “Oh my god, look,” you said in a hushed voice, gaze pointing toward the booth that was nested in the far right corner.

Eddie was already face-first into his food, “later, ’m eating.” He grumbled. You poked your tongue out at him playfully. “Jesus… Forgot how grumpy you get when you are hungry,” you hummed, flinging a fry in his direction, causing him to pause mid-bite and chuckle.

“Oh, you don't wanna play that game with me, sweetheart,” he teased, dangling a fry in front of your face.

You grinned, your eyes dancing with excitement. “Just one look, and I’ll be out of your curly unbrushed hair, Munson,” you joked with a giggle.

His eyes rolled quickly, “you won’t stop until you get what you want, will you?” He asked with an annoyed tilt of his head.

You shook your head with a giggle. “Fine,” he huffed jokingly, dipping the fry in his hand into the vanilla milkshake, making an exaggerated sound of satisfaction as he devoured it.

“Gross.” You commented with mock disgust, and he rolled his eyes in response.

“Just tell me which table.” Eddie leaned in, his curiosity piqued as your gaze moved toward the couple at the adjacent booth. The girl was wearing a plaid mini skirt, expertly paired with a statement crop-top covered by an oversized leather jacket wrapped around her shoulders, likely borrowed from the curly-haired brunette sitting on the opposite side of the booth.

Her head was thrown back, and laughter danced in her eyes as she hung on to every word of the story he was telling. The curly haired brunette guy had a graphic band-tee and a guitar pick adorning his neck. Mascara smudged and eyes all red; you knew they probably had a long night.

It reminded him of something, or rather, someone.

He looked at you with his brows scrunched up, and you replied to him with a giggle. Both of you were thinking the same thing.

“That’s fuckin’ weird.” Eddie mumbled with a mouthful of his juicy cheeseburger. “Are those our… doppelgangers?”

“Right?” You almost mirrored him, taking a bite from your cheeseburger as you leaned further on your elbows. “What do you think their story is?”

“Uhhh-” Eddie grumbled, “us from five years ago?” His mouth partially obscured by the burger as he chewed thoughtfully, a furrow in his brow.

“Such a detailed story!” You mocked. He couldn't help but notice how the dim diner lighting accentuated your features—plump lips looking so soft from the way you frustratingly groaned—which brought an unintentional smile to his face.

You were so breathtakingly pretty; even when you were munching on a burger, he was absolutely whipped.

Eddie shrugged, that shit-eating grin still on his face. He looked you dead in the eye before he took another big bite, stuffing more fries into his mouth.

“Fine, I’ll give them a story,” you narrowed your gaze, “and you can keep eating your gross milkshake dipped fries,” you mocked, straightening up your back as you leaned closer, licking your lips before you spoke.

“So the girl… she’s pretty, like really, really pretty.” You said with a sly grin, your gaze now focused on the couple in question; if he wasn’t going to participate, then you could just drag this further.

“And there’s the guy." You gestured toward the other booth, gaze narrowing as you turned back to Eddie. “He’s just... there, I guess, kind of looks like a douche,” you mocked, mouth scrunching as you looked at Eddie all-knowingly, head tilted to the side.

Eddie scoffed, responding with a lighthearted yet passionate defense of himself. “He looks like a total stud,” he grumbled in between bites with a smirk, “and that band-tee? He’s so fuckin’ cool.”

“Oh, yeah?” You challenged, “I think he’s a total nerd, bet he’s telling his dorky D&D stories to his best friend.”

He stuck his tongue out, a carefree grin on his face, “Hey! You said you loved my campaigns!” He exclaimed and playfully tossed a soggy fry at you.

You gasped dramatically, reaching for another fry to retaliate before Eddie’s unreadable expression had you frozen. “Shit, I totally forgot, what time is it?”

“Oh, you’re not getting away with that, Munson, we’re in a full fledged food war now,” you teased, holding a fry aloft, your gaze narrowing in mock seriousness.

“No, no, I’m serious.” Eddie insisted, causing you to huff in response. You turned your back to try to read the old-fashioned clock that stood on the wall.

“Uh… 1.15, why?” you replied, your brows furrowed in confusion, trying to understand him.

“Shit! Shit, shit!” He cursed, getting up quickly while he started gathering his things.

“What?” You asked with a puzzled look.

“Wayne!” He exclaimed making you furrow your brows.

“What about Wayne?”

“I promised to pick him up after his shift,” he explained with a sigh. “You know, since I kinda have the car.”

"Well, when did it end?” you inquired, still calm as you took another bite from your burger.

He eyed you with urgency. “15 minutes ago,” grumbling, he shoved whatever was left of his food into his mouth.

“So, I’m going to see Wayne?” You asked with a smile.

“If we don’t hurry up, you’re going to see me dead,” he exclaimed dramatically, making you roll your eyes.

“You need to inhale all of that, now!” He screeched, and you looked up at him with a pout.

“Now!” He snapped, hands clapping in front of your face.

“Okay, okay, jesus!” You groaned, taking a deep breath, before you shoved a generous handful of fries in your mouth.

When Eddie led you to the car, all you could think about was how Wayne would react—would he be mad at you? Would he be disappointed?

Goosebumps appeared when a chill ran down your spine, you didn’t know if you could handle it. Wayne had been a staple in your life up until you left, he fed you, he listened to you when you needed it, he gave you a place to sleep, and he always reassured you that you were always welcome in their home.

And you didn’t even bother to say goodbye to him. Not that you didn’t want to; it’s because you couldn’t. When you and Eddie left, it was in a hurry. You had no time to tell anyone, not even Eddie told Wayne until you two were half-way there to California.

But it still didn’t stop your guilt, it still didn’t help the way your stomach twisted at the mention of his name.

Your feet picked up quickly as the thoughts filled your head, only stopping when Eddie called out to you. “I have to tell you somethin’” Eddie mumbled, eyes squeezing shut.

A huff of air was quick to escape your lips, you knew it was too perfect to end like this, you knew he was going to ruin it.

“She-uh… she’s coming to brunch tomorrow.”

You froze in place, almost everything fit like a puzzle in your mind now, and you didn’t know which emotion to feel first.

Anger, jealousy, or sadness.

And all three of them hit you at the same time. Because it made sense now, it was clear. He liked Chrissy. He wanted Chrissy.

He wanted to move on with her.

He had your heart in his hands, but this time he wasn’t toying with it; he was stomping on it, over and over again, not stopping until he was sure it was beyond salvageable.

Hand almost frozen in the place you opened the car door without a word, settling into the passenger seat like nothing had happened.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath before he opened his side of the door, getting inside swiftly just to turn to you, “are you not gonna say anything?” he asked, voice carrying a desperate tone.

Your gaze remained fixed outside the window, your cheek pressed against the cool glass. “We’re going to be late,” you replied with a cold, unfeeling tone. Silence filled the car, mirroring the gaping void that now existed between you two.

Thankfully, Aurora didn’t give him any trouble when he started the ignition with a key turn, and the engine roared to life. You didn’t want to speak; you didn’t want to say anything to him. You wanted to save all of your emotions, contain them in the depths of your mind, and cry yourself to sleep. You didn’t want him to know how much this crushed you.

But you couldn’t just do that; too disappointed to let it slide, the words escaped your mouth like a dam breaking, “I can’t fucking believe you.”

“Just, listen, I-I didn’t even invite her-” Eddie tried to explain, but you weren't listening, you didn’t care, you were letting it all out.

“How would you fucking feel if I kissed… Jason in front of you?” Eddie opened his mouth to answer, but you continued, “how would you feel if I invited him to brunch tomorrow?

Once you took a deep breath to gather your thoughts, he scoffed. “That’s not the same thing, Pinky. Carver made my life a living hell, he was a miserable bully.”

You should tell him, you should tell him what exactly Chrissy did to you.

You should tell him the whole story of that night at Steve’s party.

The part he didn’t know.

But you don’t.

Because you’re too busy to worry about whether he actually wants to be with her or not, your mind felt full, anxieties and worries dancing around in it.

“And Chrissy kissed Billy!” Your mouth dried up when that name left your mouth, you could feel that dreadful feeling consuming your chest.

That night was still a blur to you—the way you caught them, the things Chrissy said to you, the way Billy swore that she initiated the kiss.

Eddie shook his head. “She said it was a misunderstanding.”

You rubbed your fingertips on your forehead in disbelief. “And you believe her over me?” you asked, tone carrying a tinge of hurt and betrayal. The question hung heavy between the two of you.

“No, no!” He yelled out. “Jesus fucking Christ, stop putting words in my mouth, Pinky!” Eddie groaned in frustration, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “She explained it was a misunderstanding, and she does want to tell you that, too… maybe you could talk to her—”

You let out an exasperated chuckle, not interested in entertaining the idea. “no fucking way.”

“If you want to be with her, then just fucking say that, Munson, don’t do all this fuckin’ bullshit,” you added, crossing your arms against your chest.

“I don’t want- oh, you’re unbelievable!” He snapped, head bumping against the headrest of his van.

“You make it fucking impossible to start over!”

“Wh-what does that even mean?” You retorted back.

“J-just when I’m about to start over, just when I-I’m going to…” He rolled his tongue inside of his cheek in rage as he paused to better explain himself.

“I find a picture of you in my wallet that you put… or, or Nancy and Jonathan tell me that you invited them over…” You were on the brink of retorting when he continued, “or, or, you- you just barge back into town like you never left; talk to me like nothing fuckin’ happened.”

You didn’t dare to open your mouth; everything he said made you feel guilty. But everything he felt, you felt, too. Each time you felt like moving on, each time you wanted to try to be with someone, you physically couldn’t.

Maybe it was selfish that you liked hearing him feel the same way too. That’s why the way he was being so vague about whatever he had with Chrissy was like a stab to your heart, in the most non-dramatic way possible.

“You know… I used to think you were the best thing that ever happened to me… I used to think that you w-would always be in my life. That you’d be the one fuckin’ person who’d never leave me.” Eddie's voice trembled, and your throat was quick to tighten, lump forming as his words began to sink in. It felt like the car grew darker the more he spoke, your world crumbling down with it.

“I was wrong about all of that... all you fuckin’ did was ruin it… You ruined my life.”

The faint strains of heavy metal playing on the car's stereo seemed distant, before you spoke up, wobbly lips slurring your words. “I… I r-ruined your life?” You slumped back on your seat with his words slicing through you like a knife, gnawing at your insecurities.

“Y-you really think that?” Words barely escaped your lips, voice quivering.

He opened his plushy lips to speak, but he couldn’t answer; words died down in his throat, his gaze fixated on the road, lips pressed into a tight line.

That in itself was an answer, you knew it, and he knew it. You felt exposed to him, like he knew your insecurities but still did nothing to hide them.

You couldn't help but feel a hot prickle behind your eyes, the unshed tears were getting harder to hold back. You bit back on your wobbly lip, in an attempt to conceal the pent-up emotions that were begging to be let out. “This… this whole thing was a mistake,” you murmured, voice hushed and heavy with regret. The words felt like stones in your mouth, bitter and unpalatable.

“We-we were caught up in ourselves, ther-there’s no fuckin’ way we could ever be friends,” you continued, driving home the painful truth, just so you could hurt him like he hurt you, just so you didn’t want him to know how pathetically you still wanted to be with him in any way possible.

“I agree,” he grumbled, eyes still on the road. Tears streamed down your cheeks, tracing glistening paths along your cheeks, you didn’t even attempt to wipe them. Sniffles punctuated the air, body shuddering with an attempt to suppress your sobs, but then again, they were drowned out by the heavy metal music that echoed in the car.

Eddie’s gaze fell on you every few seconds; but you didn’t seem to notice. And the guilt ate away at him, too, his brows furrowed in agony. He knew that wasn’t what he meant to say. He didn’t mean it in that way, you didn’t ruin his life; you never could—well, not until you left him.

His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel; this wasn’t how everything was supposed to happen. He didn’t even invite Chrissy; she asked to come, and of course Eddie said yes, what else could he do? So he just wanted to give you a heads up. Just so things wouldn’t get bad between the two of you again, but he managed to screw it up.

Grumbles and some curses were all the two of you could hear when Eddie pulled up to Wayne’s workplace. With a huff of breath, your car door hung open. “I’ve been waiting for thirty minutes, rockstar; you better have some good fuckin’ excuse-” Wayne’s eyes widened the second his gaze met your sad figure.

“Jesus H. Christ!” Wayne exclaimed as if seeing a ghost. “Am I seein' that right? Is that who I think it is?” Despite the heartache gnawing at your insides, you managed a smile.

"Hi, Wayne," you mumbled shyly. Wayne, however, wasn't having it. "Oh, you're not gettin' off with a simple 'hey,' come over here, kid!" He said excitedly, pulling you into a bear-hug. The embrace was tight enough to make you giggle and sniffle, an unfamiliar smile on your lips.

“Where the hell have ya been?” Wayne inquired once he let you go.

You tried to get up, offering him the front seat, he shook his head, hands holding you down by your shoulders, not wanting to interrupt the two of you.

You told him about everything—New York, your job, how you got here. Everything.

And all Eddie did was drive; he didn’t look at you or even Wayne for all that mattered—not a single glance. And of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by Wayne.

“Alright, kids, you two are bein' weird…” Wayne grumbled, glancing at Eddie. “Tell me what the hell happened. Some kind of lover's quarrel?” Eddie scoffed, and you couldn't help but snap your head in his direction.

"Somethin' funny, boy?" Wayne added, narrowing his gaze at his niece. Eddie sighed but still avoided both of your gazes.

“No, no, uhh- nothing happened.” He murmured.

Your gaze narrowed, and you couldn’t help the anger inside of you. “That’s funny, that is not how I remember it.”

Wayne’s brows furrowed before he leaned closer to the front seat. “What happened, P? You know you can always tell me anythin’” he murmured with a reassuring tone.

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes, but you ignored him, “he is with Chrissy,” you said, scrunching your face as you turned to gauge Wayne's reaction.

Wayne's brows tilted together, his eyes narrowing as he tried to remember that name. “You remember her? Strawberry blonde hair and-”

“The blondie that made you cry?” you nodded, “with that Hargrove kid?”

“See, even Wayne remembers,” you grumbled, slightly elbowing Eddie to get a reaction out of him, only earning an offended huff.

“I never liked him, you know,” Wayne continued, large hands gesturing vaguely to emphasize his point, “always thought you were way too good for him. A guy like him has no business with my Pinky.” You leaned further into the headrest, fingers fiddling with your jacket as you gave Wayne a weak smile.

“Should’ve listened to you,” you hummed.

“So Eddie is with her?” Wayne mumbled, face souring.

“Boy, have you lost your damn mind?” Wayne was quick to chide Eddie, who was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in an attempt to not snap at either of you.

But it wasn’t working.

"I told you I'm not with her!" he hissed, voice dripping with irritation. He shot a glare at Wayne through the rearview mirror, but his words were directed at you.

“How would you explain kissing her and inviting her to our friend's brunch!” You snapped in Eddie’s direction.

“Eddie, tell me you did not do that!”

“It-it’s not like that, Wayne.”

“Oh, really? What is it like?” You gruffly asked, curiosity and hurt evident in your tone.

“Eddie…” Wayne warned him shushingly with a disappointed look, he could see how much you were hurting, and he knew Eddie was a bit oblivious.

“What?” he groaned.

“Don’t worry, Wayne, he just enjoys playing with my feelings,” you replied with a scoff, fingers tracing the pattern on the car’s leather seats, a relief to your pent-up emotions.

“Oh, you’re one to fuckin’ talk,” Eddie muttered under his breath with an out of place chuckle, his anger overflowing after holding it back for so long. “Newsflash, princess. You weren’t the one to wake up all alone in L.A. with one fucking note, I was!” He yelled, words punctuated by the heavy breath he took between each sentence.

“You should be grateful you have two notes in that pocket of yours because I barely got one!”

“Will you stop bringing that up?” You plead, lip wobbling as you bit on it harshly to stop your emotions from spilling.

“‘I can’t do this, sorry.’” He recited your words, and you refused to look at him. “Five letters, Pinky. Not even six. Five. You left me with that—no goodbyes, no nothin’, just a sticky fuckin’ note attached to the fridge.” His head snapped toward you.

A loud chuckle left your mouth, you turned to him with rage, and Wayne knew he had to step in or it was going to get ugly, even uglier than, whatever this was. “This isn’t even about that-”

“Alright, alright!” He interrupted, hands waving in the space between the two of you.

“Simmer down, both of you! I know the two of you have a lot of unresolved shit… but don’t burn this bridge,” he warned, “not again.” Wayne’s words were quick to disperse the emotional fog that had surrounded the car.

“The thing, whatever the hell it is, that y’all have… people spend their whole fuckin’ life lookin’ for it… Don’t be dumb.” That was enough to have the two of you shut up.

“Talk it out.” He said, firm but fair. “I know you’ve both been hurt, so, be honest with each other, and apologize,” he continued, urging both of you to confront each other.

“Okay?” He asked, head hanging in the space between the two of you.

“Okay,” both of you mumbled in unison, backs turned toward each other.

‘Too late’ was all you could think; that bridge was already burned. There was no way the two of you could ever go back now, right?

A sigh of relief escaped your lips when Eddie finally pulled up to your house, you didn’t waste any time saying goodbye to Eddie before turning to Wayne and giving him a hug.

“See you around?” You asked with a hopeful smile.

“You better!” Wayne warned playfully, evoking a giggle from you. “You gotta drop by sometime, promise?” He asked with a sly grin, he knew exactly what he was doing.

You didn’t want to see Eddie anymore than you had to now, but if Wayne asked you to do something, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

You looked back at Eddie, your gazes connecting for a second before both of you turned away. “Uh-huh, promise,” you mumbled before exiting quickly.

“What the hell are you doin’, kid?” Wayne exclaimed the moment you left, causing Eddie to look at him with a puzzled expression.

“Walk her to her door, for Christ’s sake!”

“I-I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Eddie explained hesitantly.

“Where are your manners?” Wayne scolded him, raising his voice. Eddie grumbled in frustration but ultimately gave in, cussing under his breath as he exited the car to follow you.

He ran after you, breathless once he finally caught up to you. “Sorry, I should’ve walked you-” He mumbled

You shook your head interrupting him, “no, it’s fine.”

“So, uhhh…” He started, gaining your attention back to him. “Goodnight.” Eddie grumbled with a scratch of his head, barely able to look at you. He didn’t want to leave things like this, but the damage was already done. You could see the guilt in his eyes, but it didn’t matter now.

He wondered what you would think of the notes; would you even read them? Would you get mad at him for the things he wrote?

“Goodnight, Eddie.” You muttered back, turning to the door as you avoided looking at him, your finger shakily retrieved your key as you fumbled with it, doing everything in your willpower to not turn back at him.

Eddie walked away with the same thoughts eating away at him. Were you going to look back at him? The temptation got the best of him, and he turned with a shy nod. You were struggling with your keys, muttering in frustration, and the sight unintentionally brought a smile to his lips before he hurried back to his car.

The moment you heard his car door open, you turned, slowly and reluctantly, only for your gaze to meet Wayne’s, who had an all-knowing smirk playing at his lips, waving at you.

You gave him a shy smile before you hurriedly turned your back, finally opening the door and rushing inside.

“You idiot lovebirds are goin’ to be the death of me,” Wayne grumbled to himself with a shake of his head, watching the way you scurried inside.

Once you locked the door, you rested against it, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. Your thoughts were swirling,but there was only one thing that was overpowering everything else; the note.

You furiously searched for it in your pocket, curiosity filling the course of your veins as you fished it out of the left one, your hand shaking as you held it in front of your eyes.

The words scribbled in the closed note had your heart racing, afraid of what it was going to say, once you fully opened it, your eyes roamed through it quickly.

The note was dated a week ago.

Don't fool yourself,

She was heartache from the moment that you met her.

My heart feels so still

As I try to find the will to forget her, somehow.

Oh I think I've forgotten her now.

(Is it obvious this last line is sarcasm?)

Your fingers traced the line that had the parenthesis and were crossed out. Eddie’s notes. If you the tears that escaped your burning eyes weren’t distorting your vision, maybe you would’ve appreciated some of the lyrics, and his funny notes, even though they were messy and all over the place.

I don’t blame you, but sometimes I wish we hadn’t met. (This is kinda too out there, but there could be something from this???)

Your heart pounded against your ribcage—that familiar ache that never fully left returned with a sharper pain. It hurt that he thought of you in this way. He thought you ruined his life, and now he wished he had never met you.

Those thoughts sank into your brain, and the anger that came with them was something you couldn’t comprehend. There was a lot more of the scribbled nonsense that you couldn’t read, other lyrics that were scratched out.

Your hands were shaking once you flipped it over. The other note was dated today.

I lied, didn’t I? I think I would prefer all the heartache in the world to not knowing you. I didn’t even realize that until today. Until I saw you across the room. And I can’t even explain how good it felt to look up and see you standing there. Even with that frown adorning your face.

Your tears hadn’t stopped, falling onto the piece of crumpled up paper and making a mess.

You felt like an idiot; you should’ve told him when you had the chance, and you had a lot of them. You were angry that you let everyone walk over you. You were angry that Billy had gotten away with everything. And now, Chrissy had a chance with him without ever paying for the consequences of what she did.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You didn’t want to be polite with your sadness anymore You didn’t want to absorb everyone’s pain to make sure they were okay. And you hated that that’s what you did essentially did when you didn’t tell Eddie about Chrissy.

You paced around the room, biting down on your nails.

Should you tell him? Or was that too selfish?

Because if you wanted to tell him, you had just the perfect opportunity to tell him and confront Chrissy; the brunch.

✦ final authors note —ALSO THE CHRISSY STUFF WILL BE REVEALED NEXT CHAPTER. IM SORRY FOR TEASING IT SO LONG BUT THE REVEAL IS GONNA BE GOOD I PROMISE LMAO. if you like this series pls support me by rbing liking and commenting ily thank youu🫶🏻 [EDIT: i forgot to say this but ofc the lyrics are not mine they are by jeff buckley’s incredible song “forget her” i listened to it A LOT writing this chapter👀 also if u can guess what the chapters title is inspired by ily]

permanent taglist (lmk if u want to be added): @mandyjo8719 @kellsck @batkin028 @hideoutside @sashaphantomhive @nabiiturner @andvys (ILY.)

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #getaway car series #getaway car

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mingsoooo · 1 month ago

Text

Hallow

Pair: sunghoon & reader

genre: hallow Ball romance, kiss, past lives.

Word count: 1.5+ words

Synopsis: Your school invited your grade to a hallow ball which was unusual but what was more unusual was that you met these two men. What were you supposed to do when you met one of them in a dark narrow path?

Author notes: Uh... Tbh, I would need to make a second chapter about this to make sense of this chapter lol. Well, it was fun to write but there are still a lot of loopholes so, hopefully, I can continue it. For now, please enjoy it! Hopefully next one will be a full-fledged R18 smut chapter cuz sunghoon has quite alot of pent-up emotions. ><

"Y/N!!! Who could have thought that our school would organize a ball? Uh, I still don't believe it." Lily gleefully spoke. She wore a dress inspired by the nineteenth century. It was a lemon-yellowish dress with a full hem and short sleeves, which were full.

"Me neither. But I'm glad. I have always wanted to celebrate Hallow this way at least once," you answered. You wore a red and black dress that had black flowers sewn on the hem—a perfect costume for the hallow with the air of the past and the Gothic.

You were a part of a private school that was managed by the largest business in the country, the Park's. Apart from the government, they were the runner of the country, from the most luxurious schools to the factories, buses, and everything. And apparently, three of the family members of the park's were in the same grade as you.

Perhaps they had demanded this type of celebration, which was why such an exception was made, as usually for Halloween, the school only provided holidays.

"You know, Y/N, some girls earlier in the bathroom were talking about how the heirs of the park's are also attending the Halloween celebration today." Lily's eyes glinted while you could only pull off a smile.

"I hope we don't run into them then," you replied. After all, any interaction with the rich people was only a quicker way to death.

As a commoner, you had enrolled in the academy with a scholarship. You had a family that was being torn apart, all because of the expensive fees despite the lower cost. You had a dream, and most of all, you were in a land of wolves. Lily was an exception, perhaps because she mostly lived away from society, abroad, but not you.

You knew well about all the eyes of the people who wished for you to leave, thinking you were a leech of some sort.

"Aww, don't say such bad things with such a warm smile, y/n." Lily patted your back while walking down the hallway, which was decorated in gothic decor. The lights were dim, and luxurious paintings were hung in the narrow pathway, which had a few fake cobwebs and even fingers of humans hung.

After walking for about the next ten minutes, you finally arrived at the ballroom. When the guards opened the door, the magnificent hall was decorated with golden paint, and hundreds of paintings were revealed. The music was sad and slow. All were dressed in Victorian yet modern dresses. Some drank the red wine while some danced.

"Y/n-ah! We have to dance as well!! Let's downstairs go!" Lily excitedly pulled your wrist down the velvet stairs while your eyes remained vigilant, but your heart felt unsettled. As you were running downstairs while looking towards the vault of the hall. It had a painting of seven men raising their glasses.

But just as you were gazing more closely, suddenly a strong something hit your shoulders. Huh?

"Ah-" You whined while Lily's hands abruptly left you, making your balance shaky. As your heels were tall, your body almost fell backwards, but in a swish of a moment, a man caught you by the waist.

His eyes were filled with boredom, and he wore pristine clothes. A neat black tux with slick hair. It was just for a brief moment, but as your eyes locked with his, the subtle changes in him were so fast, you couldn't help but be fascinated.

"Uh, thank you for helping me." Your eyes looked away while the tips of your ears were rosy and warm. It hadn't gone unnoticed, but Sunghoon only gave a nod before heading upwards.

"Y/n! I'm so sorry."

"That's okay. But let's head down now."

"Eh"

You intertwined your hands with Lily while walking down the grandiose stairs. By the time you had arrived, the music changed right away, signifying the change in partners. So, despite the awkwardness just for Lily, you too decided to participate in the ball dance.

"May I?" A man wearing a golden tux got on his knees and kissed the back of your palm. His eyes were sharp and hazel, almost as if he were staring at your soul. His expressions were quick to change from a condescending man to a caring gentleman, his hair neatly set, and he had a flirty gaze. He was perhaps one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. A perfectly sculpted nose and soft kissable lips.

The time went on, but you could only take a gulp. While the heartbeat accelerated, you took a sign, closed your eyes, and replied, "Yes, please."

Gently, he pressed his lips on the back of your hand while locking eyes with you. It was just an act, and yet, it made your heart race.

Focus Y/n focus!! You chanted while the man took the lead.

The soft music began to play, and as he pressed his hand on your waist while you kept your palm on his shoulder, you danced.

"I am Jake," he spoke behind your ear while holding you close. The dance was far from over, but you could already feel your legs giving up.

"Y/N," you too revealed, but after a long silence. Jake was handsome, but he caught too much attention. You could feel the glares and daggers and burning sensation behind your head. Right when the music was over, you immediately gave a bow and ran away from the hall, asking one of the servers for the way to the bathroom.

"Tsk, always on the tip of her toes." Jake rolled his eyes while instantly being surrounded by a crowd of women who wished to dance with him next.

He was dangerous! He was wild! He was something else! But he was not the way he portrayed himself to be!

As per the instructions of the server, you continued to run through the narrow hall, which was only lit by a couple of candles, which were soon about to burn out. "Phew," you breathed out while still pinching the hem of the skirt and running for your life.

"Ah," you were stopped by a strong force. It was warm but sturdy.

'huh?'

Your hands pressed on the wall-like thing with both your hands while you looked upward only to meet with the same man again from before. This time her hair was ruffled. His necktie was slightly loosened, and his eyes were hostile instead of bored.

"What are you doing here?" He glared down at you while his gruff voice enveloped the silence of the narrow path. As you looked at your hand placement, suddenly you realized it was his chest! "Ah!!" you screamed in lowercase while taking your hands to your sides. Blood rushed to the apples of your cheeks due to embarrassment.

"I am running away," you blurted out. It was sudden, and although you were telling the truth, the ma gave a side eye before his eyes landed on your open shoulders and tender neck, which gave you some time to look at him closer.

He was handsome, almost like a work of art. He had chiseled jaws, thick brows, and sharp eyes, with a tall nose that was perfectly sculpted. But he had an icy and dangerous feel to him. As you continued to admire him, suddenly a hand made both your hands pin to the wall behind you while a thick pair of top lips pressed on yours.

"Umm--um!" It was all too sudden, and as you tried to shake off his strong grip, your muffled muffles soon were so pressed down by his kiss. His kiss was soft, almost heart-fluttering despite him dominating you.

He kissed each part of your lips, then gently nibbling them down. Right after, he started to kiss your jaw, then your neckline, while you continued to feel it all, tears in your eyes. It felt wonderful; somehow his touch was warm and almost melting, but it was your first kiss!

It was supposed to be special! But to whom could you tell about it? Who would take the side of the poor, especially when the man before you were definitely someone with lots of power and position? It was sweet but bitter. Still, as Sunghoon continued to kiss down on your neck, he found a sweet spot right between the shoulder and the neck. It was sweet; it smelt heavenly, almost mouth-drooling.

"It's my first kiss," you whimpered with teary eyes. As if out of a hallucinating dream, Sunghoon suddenly let go of your hands. His eyes looked to the ground while biting his lips.

Were you free? Could you run? You were not sure, but the very moment he let go, you started to run away, reaching for the door. While Sunghoon could only look your way.

"Fuck," he muttered while still listening to your footsteps. He knew he had fucked up, but how could he stop? Especially when he had held back for a thousand years.

#enhypen imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut

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blessedwithabadomen · 10 months ago

Text

The Hands of Temptation

Oli Sykes x Reader x Noah Sebastian • smut 🔥 • 3.7k words

Hi!! This is my first time writing both Oli and Noah because I've been bloody obsessed with them since they started this tour together and I'm already working on a longer story with several chapters because I'm nowhere near done with these two!! I hope you enjoy this, comments and reblogs and asks would be lovely and soooo appreciated 💗

•••

Taking time off from work to follow a tour wasn’t exactly anything new to you. Live music had been your saving grace for years and you’d basically started travelling to see shows as soon as you’d turned old enough to rent hotel rooms. It was a lifestyle you were well adjusted to. This tour, however, still held a sense of excitement and novelty that wasn’t even remotely comparable to those you’d done in the past - mainly because this time, you were following your boyfriend’s tour.

Your train had gotten into Cardiff terribly late, leaving you to hop into a cab immediately and all but dump your suitcase in Oli’s dressing room before roaming the venue to find him. You waved to several people you’d gotten to know over the past months you’d been dating Oli until someone pointed you into a direction that seemed promising and then finally, finally the arms you’d been missing so much were wrapped around your body.

In fact, you had barely registered that you had found the right place when you were pressed agains a solid chest, strong hands keeping you in his embrace, a familiar scent infiltrating your nose. You relaxed into him immediately, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you let all tension go, holding onto the man you loved.

“Missed you so much,” he mumbled into you hair, pressing a soft short kiss to it before letting you go. You finally took all of him in.

He was prepared for the show already, dressed in his stage outfit, in all red, a cropped jacket and nothing underneath. You let your hands run over the skin on his belly, moving upwards to rest them on his chest. He smirked down at you, only reluctantly taking hold of your wrists and removing himself from your touch.

“Love, if you don’t keep your hands off me, I’ll never get on stage.”

You made a second attempt, allowing him to let go of you just for you to immediately reach for him again, but he was quicker. With a surprisingly smooth move, he had you pinned against the wall behind you, hands over your head, lingering close but not touching in any other way than to keep you still.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not enjoying this,” you teased back.

“That’s why I need to keep you at arm’s length. Because in a minute, I’ll be enjoying this too much.”

Oli pressed his lips to yours, soft and strong at the same time, and you wanted nothing more than to deepen the kiss, but as quickly as he was on you, he was gone again.

“Now be a good girl and behave. Until after the show.”

The door flying open was as unexpected as it was shocking, making you jump slightly under Oli’s grip. Both of you turned your heads toward the intruder, which turned out to be none other than Noah Sebastian, looking like a deer in the headlights. Oli didn’t even pretend to let go of you a little.

“Wrong fucking room, Noah,” Oli shouted, but not without a grin on his face. It seemed to pull Noah out of his stupor. He shook his head, clearly amused at the situation, giving you one more look before shutting the door again.

But oh, you’d seen something in his eyes.

•••

It was over halfway through Bring Me The Horizon’s set, which you were watching with awe and love from the side of the stage, hidden away from the view of everyone apart from the band itself, when Noah made his next appearance. You knew from Oli that he was going to go on stage with him for Antivist, but he was a little early and you couldn’t help but wonder if you played a part in that.

“Noah, but I think you already know that,” he said as he offered you his hand. Your eyes travelled over the tattoo there, how it made his large hand look almost delicately beautiful, before taking it. You almost jerked away when his skin touched yours, an electric current making its way through your body and ending right between your legs.

When you looked up at his face again, you knew you weren’t the only one who felt it. He quickly pulled back, as if your touch was fire to his skin. For a moment, you genuinely questioned why. Then you remembered he had seen you with Oli. He had no reason to know it was fair game still.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you were staring at each other when a stage hand appeared out of nowhere to let him know he was going to be on in a minute. All you could do was quickly tell him your name in return before he took his place, put on his mask, and seconds later, walked out onto the stage to roaring applause.

The two of them were a force to behold together. You couldn’t take your eyes off them. Their voices, their performance, their energy. You wondered how all of it would translate to an entirely different domain.

•••

For some reason, you were still backstage. The show had ended a little while ago and usually, Oli would be impatient to leave, get you to a hotel room and do everything he’d been promising to do for you for weeks, but instead, you both lingered. You were in his lap, leaning against his chest, his hands possessively tracing over your legs, and when you saw Noah take a seat opposite you, you wondered if this had been Oli’s plan all along.

Noah had buried his head in his phone, but you could easily see him glancing over the edge of the screen again and again. You noticed a movement from your boyfriend, a cough, and suddenly the backstage room was empty bar the three of you. Oli pulled you a little closer. You could feel his heartbeat against your back and you wondered if it was the same for him.

“Trust me?” he asked, as if it was any question at all. If there was one thing our whole relationship centered around it was the idea of full, unquestionable, all-enveloping trust. It had always been detrimental for you, but being in an open realtionship now, there was simply no way for it to work without it. So yes, you trusted him, fully, with your whole being. Whatever he was planning, whatever he wanted to do to you, with you, for you, he knew your limits as well as your kinks and fantasies. So you melted into his arms, ready and willing for him to take the reigns.

“Good show, Noah,” Oli turned to him. Any secret spying over the edge of his phone screen was immediately abandoned to openly stare back at your boyfriend… and you. It removed all other thoughts from your brain, your ears suddenly unable to take in the small talk they were pretending to have, as you felt yourself coming alive under Noah’s eyes.

Under Noah’s eyes and Oli’s hands. His fingers were toying with your fishnet tights, pulling at the strings and letting it snap back against your skin, the warmth of his hands seeping through, becoming bolder, moving all over. There was no break in the conversation, no sign that he was affected at all, as he put his hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading them apart, but you could feel him against you, growing harder already. Noah gulped audibly which would have gotten a chuckle out of you if Oli hadn’t chosen that moment to toy with the soft fabric of your hotpants.

Noah was apparently losing the gift of speech quickly, as his sentences made less and less sense, ridden with fillers and pauses, eyes flicking up and down your body. You were happy to indulge him. Spreading your legs a little further still, Oli chuckled into your ear, obviously amused at you being so eager, and let his fingers slip under the crotch of your shorts. It was a tight squeeze that had you gasping at the sudden intensity of his touch, even through your panties, but it had the desired effect on Noah, who stood up rather abruptly, then sat back down as the realisation dawned that his pants left nothing to the imagination anymore, a pillow thrown into his lap. You couldn’t help but sigh at the idea of getting a little closer to the very thing tenting his fabric now.

“You wanna fuck her, don’t you?” Oli said, voice still fully under control as his fingers moved slightly against your heat. “Seen the way you look at my girlfriend. Were you gonna do anything about that or just go back to your room and jack off?”

Noah was back on his feet now, wincing slightly as he held the pillow closer, as if it made any difference at all, a defensive stance as he took a step back. “Listen, Oli, I’m sorry, I know she’s your girl, I wasn’t-”

Oli’s laugh stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Sit the fuck down, Noah.” In his apparent confusion, he did as told. “I love this one more than anything,” Oli said, pressing a quick kiss to your hair that added a flutter to your stomach that, for once, had nothing to do with his hand between your legs. “But you know how it is. We don’t always see each other a lot. Tour, recording, her work. So we’ve got an agreement. When we’re apart, we’re free to fuck other people. Well… we’re not apart right now, but we might try something new. Isn’t that right, love?” You could only nod, more than ready to go with whatever he was planning. “Don’t you wanna take Noah here back to our room? While I watch? Bet he can fuck you real good.”

Noah’s pillow was all but forgotten. You didn’t know him very well, but he didn’t seem like the type to be lost for words very often, but now, not a single sound managed to leave his mouth as he stared at you, Oli’s hand between your thighs, Oli’s face, back to yours, as if waiting for someone to jump up and call it all a prank.

When it didn’t come, his reaction was clear.

“I’ll call a taxi.”

•••

Hooking up with a stranger wasn’t new. Hooking up with Noah Sebastian while your boyfriend was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the hotel room watching your every move proved to be very different. His eyes seemed to be burning holes into you and if you had been any less sure that he was more than into this, it would have made you self-conscious.

But Noah was looking down at you with hunger and desire and it made your skin prickle in a way that had you anticipating his every move.

“No kissing on the mouth,” you explained. It was the one rule that you and Oli had given each other and you’d never disregarded it. As far as you knew, neither had he. “Apart from that…” You slung your arms around his neck, pulling him slightly down to you, letting your breath hit his ear as you spoke. “...do with me whatever you like.”

He didn’t wait for any further invitation. His lips were on your neck, a soft kiss turning into a bite within seconds, his arms wrapping around you, hands coming to rest on your ass. You sighed into him as your fingers tangled into his hair, but he didn’t indulge you for long. Walking you backwards, step by step, you felt him lift his head away from you, only for him to push you onto the bed with such force that the mattress bounced under your body once, twice, before settling down.

Without letting you out of his sight, Noah started undressing. Your eyes were trained on him as he took off his shirt, revealing a body that had you even more impatient for what was to come, followed by his trousers, revealing a growing hard-on. You instinctively sat up, reaching out for him, but he gave you a simple look that had you listen to every word he didn’t even need to say.

When it came to undressing you, he abandoned all thoughts of being gentle. Your shirt was all but ripped from your body before he went to work on your shorts, pulling them down along with your fishnets. A gasp left your mouth as his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, right where Oli’s had been just a little while ago.

Oli.

Your eyes wavered away from Noah as you turned your head toward your boyfriend. Oli had slid down the seat a little, eyes considerably darker than the last time you’d looked at them, mouth slightly open, palming himself over his trousers. He was a fucking vision.

“Eyes on me,” Noah barked, immediately making you turn back as he roughly pushed the cups of your bra down, not even bothering to remove the piece of clothing completely as his mouth descended on your breasts. You arched against him enthusiastically, hands back in his hair, as he flicked his tongue against your nipple, fingers massaging the other, then bit down on it with such sudden ferocity that you gasped and moaned all at once. Switching to your other tit, his movements remained unpredictable, keeping you on the edge as he varied between soft touches and harsh treatments.

“You love it, don’t you,” he mumbled against your neck as he peppered it with love bites that would surely bruise by tomorrow. “Having him watch us. Knowing I’m gonna fuck you until you scream. Knowing I get to touch all of you. That I’m gonna be the one to make you come undone. And all he can do it watch and wish it was him.”

All you could do was babble in nonsensical agreement, grasping at whatever flesh you could find, unable to focus on anything in particular, with his mouth on your neck, one of his hands still on your breast as the other started tugging at the waistband of your soaked panties, his dick hard against your leg. Your thighs wrapped around him on their own accord, you were barely aware of it, until he chuckled in your ear, calling you desperate. You knew you were. You didn’t mind. You knew Oli loved you like this, too.

“Can I eat you out?” The change in tone from Noah almost gave you whiplash. It amazed you how quickly he could switch from dominant, almost mean, to careful, attentive to you comfort. You nodded enthusiastically. Your panties were being dragged down your legs. “Spread those thighs for me, show us how wet you are.”

It was only when Noah slid down your body that you realised that Oli had not only gotten up from his seat, but had gotten rid of a majority of his clothes too, only his boxershorts remaining, one hand vanished underneath the fabric as he stroked himself, positioning his body closer to the bed to get a front-view seat of what was happening. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly, but having another man go down on you, touch you, kiss and bite the insides of your thighs as your boyfriend watched, so obviously turned on by the sight of it all, had you feeling close to climax long before Noah actually slipped his tongue into you.

It was unexpected. You had anticipated it on your clit, perhaps sloppily licking against you, but instead it was inside of you and fuck, he knew what he was doing.

You could have spent eternity with his head between your legs, but as good as his tongue and his fingers were against and inside and all over you, you desperately needed more. Clawing at the back of his head, you pulled him up, groaning at the sight of his chin, his mouth covered in your wetness. It almost made you want him to continue.

“Please, Noah,” you whined instead, “more, I need you.”

You didn’t know where Oli had kept the condom, but it was being handed to Noah the second he moved, as your boyfriend climbed onto the bed next to you. Leaning down to you, he put a hand on your throat, lightly enough not to choke, but with enough pressure to let you know he was there. It distracted you enough that it came as a surprise when you felt Noah’s dick push against you. Your legs fell apart once more and as soon as he started entering you, you were reduced to nothing more but a moaning mess.

“Fuck her hard.”

Noah didn’t hesitate. As soon as he filled you up, he set up a hard, punishing rhythm that had you moving up and down the bed with every thrust. He was so big inside of you that you were sure he would be able to split you in two if he tried and you loved it. His groans were spurring you on further, lost in the way he was trying to hold on as he fucked you, your boyfriend’s hand still on you, then another hand on your clit, you weren’t sure whose, it didn’t matter. You felt yourself getting closer, closer, but it wasn’t quite getting you there, so close to the edge but something was missing, your nails clawing at whatever you could find.

“Kiss her,” Oli decided.

Noah almost faltered in his rhythm, almost.

You looked up at Oli, questions filling your brain as your brows furrowed, wanting to ask if he was sure about this, if he really wanted to cross that line, making sure that he wasn’t just saying it in the heat of the moment, but he nodded and you believed what you saw in his eyes. It was all you needed to grab onto the back of Noah’s neck and pull him to you, his lips meeting yours in frenzied movements as he never ceased fucking you roughly.

It worked immediately. With his mouth on yours and his tongue still carrying your taste, he gave you a searing kiss that had you falling apart. Just like he had told you earlier, you almost screamed as you came onto his dick and he relentlessly fucked you through it until you were whimpering, begging for a break, your whole body shaking.

“Fuck, love, I’m gonna need to shag you,” Oli groaned. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Noah pulled out of you, almost leaving you crying at the sudden emptiness, and your mind was still a whirlwind as two sets of hands started manipulating your body, pushing and pulling at you, with care but firmly, until you were in the desired position.

“Gonna suck me off while he fucks you?” Noah asked. He was sitting in front of you now, stroking his large dick, begging you to do for him what he had just done for you, as Oli pushed you on all fours, ass up toward him. You couldn’t even answer Noah before your boyfriend entered you. There was no time for you to come down or for your body to recover as Oli started fucking you, aided by the wetness Noah had caused between your thighs. You quickly nodded at the younger man, moving his hands away to envelop his dick with your mouth.

He shouldn’t have tasted that good, he really shouldn’t have, but as he started rutting up against you, all you could do was relax your throat as much as possible and take him deep, swallowing it all, enjoying the heaviness of it on your tongue. Noah’s hand in your hair pushed you down further. Oli had no qualms about taking what he needed either. His fingers were digging into your hips, holding you just the way he wanted you, thrusting into you again and again to the point where you knew you’d have trouble walking tomorrow. It immediately made the fire in your belly start up again, rising to a crescendo in record time.

“You gonna come again?” Oli grunted from behind you. “You gonna suck him off and come on my dick?”

You wanted to nod, you wanted to answer him, but all you could do was hum in agreement. The vibration was enough to set Noah off as he came, low groans accompanying him coming down your throat in spurts, and you did your best to swallow it all, licking him clean when he finally let go of your head. Oli immediately doubled his efforts, fucking you faster and harder and you didn’t think it was going to get any better until he told you to touch yourself. You obeyed.

Squeezing around him was all it took for Oli to shoot his load. Holding you tightly in place, he chanted you name as he filled you up. You came again, sobbing, your arms failing to hold you up anymore, fully collapsing on the bed. He carefully pulled out, making sure you landed safely on the mattress, harsh fingertips now soft.

You knew you needed to get cleaned up, get settled properly, but exhaustion and pure satisfaction came over you in equal waves, so you stayed, lying on your front, a serene smile on your face. Oli was next to you, on his back, turning his head just enough to grin widely at you. Taking your hand, he left a sweet kiss on your palm.

There was some shuffling behind you and when you lifted your head just enough to see, you realised that Noah was halfway out the bed already. Quickly reaching out for him, you stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Hey, don’t go.”

He looked back at you and Oli. He was entirely fucked out but now that the passion was fading, he seemed almost insecure at intruding.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna-”

“Whatever my girl says goes,” Oli commented.

Noah only took one more second before dropping back into bed with the two of you, slinging an arm around your middle and hugging close to you.

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a cuddler,” you grinned as Oli mirrored his movements from the other side, effectively caging you into the safest embrace you’d ever known.

“I’m sure there’s a lot left to find out,” he chuckled.

Oli laughed from behind you. “Good thing we got the rest of tour to have fun with that.”

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #oli sykes #oli sykes fic #noah sebastian smut #oli sykes smut #noah sebastian x reader #oli sykes x reader #noah sebastian imagine #oli sykes imagine

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grimoireofhayley · 1 year ago

Text

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

Word Count: 1.6k

WARNINGS: Graphic content, Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk, Religion talk, Suppressed Mental Health problems (I.e., reader has some issues that she isn't aware of)

Taglist: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123 @darkenwolfie @juda-the-simp @colsons-baker @junnniiieee07 @ok-boke @ren-ni @katie-tibo @bruce-yamada @kenma-izhu @cookielovesbook-akie @elevenpurple @hyunlix-world @mavix @halleest

A/n: Oh-my-god, I am so sorry for the major delay! Trust me, I was in the middle of writing the chapter the same day I said I would post it, but being a mom is super-duper busy and they will always come first and I completely forgot to post the chapter, but here it is FINALLY.. My twins are now 3 so they’re acting like teenagers, but toddler form; super bossy, extremely demanding, always and I MEAN always keeping me on my feet. Plus, I had to re-write it as I didn’t like how the first attempt at chapter 14 sounded 😮‍💨 Anyways, I barely have time to write, but when I can, I hope you all enjoy it. I hope this chapter is up to your liking! More chapters are still on the way, A LOT MORE. Keep in mind, the Billy scene in previous chapters and this scene is my first time writing smut/smut related things… 😓😓😓 Lastly, Thank You ALL so much for getting me to 405 followers! I’m in disbelief 🫢💜

All Chapter Links 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 14

Gulping, you shakily took the phone off the counter, hanging it up and unplugged it from the wall, making sure no calls would come through anymore that night for her sake.

Looking over, you saw Sidney gripping at her brown hair, pulling it in every direction, her jaw clenched, yet, her teeth chattering; she wanted to scream, shout and cry, but couldn’t. Her pale features now a rouge from both exhaustion and terror. Her sanity seemed to slip away bit-by-bit each time Ghostface would call; preying on her, taunting her, humiliating her.

“What, what!?” Dewey came running from his room, waving a gun around in his white t-shirt and blue and white striped boxers.

Tatum tsk-ed at her brother’s tardiness, pushing passed him to follow Sidney.

You rubbed the nape of your neck, placing your other hand on Dewey’s shoulder, “Next time.. maybe be a little quicker.” You laughed, half-heartedly, trying to make light of the situation, seeing how confused Dewey seemed to be.

“(Y/n) (L/n) and Sidney Prescott who were both…”

Before the news reporter finished his sentence, Dewey shut the tv off, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table, sitting down.

“Billy was released.”

Your ears perked at the sound, relief washing over.

Sidney’s eyes lit up, but she still clearly had her doubts.

“His cellular bill was clean. He didn’t make those calls..” Dewey stated, grabbing a carton of milk before pouring some of it into his coffee. “We’re checkin’ every cellular account in the county.” Dewey finished, taking a long gulp of his un-sweetened drink before continuing. “(Y/n), Sidney..” He eyed both of you, “Any calls made to you two or Casey Becker are being cross-referenced, it’s going to take some time, but we’ll find him.”

Tatum nudged you and smiled at Sidney.

Dewey pulled into the school lot with ease, parallel parking at the curb.

He got out and opened the door for you and Sidney.

You smiled at him, thanking him quietly, and he tilted his hat at you as Sidney got out next.

However, your smile quickly faded, seeing a reporter running towards your side; most likely to ambush both you and Sidney about what happened.

“(Y/n) how does it feel to know the murderer is lusting after you and nearly butchering your friends? Do you know who the killer is, are you a part of his twisted game?” A red head asked, shoving a mic at you, accusing you of being his partner-in-crime.

You scoffed, irritated, but somehow calm, honoured that she knows the killer wants you.

“What about you, Sidney? How does it feel to be almost brutally killed?”

Sidney bit her lip, already wanting to cry.

Dewey stepped in front, shoving the reporter away.

“Hey, leave them alone!” He shouted, towering over the petite woman.

She stumbled back, but wasn’t giving up.

“People want to know. They have a right to know!”

You, Tatum and Sidney bolted, getting away from all the interrogations this woman was sure to have up her sleeves.

You were pressed against a locker; your mid back arched causing your torso to move forward; and your arms folded, pushing your breasts together, making them pop out.

“This is a mistake, I shouldn’t be here…” Sidney huffed, grabbing her books and slamming her locker door shut.

You sighed, plopping a sucker in your mouth; twirling the red treat around your tongue, pursing your lips tightly around it and without meaning to, your eyes landed on Stu who was already watching you.

You blushed and he smirked, liking how you looked with your mouth full.

“I want you to meet me right here after class, okay, Sid?” Tatum spoke and Sidney nodded.

“Hey, Stu, I haven’t seen Billy around… is he really pissed?”

Stu tore his gaze from you, looking at Sidney.

“Oh, you mean after you branded him the Candyman?”

You shoved Stu slightly, giving him a glare.

He winced, “No, his heart’s broken—“

Suddenly a scream was heard and the four of you looked into the direction it came from, spotting a student running down the hall dressed as Ghostface.

You blushed again, seeing the full cloaked figure and that ghostly-white mask again.

‘Fuck, that’s hot.’ You smirked slightly, turning your head to the side, trying to subtly check out the student who’s dressed up like the murderer, you let out a quiet “Mmph” squeezing your thighs together.

Unbeknownst to you, Stu heard your moan, and knew exactly what you were doing with your thighs. Luckily, the others did not, but he is so glad that he did. He can smell the hormones leaking off of you; they were practically oozing with want for the cloaked-killer.

He bit his lip, trying to contain his excitement.

“Why are they doing this?” Sidney spoke, watching the student run away.

Stu, glanced at you, “Are you kidding me? Look at this place, it’s like Christmas!” He laughed, a devious smirk prying at his lips as the comment was directed at you. You were his Christmas, knowing the woman he wants is full blown horny for him, for Ghostface.

Tatum huffed, hitting him with the lollipop you had given her prior, “Stupidity leak.”

“Hey!” Stu shrieked, immediately looking at his girlfriend, while the school bell blared, signalling the start of class and students were quick to get going.

Sidney ran down the hall, upset at Stu’s comment and Tatum ran after her. You sighed, looking down, picking up your bag in the process. You went to go wave ‘bye’ to Stu, but he vanished.

“Huh?” You mumbled out loud, seeing how he was gone and so was every other student that was there nearly two minutes ago. “That’s my cue…”

Tapping your fingers against your hip, you hummed to the tune of ‘Your Dead’ by Norma Tanega.

You stopped in front of the janitors closest to reach for your Walkman that was in your bag, wanting to blare the song in your ears, hoping that actually listening to the catchy tune would make it stop repeating itself inside your head.

Though, the universe had other plans…

You felt the door swing open, hitting you, knocking you out of the way, making you drop your only source of music.

Soon after, a hand covered your mouth and an arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the closet.

A scream hitched in your throat as the unknown figure flicked the light on, revealing who the culprit was…Stu.

“Stu, what the actual fuck was that for!?” You narrowed your eyes, clenching your fist, ready to punch him out of fear.

He laughed, but soon afterwards told you to be quiet, locking the door behind him as he stepped forward.

“Shh, I don’t want anyone to hear us.” He whisper-yelled, getting closer to you, placing both hands on either side of your arms.

He was a good two-to-three feet taller than you.

“I saw you, you know…” He bit his lip again, rolling the flesh with his teeth, gripping your arms tighter.

You looked up at him, confused, not sure what he meant, however, a part of you knew where this might be going.

“The way your face went red, how you rubbed your thighs together..” He taunted, poking your nose, “Let’s not forget that sweet-little moan you let out when you saw that student…” He leaned into the crease of your collarbone, nipping at the skin, the coolness of his lips penetrating your warmth.

Your face was hot with yearn, but also embarrassment. “The student who was dressed as the Woodsboro slasher…” He grinned, feeling you shiver at his touch.

“W-what—“ You began, trying to act like you didn’t know what he was talking about; ashamed that you were caught. You were quickly silenced by Stu pressing his lips against yours, his bulge pushing up against your side.

His fingers danced across your arms to the string of your grey tank top, ripping it from your body with force as the sound of the thin material shredding lingered in your ears. Fortunately for Stu, you didn’t have a bra on…

Your breasts jiggled from the impact, bouncing in place which caused a small guttural growl to emit from Stu’s throat.

Stu immediately grabbed your boob in his right hand, rubbing his thumb across the perky bud, while his other hand gripped at your bare side, his fingers digging into your ribs.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, staring at the finger prints you already had bruised into your skin. They almost lined up with his own marks, but his were slightly bigger. Stu only quirked a brow, continuing to fondle your breast, not wanting to ruin the moment by asking.

Stu trembled at the thought of someone else having you, but he was sure to find out who and kill him.

“M-mm..” You let out a breathy moan, making Stu lose track of his thoughts,“But T-Tatum—“ you stuttered, holding back another sound as he slid his hand into your shorts, rubbing your clit through the silk of your panties.

He hooked his finger under the band, pulling you even closer, his forehead pressing up against your own.

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#fanfiction #scream 1996 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #billy x you x stu #scream franchise #stu macher #billy loomis x female reader #billy x stu #stu macher x female reader #stu matcher x reader #stu macher smut #stu x reader

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atlasofthestaars · 10 months ago

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[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .016

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Not much to say here but, I hope you guys enjoy this one! Still trying to get back in the groove of updating quicker, but with college life comes more responsibilities I'm afraid haha. I think in this chapter there will be something some of you guys have been waiting for a while now :)!

FROM THE EYES OF SOMEONE WHO DOES SOMETHING A LITTLE DIFFERENT

“You don’t have to do this with me.”

“I don’t mind.” You replied, not even bothering to look up from the recount of events you were writing. You felt Sonya Blade’s gaze bore into you. From how intense it felt, you understood why she was so respected in her field. If she had magic powers, you would have guessed she would have had magic beams that shoot from her eyes.

Even without looking at her, you could tell she had a concerned look on her face. One that you’ve experienced plenty of times lately, not just from her either. While touched, you were feeling horrible lately about it all. “I’d have to do this eventually, I expect, plus I would feel awful leaving you to do this alone.”

It was the day after the showdown with Shao Khan. Well, to say the day after was rather misleading. It was just barely midnight, the new day having just barely rolled in. And here you were, sitting in a Special Forces office with your friend, Sonya Blade, writing up a report of events that had gone down the day of the whole affair.

You hadn’t eaten, slept, or even bathed. You still wore the tattered clothes, all scratched and messy from being tossed around. Dried blood still stuck to you like glue. But that was by choice. You didn’t want to spend a moment too long by yourself to let your thoughts creep in about what happened in the last twenty four hours. You suppressed a shiver at the idea.

If you were going to be forced to think about it, you’d rather do it doing something productive, and not by yourself.

You didn’t want to even think about what would happen if you let whatever happened truly soak in.

“You sure you don’t want to go back with Raiden?” Sonya inquired, her words carrying a sense of caution. It was odd to hear from the usually bold and blunt woman, but it was charming to hear her be empathetic towards you. You set down your pen, setting it aside. You had a feeling this would be a talking break.

“No, I can contact Lord Raiden myself whenever we’re done here.” You said, lifting your gaze to meet her eyes. The concerned look you had imagined to be on her face felt like an understatement now. The usually guarded, professional woman felt like an open book. Or maybe, you’ve gotten better at reading her after the couple of years you’ve gotten to know her for.

You weren’t ready to face Raiden yet. You weren’t sure why, but the thought of facing the thunder god made your stomach churn. You felt guilt at just the thought of having to look at him. So many people had died, many people you might have been able to save if you had just stayed behind.

“You should really rest.” The blonde urged, her eyes scanning you. You held back a small pitiful laugh. The woman in front of you was a workaholic, it was strange to hear her tell you that. And yet, from the way she looked at you, you could tell you looked like an utter wreck. Your fingers brushed your cheek, and you wondered silently just whose blood was on your fingertips.

“I wish I could, Lieutenant.” You replied. You just noticed how exhausted your voice sounded. It was like you had dragged yourself out of the darkest pits of the netherrealm, which probably wasn’t too far off. Your fingers drummed on the wood of the desk, trying to fill the silence of the room. Your eyes looked around before you settled them back onto Sonya. “Can I just be honest for a moment?”

“Anytime.” She reassured you. You saw her straighten out her back, making her perfect posture just that more pristine. Your eyes seemed to drill into your own, as if she was trying to reach into your soul. You couldn’t imagine how intimidating she’d look if she were to be interrogating someone.

“I don’t think I can rest until I know that our friends are avenged.” You admitted. Even with your admission, the weight on your shoulders didn’t lighten. If anything, it felt like it got a bit heavier, as if the weight of your ambitions had finally settled in. Sonya nodded, though the concerned look on her face did not change. “I don’t know how, but I know there’s some way to honor their deaths.”

“That sounds honorable, and I completely understand.” Sonya began, her words slow and deliberate. You knew from the way she spoke, she completely understood. She never talked about it too much, but she had alluded before to you that she had been tracking down some asshole because her partner had died. You looked at her, and you saw her hesitate. “You shouldn’t let your life be dictated by something like that though.”

Even as she said it, you knew she felt awful for being a hypocrite.

“I know you speak from a place of kindness and experience, Sonya.” You said. You leaned forward, resting your weight on your forearms. “But I don’t know if I can heed your words.” A sigh left your lips, and you felt your shoulders slump forward. Exhaustion was clawing at you, threatening to drag you down. “I have to at least avenge Kung Lao and Liu Kang. I know Shao Khan’s dead, but I would feel so useless if I couldn’t avenge both of their deaths.”

“You think Shao Khan killed Liu Kang?” Sonya inquired. You saw her eyes widen slightly, and she shifted a bit in her own seat. You lifted an eyebrow, uncertain why she would ask that sort of thing. You nodded solemnly.

“Of course he did, who else would? I’m certain you saw it too. You and Johnny both arrived on the rooftop before me.” You reminded her. “When I got there, he was dead already” You felt yourself tremble, the guilt within yourself threatening to spew out of you. “By the gods, if I had been a little faster, maybe, just maybe I would have been able to save him.”

You knew you weren’t just talking about Liu Kang.

“Hey.” The lieutenant spoke up, snapping you out of it before you could possibly spiral. Her eyes scanned you again, a torn expression on her face. She then stared deeply into your eyes. Her mouth opened, then she hesitated. Whatever she was about to say, you could never guess as she then proceeded to cringe before she got the words out. “Did…did you talk to Raiden about any of this?”

“No.” You admitted. And you weren’t planning to. You knew the god would disapprove of your plan, and you weren’t letting him change your mind. While you knew Liu Kang held some resentment towards the thunder god before he died, you didn’t. But you did feel like, perhaps, some decisions that you could make would be best without his influence. “I’m not going to tell him either.”

“I see.” Sonya said, her tone now awkward. There was a tension in the room, one that you couldn’t quite identify the reason behind. You looked back down at the report, trying to distract yourself amidst the silence that lingered in the air. “Hey, how about we just finish these reports up then head to bed, how does that sound?”

“I…” You began. The thought of going to bed, all alone with the memories of what had just happened, nearly sent a shiver down your back. You couldn’t suppress the goosebumps that covered your skin. But still, you couldn’t deny the fact that sleep did sound pleasing. You weren’t certain if you could stay awake for much longer. “I think that sounds fine.”

“Good, let’s wrap it up, I think we both need the rest.” Sonya nodded. She picked up her pen with a bit of renewed vigor. Then she paused and looked at you. “And hey,” She said your name, “if you ever need to talk about all this with someone, I’m here for you, okay?”

For what felt like the first time in forever, you smiled.

“Okay.”

Waking up this time was not dramatic like before, but it was not quite calm either.

Your eyes slowly opened, as if you were trapped within honey. You lifted a hand over your chest, your fingertips touching where your heart lay. It ached dully, as if remembering the memory along with you and was reminded of the pain of losing those you once cared for. All that left your lips for a moment was a forlorn sigh.

Your mind lingered on the blonde that had been so prominent in your last memory. Sonya Blade. This was the first time she had been prominent in your visions. She was not a foreign person to you, you remembered her as the ex wife…or wife, you weren’t quite sure. Not to mention, she had appeared at the tournament as well as the rooftop confrontation.

You rolled over to the side of the bed, staring at the ground. She was one of the few you had remembered but seemed not to be present in this world you now lived in. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to recall other people you haven’t seen yet, assuming they even existed.

Nightwolf, Jackson Briggs, Fujin…several other names drifted in and out of your head.

Why have you not met them? This question buried itself in the back of your mind. It was always a question you’ve asked yourself. Some of the names you’ve had these questions about you’ve met, but it was odd these people who seemed to become more and more dominant in your memories seemed to be missing.

Was there a reason for that? Did these people even exist at all? Or were they replaced or missing, just like…

You felt your chest ache again without even finishing your thought. You pressed your hand to it, as if it would help soothe the pain. All it did though was allow you to feel the slow rhythmic thuds of your heart. You were still alive and kicking, that was for certain.

“No use lingering on it.” You muttered to yourself. It didn’t sound confident. Instead, it sounded almost defeated. Still, you took in stride and forced yourself out of bed. You didn’t have the time to think about all that and go through the heart ache. You took pause for a moment, your body recognizing the irony of the situation before your brain did.

You sounded just like your past self.

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. Some things never change, do they? You fought back the sinking feeling in your stomach and continued on with your morning routine. Like you said, it was best not to think about it, even despite what your gut told you.

By the time you walked outside your door, you heard the familiar sound of heels. You looked up to see the confident stride of Kitana. Her posture was even more pristine than usual. Yet there was something off. You glanced at her face, and for a moment you saw an undertone of guilt on her face even with her head held high. The moment her eyes locked with yours, that guilt was hidden away as if it were not there in the first place.

“Good morning.” The princess greeted, the professional looking smile placed on her lips. You felt your eyebrows furrow, and for a moment you considered asking what was wrong. Then, in the next you reconsidered. Not only were you barely acquaintances, she was royalty. Any words close to asking her of her troubles died on your tongue.

“Good morning.” You returned her greeting, wiping away your concern. Her eyes scanned your face, and for a moment, you wondered if she was going to question the look on your face. But instead she simply nodded and walked towards you, waiting patiently for you to join her side. “Today we are watching the match in the Hanging Gardens, correct?”

“Indeed.” She confirmed, glancing at you.

“Oh, your sister, Princess Mileena is fighting today.” You said aloud, eyes widening. A small smile spread on your face, wondering how it would be like to see the princess in action. You glanced over, and caught the sight of Kitana’s eyes widened a bit. Her smile turned a bit strained, much to your confusion. She hesitantly nodded.

“Yes she is.” She told you. Yet there was a tone to her voice that made your eyebrows raise. It was barely perceptible, the way her voice hesitated. But still, from your memories, you caught onto the subtleties within her voice. Maybe you were closer to her in your past life than you thought. Either way, it was not the same here so you could not ask. But there was definitely something off with how short her responses were.

“I’ll enjoy watching the fight, I cannot say I’ve ever seen royalty fight before. In Earthrealm, there isn’t much royalty left there, and if there is, not many, if at all, fight like Outworlders do.” You informed the princess. She nodded, seeming vaguely aware of that fact already. “Do you fight and spar often with others?”

“We spar and train often.” Kitana replied, her shoulders rolling back slight to make her perfect posture impossibly more pristine. “As for actually fighting, we only do so when necessary.” You supposed that made sense, after all, why would one need to fight unless necessary? Then again, she could always be lying to save face. After all, why would a princess disclose her empire in a state of distress?

Then again, Outworld wasn’t always subtle about its fighting habits before, maybe it was the same here. You remembered the state that the Outworld you once knew was in. It was…odd to think this world held the same name as the more bloodier version of it. Then again, from what you recalled, this world seemed more similar to Edenia.

What did happen to Edenia anyways in this world? You weren’t certain if that was taboo to ask. After all, in the past world, it had been conquered and merged. Would asking it be rude? You glanced over to the princess, noting her attitude. She seemed to be in her head about something, even if she was doing well at attempting to conceal it. You supposed it would be for the best to not ask right now.

Maybe you could ask Liu Kang about it.

“Do you and your sister spar often?” You asked, keeping up with your questions to show interest and civility. Kitana pursed her lips, pondering over your question for a bit. After a moment, she nodded.

“We do, occasionally.” The princess replied. There was another pause, considering her words carefully once more. You didn’t try and question it much. Perhaps she was simply erring on the side of caution. You were a friend of Raiden’s. Maybe she thought you were trying to get more information on her sister to give Raiden some last minute tips. “We tend to spar more with the Umgadi more than anything.”

”I was not aware that they sparred with you on top of protecting the royal palace.” You said, glancing over to an Umgadi guard that was further down the hall. Upon reflection, the Umgadi reminded you a bit of the Lin Kuei, but only in the vaguest sense. Still, it was nice to make a mental connection to something from home.

”The Umgadi are responsible for plenty of things.” Kitana replied. One of her hands gestured to the guard down the hall you had been previously looking at. “Guarding the palace, sparring with us, making sure everything runs smoothly and properly. Being an umgadi is a lot of pressure but it is an honorable job.”

Ah, now it definitely reminded you of the Lin Kuei.

”I respect them for that.” You nodded, sending the guard you passed by a grateful smile. She returned that small smile for a few moments before returning to a more stoic look. “Your Umgadi reminds me of a clan back in Earthrealm.” You told her. “I will say though, that clan is not composed entirely of women.”

”A shame.” The princess said, and for a moment, you could detect genuine pity in her tone. Her mouth opened, probably to ask a question, but then the both of you arrived outside in the hanging gardens. You spied a little farther off was all three of the thrones of the royal family. You rose your eyebrows, wondering if the princess would sit down before the fight, but you chose to not question it. It was probably put there out of respect. “It seems we are here.” Kitana said, her shoulders relaxing just a touch. Her eyes met yours before nodding. “Enjoy the match.”

And with that, she walked off,

“Glad to see you here early as usual.” You commented, walking up to Raiden, Kung Lao, and Liu Kang. You watched as the champion let out a embarassed chuckle, his cheeks flushing for a moment. You smiled at him, trying to reassure him after your little joke. “No need to look so clammy, I was simply joking.” You told him.

“I know.” Raiden said, avoiding eye contact with you for a few moments before he managed to wrangle his eyes to focus on you. Despite this, his face was still a little pink. On top of it all, a small sheepish smile was placed on his lips. You stared at it, admiring it for a moment. It was a nice sight. “I can hardly believe I’m going to fight a princess.”

”You mean you’re going to win against a princess.” Kung Lao spoke up, walking over to put himself right by your side. He flashed you a grin, crossing his arms as usual. He tilted his head to his friend. The confidence Kung Lao displayed was akin to someone who was going to partake in the fight rather than watch it. You watched as Raiden’s grin grew, seeming to absorb the positive feedback from both of you.

“Indeed, you are ready for this match.” Liu Kang reassured Raiden. The champion nodded. “Princess Mileena is very skilled, but we have provided you with the information necessary for the tide to be in your favor.” You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with the god’s words. You couldn’t have put it any better yourself.

“You’ve taken down five others before today, Raiden.” You told him, displaying your hand out to show him with your fingers the amount. “All of them were skilled in their own right. Do not treat this match any differently simply because you are to spar with royalty. Just focus on yourself and your own techniques and you’ll be fine.”

”I will do my best.” Raiden told you all, looking around. You felt better seeing a more confident man in front of you. Not only for the sake of the world, but it was nice to just see the man understand that he was indeed strong in his own right. It was a far cry from the beginnings of your lessons. It was heartwarming really.

Time passed, and you all discussed tactics and techniques to keep Raiden focused on the match ahead. You were only interrupted when Johnny Cage strode in and let out a low whistle and commented how this would be the perfect place to shoot an action scene, or even a romantic walk at night.

”All I’m saying is that people would kill for this type of place to shoot at. It’s the perfect set.” The actor said. He held his hands out, creating a box to frame the area. “Just look at that bench, perfect place to hold an important scene. That’d be the money shot right there.” You held in a chuckle, seeing the very bench you and the princess had been sitting on for a few nights now.

“Good luck, I doubt you’d be able to ever let a film crew here.” Kenshi commented, his arms crossing. He shook his head, letting out a dismissive sigh at the mere idea of Johnny even attempting to negotiate with the Empress to let them film here. You had to agree, the idea was rather farfetched.

”Oh they will, once I turn on the Cage charm.” Johnny boasted, grinning wickedly as he continued to survey the area with a careful gaze as if he were planning out the scenes he would shoot here. Which he probably was, given how he was muttering under his breath. You supposed you could respect his ambition to keep on the consistent grind.

Then, a little after that, the Empress arrived.

It was odd seeing her flanks empty of the sisters. But even without her daughters, the confidence and nobility she exuded caught your attention. She strode through the crowd before sitting upon her throne. You watched carefully, your eyebrows knitting as you watched her walk in alone. Where was Kitana? You had see her earlier, so he absence didn’t quite make sense to you.

You tried to brush those thoughts away as Sindel settled down comfortably for a moment, scanning the area before landing her eyes on Raiden. You stood at attention by Liu Kang’s side, ushering the others to stand with the others.

“You continue to surprise, Raiden.” Sindel complimented, her posture as perfect as Kitana’s was earlier. “Among others, you have defeated Kotal, Motaro, and Sheeva. Only two fights remain.” There was the smallest of pauses before she continued. “Are you ready, Earthrealmer?” There was a gleam of confidence within her eyes that seemed to have been revived.

”I am, Your Majesty.” Raiden said, his confidence from before still not faltering despite the renewed vigor.

“Then next you will face my daughter…” You heard the familiar clacking of heels. Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to look at the source of the noise. “Kitana.” Bewildered beyond measure, you watched as the princess you weren’t expecting walked in. Two folded up fans were gripped in her fists as a mask adorned her face.

Had you not been so perplexed, you would have caught on earlier how similar her walking in with such ferocity looked. But alas, you were too caught up in your thoughts. Why was Kitana going to fight? Was this a trick from Outworld to try and trip up Raiden? Thoughts like this pervaded your mind as the little clues you had brushed aside fell into place.

Mileena’s discomfort at the mention of a match, not to mention her whole general attitude last night along with Kitana’s strange dance around the mention of her sister fighting Raiden seemed to stick out like a sore thumb in your memories. You almost felt foolish for not seeing it earlier.

Had Sindel intended to intentionally swap out Kitana for Mileena to gain the upper hand? That would certainly explain why the elder sister was upset last night, but still, the mere idea of that felt…scandalous. You fixtated your eyes on the Empress as Liu Kang, who was a little more lost than you were, stepped up in between the would be fighters.

”Your Majesty, this is unprecedented.” Liu Kang spoke, his words slow. It was as if he were trying to find the right words to voice his confusion without trying to display distaste at the current events. “Raiden’s next opponent should be your heir.” He gestured to the throne beside Sindel where Mileena usually sat.

”Mileena is unavailable.” The Empress replied smoothly. She seemed unphased by the events and by Liu Kang’s reaction. You supposed that came with the experience of leading an empire for so many years. “She’s away on pressing imperial business.”

You felt your gut stir, as if to tell you that the Empress was lying. And honestly, you weren’t sure whether to believe your gut or not. You swallowed, trying to reason out the situation with what you knew. Maybe that was why the two had been acting so suspiciously? After all, it must be frustrating to be sent away so quickly before an important fight. And if it really was so urgent, it made sense that the heir would take care of it.

Still, your gut twisted and turned.

”But I have not prepared him to battle Kitana.” Liu Kang pushed back, pointing out the unfairness in the situation. You glanced at the masked princess who was holding Raiden’s gaze. From what you remembered, the two had very different fighting styles in your past life, which probably was true for this world. It made sense for Liu Kang to worry over it.

”He’s already demonstrated great skill.” Sindel replied, her voice and posture displaying jus how nonchalant she was over the whole thing. And yet, there was a quality to the way she spoke that caught your attention. It was like a challenge in her voice, like her scoffing and asking if Raiden was not as skilled as has shown if he couldn’t defeat a surprise. It was almost like an insult hidden behind a compliment. “Can he not improvise?”

”Do not worry, I can do this.” You heard the champion reassure the god who had been shaking his head. You were caught off guard, and soon found yourself smiling. The god nodded, accepting the courage Raiden displayed. It was good that even when Liu Kang showed doubt, Raiden was able to steel himself and push ahead.

”I will be no easier to fight than my sister, Earthrealmer.” Kitana boasted, walking back an appropriate distance. You watched as the fire god approached and stood by your side. You shot him a sympathetic glance. Traces of confusion still displayed on his face. You placed a hand on Liu Kang’s bicep and leaned over to whisper to him.

“He’ll be fine.” You told him, squeezing his bicep for a moment. Then, a moment later, you found yourself pinching the skin there. He may not be Kung Lao you once knew and understand the gesture, but it was something small you wanted to do. You watched as Liu Kang’s expression relaxed and he nodded, now trying to focus on the match.

“I suffer under no delusion, Your Highness.” Raiden replied, his voice devoid of any cockiness like the princess displayed. Instead, it was serious, taking her seriously just as he did for all of his other opponents. You admired the way he was able to lock in, mind focused entirely on the goal.

”I will win this fight.” Kitana said, making a promise. “For her, my Empress, and all of Outworld.” She took a step forward, before taking one step back into a fighting stance. There was a “sching!” as the blades of her fans brushed against each other, revealing the awe inspiring war fans she wielded.

Then, the match begun.

Kitana’s movements were elegant, it was like she was dancing more than she was dueling. It was almost like watching a hawk. Graceful, swift, but had deadly precision. The control she had over the fans she wielded along with the bits of magic she must surely have was beautiful to witness. Almost effortlessly, you watched as she would sometimes gain the upper hand and juggle your champion in the air, hit after hit with her fans and kicks.

For a moment, you were worried. Raiden seemed unable to adapt, being bewildered by the strange manner Kitana would throw out her fans, and not to mention the way she would use the air to her advantage much more than any of the others he had fought against. It was as if she thrived up there.

Still, even as he was battered and bruised, the man pushed through. He matched her movements, aiming to move as quickly as she was. He also threw in some of his own projectiles into the mix, deterring her from simply zoning him out from an advantageous position. Had you been an outsider watching this, you would have never guessed that Raiden was merely improvising these techniques against the surprise contender. It was honestly quite impressive.

After seeing the man turn the tide, you were not surprised to see him finally topple the princess. This feat had been much more earned, as both of them seemed exhausted after the fight. Between moments of heaving breaths, Raiden looked down at the princess before nodding and smiling respectfully to her.

“You fight well, princess.” He commended, a weary, but kind smile upon his lips. Pushing herself off the ground, Kitana looked up at her opponent. For a moment, there was a frustrated look as she took some deep breaths of her own. Despite her mask, she was still very expressive. You looked at the mask adorning her face, remembering how she used to wear it long ago,

“As do you, Earthrealmer.” Kitana replied, sharing the same respect Raiden had shown her. Her gaze scanned the man, assessing him one last time. “Surprisingly so.” She added on, a hint of reluctance and shock in her tone. It was as if despite being beat, she still could not understand how the Earthrealm champion had bested her.

“Excellent match.” Sindel praised, though there was a hint of strain within her voice. Both of the competitors turned their attention to the empress. You gaze focused in on her as well. Her displeasure at the outcome of the match as well hidden, but you could still see it. It was in the way her knuckles grew bone white despite supposedly being folded neatly within her lap. Her jaw was set as she smiled at the two.

While you weren’t certain still whether Sindel had intentionally swapped the princesses, you could see that she was not all too happy that Raiden had managed to improvise his way through the match. Your eyes darted back to the electric wielder. Had Mileena still been here to fight him, would he have fared as well as he did against Kitana?

“Tomorrow, young champion, you will face your final opponent.” She declared, looking up at the sky for a moment. “Then afterwards we shall hold a celebration. A festival, dedicated to whomever emerges victorious, whether it be Earthrealm or Outworld. We shall meet back out here for your final match.” The empress instructed, before swiftly walking off. You observed how the thrones were hauled back to the grand hall before a pinch on your bicep snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Finally today we get to hang out.” Kung Lao piped up, sending you a grin on the sly side. Your eyebrows rose. At first, you focused on the pinch. You caught yourself holding your breath, a wave of nostalgia and grief washing over you. You were perplexed on how he remembered the pinch, but then you remembered that he was probably mimicking the action you had done to him previously. “Oh don’t look so blue, it’s an honor hanging out with me.”

“When did we agree to hang out?” You asked, pushing away the thoughts of the old Kung Lao who your brain yearned for. Almost instantly, you regretted your words. His smile faltered, dropping. It was as if someone had kicked a puppy. Instantly, you put on a smile and placed a reassuring hand on his bicep, returning the pinch. “I was joking.” You quickly said. “I’d love to hang out with you.”

“Good.” Kung Lao replied, the glee returning to him. It was as if he hadn’t been affected by your question earlier at all. You weren’t sure if he had been acting or not, but you felt better seeing his smile. “I saw a lot of good food by the pier, I want to try them with you.” The former farmhand told you, beginning to lead the way to Sun Do.

“As long as we get to go around looking for one last gift.” You piped up, following him to the way to the city. Kung Lao looked back, a small look of surprise on his face.

“I thought you had been out yesterday with Kenshi to find the last gift?” Kung Lao asked. His eyes darted behind you, most likely gazing at where the others were before his eyes settled on you again. “By all means, I don’t mind. I know I have perfect taste.” He shot you a grin, making you chuckle and shake your head at his antics.

“I had been, and yes, I did find a gift. But I wanted to get something else too.” You informed the man with the razor hat. At this admission, his interest was piqued. He leaned over to you, his voice dropping to a whisper as if you were swapping a secret.

“Oh really now?” Kung Lao spoke, his voice dripping with excitement. A gleam was in his eye, and you spotted his dimples become more prominent as his smile grew. Your lips pursed as you observed them, you weren’t certain how to feel about even the little details like dimples being the same between the two worlds. “Well, if it’s a gift for me you can just tell me now, I don’t mind.”

“It’s not a gift for you, it’s a gift for Lord Liu Kang.” You told Kung Lao. You watched as his lips pursed into a pout. A disappointed look crossed his face, though this one was more playful than the last time. “Don’t worry, I already got your gift for you.” A look of surprise, as if he wasn’t actually expecting a gift, appeared on his face. You let out another laugh and picked up the pace, walking a bit faster as the man paused.

“Wait, really?” He asked, perking up as he made a light jog to catch up to you. You simply sent him a small smile, watching him think over your words. “What is it? When am I going to get it?” Kung Lao asked, his questions firing off like rapid fire.

“I already ruined the surprise by telling you that I got you one.” You said, pointing at Kung Lao as you walked side by side down the road. “I think I have the right to keep the rest of it as a surprise, no?” The man hummed, head tilting upwards as he contemplated his words. Then he looked back at you with a mischievous look.

“I guess you do, but that won’t stop me from wildly guessing what you did get me.” Kung Lao pointed out. You nodded, letting out another laugh. You supposed that would be fair enough. It wasn’t as if you could stop his curiosity anyways.

The rest of the walk was filled with light chatter. With Kung Lao, it always felt as if you could talk with him for hours on end. You tried not to linger on that fact that it felt like you were talking to an old friend. You had to stop that train of thought, after all, this man in front of you wasn’t…your Kung Lao. It was someone else, even if they were all too similar.

For a bit of the day, both you and Kung Lao roamed around the docks. The air was filled with the scent of street food. It made your mouth water as you took in a deep breath. Glancing over to your companion, you swore you even spotted the man drooling. You found yourselves hopping around the area, tasting and taking food as you pleased.

“This is amazing.” Kung Lao said, seeming to be lost in bliss as he indulged in the fried foods. You couldn’t help but agree. There was something special about this food, and it wasn’t just how cheap it was for the quality. As you let the taste melt onto your tongue, you couldn’t help but ponder over the seasonings within the dish. Did these type of seasonings exist back in Earthrealm? Or only here. “You think you could recreate this?”

“Maybe.” You said, still mulling over the unique taste it held. “They have different spices here, so it might be hard to recreate it one to one in terms of flavor.” You blinked in surprise as a bit of food was held in front of your face. Leaning back a bit, you shot a look of confusion towards Kung Lao as he brought the food closer to you.

“Try it!” He encouraged, a wide grin on his face. You looked between the man and the morsel of food, trying to work out what to do. Then, you leaned forward and ate the food from his fingers. You savored it, nodding as you closed your eyes and contemplated the flavors. A small hum left your lips. That was good. As you opened your eyes, confusingly enough, you were met with Kung Lao being…slightly flustered?

“Are you good?”

“Hm?” Kung Lao said, snapping out of his little daze. His cheeks were still dusted light with a bit of pink as he let out a laugh. “Yes! I’m fine.” He told you, though there was still that little tone to his voice that you couldn’t quite pin down. You rose your eyebrows, but shrugged. “Would you make me some of this food?”

“If I figure it out, sure.” You told him, finding it hard to say no to the hopeful look he sent you. You grinned at him, a slightly wicked look in your eye. “You know, you do still owe me for losing that bet.” You couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh at the pout he sent your way. “Did you think I would forget, Kung Lao?”

“Maybe.” He mumbled, looking away from you with a faux innocent look. You sent him a narrowed gaze, shaking your head. “I promise I’ll hold up to our agreement.” He said, putting a hand on his heart, an earnest grin on his face. You smiled and pinched his bicep.

“Good, because otherwise if you don’t, I’ll make sure to talk to the monks about making your training regiment harder. And that’s on top of what I plan on making you do.” You informed him, a sly smirk on your lips. “But if you remind me, I think I’ll consider lessening your punishment.”

The both of you toured the area for a bit longer until you passed a store selling fabrics. You took pause as you walked past it, at first dismissing it. Then, a familiar shade of red caught your eye. You wandered over, feeling compelled to inspect it. Picking it up gently, you marveled at the fabric.

It was nothing special, to be honest. It was just a very vibrant red headband. And yet, as you held it in your hands, you felt emotional over it. You slowly rubbed the quality material between your fingers, a small smile on your lips. You felt Kung Lao’s presence beside you, and nearly jumped upon remembering that he was here.

“You’re planning on giving Lord Liu Kang a headband?” Your companion inquired. He squinted at it, processing the piece of fabric you were holding.

“I know it’s a simple gift, but it just…speaks to me.” You explained, returning your gaze back down to the headband. It was nearly uncanny how close it looked to the red headband that your friend would always wear. Ever since you remembered the accessory, you’ve missed seeing the man in it. You’ve never brought it up though, since you it was a little odd. “What do you think? Is it a silly gift?”

“No.” Kung Lao said, and you were a little surprised at the certainty in his voice. You looked up and over to him. On his face was a determined look, as if nothing could convince him that this was a bad idea. You were comforted by the look. “I think it’s the perfect gift actually, good find.”

You stared at Kung Lao for a few more moments. Your heart squeezed at the idea that this Kung Lao agreed with the headband fitting just so well for Liu Kang. For a moment, you were tempted to ask him why he thought so. Was it just the idea that Liu Kang would look good in red? Or was it…something else? And yet, despite your longing, you restrained yourself. You didn’t want to seem so…silly.

“Yeah, I think I will get this.” You agreed. You walked up to the naknadan who was manning the shop. You were delighted to see you had some money left over. Maybe you could keep it, as a reminder of your travels here. You took the headband, and folded it neatly, tucking it away. You felt proud of yourself, feeling accomplished for finding all the gifts you wanted for your friends.

After a bit more wandering around the city with Kung Lao, you both eventually return back to the palace. You weren’t certain if you were going to go to dinner after a day full of tasting food, but you might for the sake of being with your friends.

Before you could walk up the stairs into the palace, you stopped. You grabbed Kung Lao’s hand, stopping him in his tracks as well. You noted his hand, and how it still was as soft as it was when you had felt it when you had shook his hand. The former farmhand turned around, sending you a curious look, though there was a bit of a blush on his face.

You weren’t certain why seeing that pink hue on his cheeks was so pleasing to you.

“I just wanted to thank you for accompanying me today.” You said, smiling at him. You felt your hand squeeze his, though you didn’t consciously think about squeezing his hand. “I had a lot of fun going around and trying food with you. Sorry it took so long for me to have some time to hang out with you. I hope today was worth it.”

“It was fun.” Kung Lao replied, a grin on his lips now. It was lopsided, as usual. You couldn’t help the little sigh that left your lips. “If you really want to make up for it, you could always forget about our little bet-” He noted the little glare you sent his way, and his smile grew. “Kidding! Kidding! But if you did want to make up for it, I would not be opposed to hanging out with you more often.”

“I would not be opposed to that idea either.” You replied. You stood there for a moment more, before you turned to go grab one of the ring boxes from your bag. You turned, inspecting the boxes more to see if you grabbed the right one before you held it out to the man. “Here, the gift for you, like I told you earlier.”

Kung Lao plucked the box out of your outstretched hand. Almost hesitantly, he let go of your hand so he could open the box with his other hand. You watched as surprise overcame his features as he inspected the ring with the pink gem was sitting in the center of the box. He glanced back and forth between you and the ring. A soft look was on his face as he placed it on.

“I like it.” He said, admiring the ring as it adjusted to fit perfectly upon his. “I see it matches yours too. Now we’re doubly matching.” Kung Lao pointed out, pointing between both the rings and the dragon motifs you both had. A smile that was a little smug appeared on his lips. “Why pink though? Not that I mind.”

“We’re all going to match soon, it was a ring set.” You explained. looking down to the little ring that you had on your hand. “And yes, the necklace you gave me…” You paused, grabbing the necklace to feel it, “it honestly did inspire me, so thank you. As for pink, well…” You trailed off, thinking back.

For a while now, you’ve associated Kung Lao with cherry blossoms. At first, it was because of how often you saw the petals fall near him at the Wu Shi. It was almost as if he was a magnet for them. But now, with you memories, it only seemed right. Much like many other things, it seemed to be a constant between your lives.

“I think it just fits. It’s the pink of cherry blossoms, which I think are very fitting for you, you always seem to be covered in those petals.” You answered, looking into Kung Lao’s eyes. Another softer look appeared on his face as he heard your explanation.

“I think it fits too.” Kung Lao admitted, glancing back down to the ring on his hand. A grin spread across his face before he grabbed your hand. “Now let’s go, I don’t want to miss dinner.” His tone was dripping with excitement, despite how much you both had eaten earlier. You nearly stumbled to keep up with his quick pace, but you let out a small laugh as you tightened your grip onto his hand to adjust yourself.

Never change, Kung Lao.

Tonight was an especially beautiful night in the garden.

The stars seemed to shine a little brighter. The skies seemed to be a little more vibrant, the bits of the purple sky swirling with the dark colors of the night sky. Not a cloud was in sight to block any bit of the view on display for tonight. It was like looking at a piece of art, just for you.

You sighed as you sat alone on the bench in the Hanging Gardens. You weren’t even certain why you were out here. Princess Mileena was out on imperial duties…supposedly. She probably wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. You supposed that you didn’t need her in order to appreciate the garden, but you also couldn’t deny it felt awfully lonely out here without someone to accompany you.

You weren’t sure how you caught the movement while looking up at the sky, but you spotted someone out of the corner of your eye. At first, you perked up. Maybe she was back early and sought your presence here. But as you turned, the figure you saw walking around the gardens was not the princess you were expecting. No, it was someone else.

In fact, it was someone you didn’t even recognize.

A man walked through the gardens. He held himself with grace, an air of elegance surrounded him. His hair, long and neatly tied, cascaded down and fell down his shoulders. A small smile appeared on his lips as he toured the area. You spotted a gleam of gold, and looking down, you saw a golden amulet with a large red gem in the center hanging off his belt.

As you inspect the stranger, your eyes locked with his. A look of faint surprise appeared on his face, before a smile replaced it. He strode over, and for a moment you felt awkward. You hoped you didn’t leave a bad first impression on this man.

“Hello there.” The man said, stopping a little bit away from you. One of his hands gestured to the spot next to you. “Are you waiting on someone?” He asked, his voice smooth just like honey was. You glanced at the spot, thinking of the princess for a moment, before shaking your head. Gracefully, he sat beside you. “I don’t think we’ve met, to whom do I have the pleasure?”

“We haven’t met.” You confirmed, nodding. You told him your name, eyes scanning the man up and down. No matter how much you inspected him, you could not glean anything from him. If anything, the slight buzzing in your head almost seemed to quell around him. Your lips pursed. Seems you’ve never met this man before in your previous life. “I’m just here for the tournament. I’m from Earthrealm, actually, I’m accompanying Lord Liu Kang and his companions.”

“Oh, the tournament. I had nearly forgotten about that.” The man said, his hands neatly folding in his lap. “I have been so awfully busy carrying out requests for the Empress, I have not had the time to observe. In fact, I’ve only come back tonight just to gather some materials before I go back to my laboratory. A shame, I would have loved to watch.”

“It has been rather exciting, our champion has nearly won all of the matches so far.” You said, trying not to outwardly brag to this stranger. You paused, thinking to the words he said. “You said you had a laboratory, are you a sorcerer, or a mage of some sort?” You asked, thinking back to how Rain had a laboratory of sorts within the Imperial Academy.

“I am.” The stranger replied. The smile on his lips grew slightly as he nodded. “I have the pleasure of being part of the royal court. As much of a privilege it is, it is labor intensive at times, I must admit.” He scanned you, looking up and down. “You sounded quite excited about that prospect, are you interested in magic?”

“I suppose I am.” You admitted. You lifted your hand, shifting it to display a webbed frog hand. “Though I’m from Earthrealm, I have some magic of my own. Back there, we don’t really have magic schools, it’s more commonly thought of as a myth there.” A small hum left the man’s lips as he nodded along. His hands locked in on your limb as it displayed the little feat of magic. If you weren’t mistaken, it almost seemed like he was quite impressed with the little display.

“Fascinating.” The stranger said, a tone in his voice you couldn’t quite place. Admiration, perhaps? That was the closest thing you could think of. “You can shapeshift, that’s your magic?” He asked, double checking your abilities with you. You blinked, nodding as you changed your hand once more, this time into a horse’s hoof. “Just animals, or are you capable of shifting into humanoids as well?”

“Just animals, I think. I’ve never really tried to transform into another humanoid, really.” You told him. You transformed your arm back, taking some time to mull over his question. You’ve never really…thought about humanoid transformation. Your magic was instinctual, so you’ve never really put much thought into it.

Was it possible? You’d have to explore that idea later.

“I think I’ve heard of you.” The man said. You blinked in surprise, furrowung your eyebrows as you looked at the man suspiciously. You doubted you have too much of a reputation to have random strangers hear of you before. “My colleague, Rain, has mentioned you before, I believe?” He said. You blinked, before you remembered.

Hadn’t Rain mentioned a sorcerer with talents like yours?

“Oh, Rain?” You said, repeating the name. The man nodded. “Ah, you must be the court sorcerer he mentioned!” You told him, a smile now across your features. You tried to think of his name, but found yourself coming up short. Ah, he had been interrupted before he said the name, didn’t he? You sent him an awkward smile. “Sorry, I don’t think he mentioned your name, what was it?”

“My name is Shang Tsung.” The sorcerer said, his smile growing more as he nodded. From the corner of your eye, you swore your saw the red gem in his amulet gleam for just a moment as he introduced himself. Must be the moonlight reflecting off. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“It is an honor to meet you too, Shang Tsung.” You said. The name rolled easily off your tongue. You folded your hands on your lap. “Would you do me a favor?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked at the man. His eyebrows rose, but the charismatic, polite look remained on his face as he nodded. “Could you tell me about magic? I love to hear about it.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

And that night, you think you made a new friend.

tagged - @bonezisded @lollipopin @simpxinnie @zhivaxo @koisuko

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year ago

Text

Slow Hands | Chapter 9

“when the monsters creep into your house”

A/N: so, before we get into this chapter, I just wanted to say that I am still on a break, but I wanted to share this with y’all because I’m so incredibly proud of how far I’ve come as a writer. This story has truly become such an importance to me, and I am so grateful to have the opportunity to share it with you. This break has been everything I hoped it would be and with that, I have restored my love for writing. This is also my longest chapter that I have ever written. 15k to be exact! Anyway, I hope you’re all doing well and thank you for the endless support. In due time I’ll be ready to re-immerse myself into the community, but for now I am content. 🤍 happy Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate, and free Palestine 🇵🇸 call for a ceasefire now. Also, a big shout out to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for betaing for me! I appreciate you so much 🥹🤍

~word count: 15k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: after spending the night at Joel’s, the fragmented pieces of your past before Jackson begin to fall into place.

warnings: angst, PTSD, trauma, intense flashbacks, nightmares, child loss, implied SA (not by Joel) heavy heavy topics, hurt, comfort, foreshadowing, implied animal abuse (not done by Joel) soft flirting, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions such as body type or skin color, readers nickname is Beanie (coffee beans), +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

Joel Miller’s POV

“Spend the night with me, Beanie. Please.” His words fell heavy on his tongue. His heart begging you with a steady thrum to stay. He was nervous. Nervous about how you would react to his request. While he had many moments of raw vulnerability with you, this was by far the most vulnerable admittance. It showed that he felt a deep level of trust towards you considering the only other person who knew of Ellie’s immunity was Tommy. Admittedly, if you said no to his request to spend the night, it would sting, but he’d accept it and give you the time that you needed. That didn’t erase the fact that he was waiting with a bated breath.

“Of course I’ll spend the night with you, Joel. Under one condition, you don’t snore, right?” Your tone was playful, teasing as you gently scratched his scalp with the blunt ends of your nails.

Oh, geez. How was it that one single person could read the room so well? There was something that was so purely natural to you. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe one day he’d have the answer. He was relieved.

“Well, I don’t usually snore, but I won’t make any promises. Is that a deal breaker for ya, darlin?’” She’s spending the night. Here. with me.

He nearly could have purred like a damn cat from how soothing it felt to have you scratching his scalp, and playing with his hair. Oh, he had it bad alright.

“No, just means that I might have to smother you with a pillow if you do start snoring, honey.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He threatened teasingly as his fingers attempted to lightly tickle your sides, but you were quicker than that. Exchanging pet names felt easy and natural between the two of you. The banter dissolved the tension from the emotionally charged conversation that just took place

“Oh, but I would.”

Your fingers interlaced with his, thumbs brushing across the outside of his hand. He was looking directly into your eyes with a slight tilt of his head. He shamelessly thought about kissing you again now that there seemingly would be no other interruptions. His eyes flitted down to your lips. Soft. Kissable. He hadn’t kissed anyone since Tess’s passing. Even then, they didn’t share many romantic moments leading up to her death. Oh how he wishes he could have just kissed her one last time. You have to let go of the past, remember? Tess is gone. She’s never coming back, Joel. But Beanie? She’s here. She’s sitting right next to you, and she’s breathing. Her heart has a beat and there's blood pumping in her veins.

“If we keep this up, the pizza is gonna go cold, darlin.’” He tilted his head to the side with a boyish grin spreading across his lips. You swore that you saw a dimple peek through.

“Can’t have that happening.”

“Would be a shame..” He drawled thoughtfully.

Your eyes met, soft gazes melded together, brows raised before you broke out into a fit of contagious giggles. You couldn’t even depict the cause of your laughter, but he was short to follow, and man, did it feel good. Perhaps there need not be a reason. Perhaps it just felt natural to burst into giggles after such a heavy topic of discussion. You thoughtfully watched the way his eyes crinkled, and his hand grasped his belly under the worn-down fabric of his shirt. The cadence of your combined laughter echoed weightlessly through the expanse of the kitchen like a feather drifting along a gentle breeze. Ask her now. You can do it, Joel. Let your heart feel, for god sakes.

“Well, now I’m real fuckin’ hungry, darlin.’” He drawled warmly as he reached for your hands.

“Felt good though, didn’t it?”

He smiled knowingly as he nodded, “Felt damn good.” His hands grasped yours firmly before he gently released them and slowly stood up.

Your mouth watered the second he removed the pizza from the oven with a well-loved oven mitt that had little hearts stitched artfully through the fabric. He set the tray carefully along the countertop to cool. “It’s gonna be a few minutes for the pizza to cool. Don’t wanna go and burn our tongues off.” He chortled softly as he slowly descended back down to your level.

His palms were growing clammy by the second as he watched your discreet body language under the soft glow of the overhanging kitchen light. He watched the way you moved in closer to him, as if you were both magnets being drawn together by an invisible force that was slowly reeling you in. He watched your eyes, and how they never seemed to leave his own. He watched the way your lips parted open, soft and sweet like two glistening peach halves. Dew kissed rose petals being warmed by the sun's rays. Joel Miller would never consider himself to be a hopeless romantic, but you’d beg to disagree.

“Fuck it.” he whispered under his breath, nearly undetectable to your ears.

“What?”

He breathed in slow and deep as his lips parted like the narrow sea. “Beanie,” He breathed out. “Can I please kiss you?”

A moment to breathe passed before you slowly nodded in consent, “Yes, Joel. Please kiss me.”

He leaned in slowly, the bridge of his nose gently brushing against your own as he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. His hands gently rose to caress either side of your face. He held you like delicate fine china in his palms. Those very same hands could take away a life with a snap and twisting of his wrists. You held no fear because you knew this man. You knew Joel Miller as if he had been in your life forever. In some way, he had. Inconspicuously he had touched your life before the outbreak, and now you were finding one another in a new light.

The gap between your lips was tortuously closing at a slow pace. He was taking his time with you, but only if you knew that internally, he was wishing that he could take your breath away with a swift kiss. Time felt like it ceased to exist the moment his lips molded against your own. Although they were slightly chapped, Joel Miller’s lips were like two soft pillows, and he’d describe yours as candy floss. The sweet, sugary kind that used to be consumed in carnivals and fairs. He sighed into your mouth as his thumb brushed across your cheekbone. Your lips moved together in sync, but he could taste your hesitation lingering on your tongue.

“Joel..” You murmured against his lips.

“S’okay,” He spoke with utter reassurance. “You’re safe here with me.”

That’s all it took for you to let yourself go as your arms wrapped around his neck with ease, pressing your lips further into his.

His heart felt ignited with a newfound feeling that had laid dormant for so long. Fuck the pizza, he thought to himself. Nothing can ever come close to this moment.

The kiss was short lived, and lasted all of 30 seconds, but it was only because he could taste the salt from your tears along his tongue as he slowly detached his lips from yours. A tiny sliver of saliva kept you connected, until that dissipated too.

Why is she crying?

Oh, god. What have I done?

I knew this was foolish of me.

He didn’t even realize that his own tears began to free-fall from the corner of his eyes. He was too hyper focused on you.

“Beanie, what’s wrong? Darlin’ is it somethin’ I’ve done? I’m so sorry my dear, I–”

You cut him off with a surprised urgency as your hands dropped to his face and his strong jaw. You nearly threw yourself into his lap from how fervently you kissed him. On instinct, his hands found your waist to hold you steady as he kissed you back with the same amount of passion that you held for him. Your breaths synced harmoniously before you parted ways and pressed your forehead into the fabric of his shirt. An overflowing tide of emotions swept through the two of you as he cradled your head protectively to his chest. His head came to rest upon the lower cabinet as his eyes fluttered shut.

I’m here.

I’ll keep you safe.

No harm will come your way.

My girl. My girl. My beautiful sweet girl.

The pizza had significantly cooled off by the time yours and Joel’s emotions calmed down and he had wiped away every last tear that had dripped down your beautiful soft-spoken eyes. He left your side only to grab two plates and divvy the slices between the two of you. You sat side by side on the floor, as you ate in a comfortable silence.

I should check in and see how she’s doing. Maybe asking her to spend the night was too much.

Maybe this moved too fast?

Maybe I should just shut up and stop overthinking every single little fuckin’ detail.

“How’s it tastin?’” He finally asked as he set his plate off to the side.

“Tastes just as good as I remember it to be. Might even be better.” You responded with a small smile of gratitude.

“You ain’t gotta say that jus’ to be polite, darlin.’ Y’can be honest with me.”

“Joel, it’s seriously delicious. You’re a good cook.”

“And you make a fabulous sous chef.” He murmured with a grin between his teeth as he turned his head to look over at you.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you rested your plate on your lap.

“Like what?” He asked softly.

“Like I am the only girl in the room.”

His brow raised as he pondered your response. You were literally the only girl in the room, but he was able to pick up on the silent signals, and read the context clues to your words.

“Darlin’, you don’t have to be afraid of me, or this, okay? Look, I understand if me askin’ you to spend the night might have been too much, and if that is the case, I’ve got no problem walking you home. But, if you do still want to spend the night with me, I promise we don’t have to..y’know, do anythin.’” He cleared his throat nervously as his eyes silently searched your own.

“Joel, I’m not afraid of you. I promise that it’s not that. I just—it’s been so long since..I’ve liked someone this much. The last guy I had romantic feelings for, was shortly before outbreak day. We actually had a date planned on the night of the outbreak. He canceled because he said his mom was sick and he needed to go and check on her. I never heard from him after that.” You murmured somberly as your hand slowly came to rest upon his cheek, stroking your thumb gently across the patches in his silver speckled beard.

“Baby, s’alright. I understand. S’been awhile for me as well, as you know. I’m sorry that you never heard from him again. Was he uh—your boyfriend? Or just someone you had met?” He leaned into your soft caress as his hand slowly came to rest upon your knee, rubbing soothing circles into the fabric.

He liked that you both shared a liking towards physical touch. He always wanted to be touching those he loved in some shape or form.

“No, he wasn’t my boyfriend. It was actually going to be our second date, and I was truly excited about it. We met in line at the local grocers, and my clumsy ass nearly dropped an entire carton of milk. He was..really sweet. Sometimes I wonder if he survived outbreak day, and if he did, would we find each other again.” Your thumb gently brushed across his lower lip before you were leaning in and kissing him sweetly as his lashes fluttered shut.

“Oh, darlin.’ I’m so sorry. I jus’ hope that if he didn’t make it, he went out painless. Sometimes I often forget that so many people lost something that night. Friends. Family. Lovers. It’s so easy to get caught up in your own grief and forget everyone else’s.” He mumbled against your lips as he squeezed your knee tenderly.

“It’s okay, Joel. Really, it’s okay. I got over it as soon as I realized that I had a decent chance at survival. Had to push my own grief far into the depths. Tess helped a lot. When we found each other I just had this feeling that it was meant to be. I wouldn’t have made it very far without her.” You slowly pulled away from the kiss as your forehead gently lowered to rest against his. “If I’m gonna spend the night, I sure hope you have a good pair of pj’s for me, Miller.” You teased softly as you gently twirled a strand of his salt and peppered hair between your fingers.

“She’s a good horse. Y’all have a special bond that I doubt could ever be broken. Darlin’ , you can wear any pj’s of mine that you’d like. Y’can keep ‘em too. But, before we head upstairs, there’s somethin’ I wanna show you. Would that be alright?”

“What do you want to show me, Joel?”

“You’ll see, darlin.’ Y’trust me, right?”

“Always.”

Joel offered you his arm like the true southern gentleman he was. He softly told you to leave the plates for now, and he would take care of that later. You took his arm graciously with a gentle grasp as he led you outside.

“Jus’ so ya know, the only two people who have seen my little wood workin’ shed, as I would call it, is Tommy and Ellie. But, you’re awfully special to me, Beanie. And I wanna share this piece of myself with you.”

“Joel, you know you don’t have to do this, right? I am absolutely honored that you want to share this part of yourself with me.” You murmured in a honeyed tone as your fingers gently flexed along his forearm.

He turned towards you, pausing in a moment of thought before he smiled. A real genuine smile that showed the little crinkles in the corner of his eyes that came with the process of aging. How precious a moment for you to see Joel Miller with his guard down. Even in the lowlight, you could see the way his eyes sparkled as he looked at you with tenderness.

“Best get used to it, darlin.’ Cus’ one day, I’m gonna share everything with you.”

His words were taken as a promise. An oath that you were not just a stepping stone in his path towards healing and living a peaceful domestic life. You mattered, and he made you feel like the sun was something that he crafted just for you with his bare hands in his toolshed. And the millions of stars that painted the night sky in twinkling light, were his secrets, and all he had to do was reach up and pluck one from the string it hung upon and bring it down to you. The stardust would bloom like a rose in your palm as if by magic. All in due time he’d bring a star down to you. All in due time.

At least in this lifetime, you’d finally understand what all the fairytales and romance novels were talking about.

His lips brushed your forehead in a velvety kiss before he nudged the shed door open with his shoulder and flicked on the light directly to the left of his head.

Remnants of sawdust coated the air as you followed him inside. His work station was fairly tidy sans a few stray tools that didn’t quite find their home, yet. You could feel his presence lingering behind you as you admired the wood carved fawn that was nearing its completed stages.

“This is darling. Did you make it for someone?” You asked softly as he pulled up the stool next to you and made himself comfortable.

“Made that one for Ellie. After I gifted her that felt fawn from your trinket bowl, I felt inspired to make her a wooden version. Got a rocket ship I'm workin’ on as well, but animal anatomy is far easier to work with than machine parts.” He mused as he rested his palm along his chin comfortably.

“I’m sure she’ll love it, Joel.”

“Hopin’ so. Got somethin’ I’m workin’ on for you as well.” He murmured with a gesture towards the figure covered with a white sheet to keep it a surprise.

You turned your head to the side, catching his gaze before you smiled. “Really? Can I see it?”

“‘Fraid not, my dear. Ain’t finished with it, yet. And I wanna keep it a surprise for now. Think you can be patient?” His brow raised as his lips curved up into a small grin.

“Oh, alright. I suppose I can be patient, for now.”

“Are ya sure you’re actually capable of being patient, darlin?’ He asked teasingly, his eyes flickered with unbridled mischief like two high-hanging mirror balls.

You leaned in with the same mischief dancing in your irises. It felt good to flirt, real good. He could easily say the same thing.

“I think the real question is, are you capable of being patient, Miller?”

A challenge. And a good one at that.

Joel had felt like a horny, love-sick teenage boy all over again.

He reveled in it.

Before he could answer, you slipped off the other stool with ease as you gingerly picked up one of the wood chisels that was laying around nearby. You twirled the handle in your palm with glee as you danced around the workbench, feeling his eyes never leaving you.

“So, what’s this one called?” You knew it was a wood chisel, but playing dumb for a moment felt fun and carefree.

“It’s a wood chisel. S’what I use when I'm carving out details and such. Got a whole set of ‘em. They’re quite handy.” He was already up from his stool as well as he followed you around the corner of the workbench.

“Fascinating.” You responded with a playful grin as you placed the chisel down where you found it before picking up a small screwdriver. “And this?”

He chuckled, shaking his head with a grin. “That would be a screwdriver, princess.”

Something unreadable flashed in your eyes. It was there, and gone as fast as it came.

“I totally knew that.” Your tone was an octave higher than usual, but you masked it well by tossing the screwdriver to the side before reaching for his hands.

“I know you did, honey.” He drawled smoothly as he found himself stepping between your legs where you were casually leaned up against the bench.

You were locked onto one another like two magnets as he slowly brought your interlocked hands above your head. He studied your expression for a moment as he silently waited for your consent, and once it was given, his lips were pressed to yours once more as your back naturally began to descend against the saw dust covered surface.

The tension in the air rose and thickened the atmosphere. The only sounds that could be detected were your lips moving in a passionate filled embrace, and the crickets chirping just outside the door.

He was the one to break the kiss with a breathy chuckle. “Seems like you and I are turnin’ into a couple of horny teens, huh?”

You liked the way his cheeks were flushed, and his lips swollen from your kisses.

“Indeed we are. I feel so alive. Do you?”

“Yes. The most alive I have felt in years, Beanie.” He murmured as he gently pulled you back up into a sitting position. His hands departed from your own and proceeded to brush away any sawdust that had stubbornly clung to your clothing. “Let's head in, yeah? I’ll make us some tea before bed. Chamomile?”

“Sounds delightful.” You pecked his cheek sweetly, and his cheeks reddened once more.

Joel left you to your own devices as he tidied up the kitchen. When you softly protested to help with the dishes, he shook his head and gently nudged you towards the staircase followed by a short peck to your lips. “Go on. I’ll be up shortly, darlin’.’”

“Joel, are you sure you want me to go up there alone? I mean, it’s your private space and–”

“Beanie,” He breathed softly against your lips. “S’okay. I trust you, remember?”

“Okay. Are you sure you don’t want any help down here?”

He shook his head once more as he nudged you up a few steps. “No. I’ll be alright. Go on now.” He pressed softly.

Your reluctance was noted, but Joel trusted you, and that was a fact. So, what did you really have to fear?

Your soft-padded footsteps led you further up the stairs before your body disappeared from his view. His bedroom was down the hall from Ellie’s. Like a classic teenager, her door had a sign in bold red lettering that said “KEEP OUT”. Oh to be a teenager again.

Joel’s bedroom was exactly how you pictured it to be; homey. His bed was neatly made with both sets of pillows fluffed to perfection. On his nightstand contained a book titled, “Idiot's Guide to Space” and on top of the book were his old man reading glasses.

Cute.

You didn’t want to appear as if you were snooping around, but it was hard not to when two seemingly photographs caught your attention. You padded over to the dresser with a genuine curiosity. Upon closer inspection, the first photograph encased a younger Joel with his arm around who you presumed to be his daughter. Sarah truly was the apple of his eye.

“Winning that game was a big moment for her.” Joel’s warm tone lingered in the open doorway.

“She’s beautiful, Joel.” You murmured in response as you gently set the frame down.

“She was.” He solemnly corrected you as he made his way into the room.

You could feel the heaviness weighing in his heart as his footsteps approached. You hated to think that right now he was picturing his baby girl laying in her shallow grave. She was far too young.

“Joel, please. Don’t go to that place. Sarah is beautiful, and I wish I could have had the opportunity of knowing her.”

“She woulda loved you. I’m almost sure of it. The two of you woulda been as thick as thieves.” He was standing alongside you now with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his worn out jeans.

Your gaze softened as it landed upon the second photograph. Joel and Ellie side by side, looking into Shimmer’s stall.

“Did you mean what you said earlier, Beanie?” His question startled your current thoughts as you slowly met his gaze.

“You mean when I said that Ellie would forgive you eventually, and she just needs time to heal, and so do you?”

“Yes. Y’meant that, right? You actually believe that Ellie can forgive me? That her and I will be okay again?”

“Joel, I believe that everyone can be forgiven to an extent. What you did is what any parent would do for their child. In due time she might understand, and forgive you. But, you need to start believing that yourself. Feel it in your heart that you and her will be alright. These things are delicate, and they take time, Joel.”

You could feel his muscles clench as he inhaled deeply. Sometimes hearing the truth hurt, but it was necessary.

“I guess I don’t know how to be patient at all.” He murmured with a slight shrug.

“No, that’s not true at all, Joel. You miss her, and that is completely understandable.”

“I’d do it all over again. If I was given the chance to make up for it, there ain’t a damn thing I woulda done differently.” His nostrils flared from his admittance. As if he was a once dormant volcano that was becoming active again.

“I know, Joel. I know.” You talked him down.

He appeared to be lost in his own thoughts before his shoulders finally returned to a relaxed position. “Let me get you some pj’s so you can change, and then i’ll go make our tea.”

You nodded silently as he pulled open the top drawer of the dresser and grabbed a pair of plaid pajama pants and plain t-shirt. He placed them gently into your arms. “I think there might be an extra toothbrush in one of the drawers in the bathroom. I’ll uh–give ya some privacy.” He backed off like a dog with its tail between his legs. He could already feel the shame begin to creep up every vertebrae in his spine as he slipped past the open doorway. He just wanted to be normal. To not feel this constant weight on his shoulders, or grief in his heart. He wished for happiness. To smile more. To laugh. To enjoy the life he had left to live. To love without the fear of losing.

You wished that for him too.

When he returned with two steaming mugs of herbal tea, he found you already safely tucked under the covers. ‘The Idiot’s Guide to Space’ book in your grasp. His heart swelled as he set his owl mug down along the nightstand as he offered you the other mug. A moose grazing in a snowy field was illustrated along the outside of the mug. You looked up, pausing in the paragraph you were reading, before grasping the mug gently from him. “I hope you don’t mind me reading it. The title intrigued me.” You murmured.

“Don’t mind at all. It’s got some fascinating stuff in’t.” He responded warmly before he pulled the covers back and climbed underneath them. His shoulder brushed yours as he made himself comfortable.

“Would you like me to read it to you?” Your suggestion was soft and thoughtful as his eyes met yours.

“I’d love that, Beanie.”

You naturally found yourself scooting in towards his side of the bed. You wanted to be closer to him. To feel that intimate connection that had sent a new fire scorching through your veins. His arm slowly came to rest along your shoulders while the back of your head found its home against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, his breaths soft as your words soothed him like a lullaby soothes a child. It wasn’t long before he was nodding off, struggling to keep his eyes open, but he soon gave into sleep and you followed shortly

“Joel! Help me, please! Joel!” Ellie’s screams were anguished. Frightened.

The steps leading to the basement seemed never ending as Joel raced down them. Adrenaline pumped fiercely in his veins. “Ellie!” He screamed, voice raw and cracking. His fists pounded on the door as he desperately tried to break it down. Her terrified screams rattled his skull as the thin skin of his knuckles tore and bled. “Baby girl!” He cried.

Ellie’s screams for help dissipated and turned into a harsh ringing in his ears. The never ending staircase and basement door ceased to exist.

“Joel! Joel! Wake up! Please, wake up!” Your tone was urgent, frightened as you grasped his shoulders firmly to shake him free of his nightmare.

His screams sent a wave of nausea rushing through you . “Joel, you’re safe! It's just a nightmare! It's not real, Joel!”

His eyes snapped open as he took in a lungful of air. His arms encircled around your waist as he looked around the room wildly. His shirt was soaked all the way through. “Ellie! She–she. I–I couldn’t reach her! I couldn’t save her!” He wailed profusely as you tried every attempt to calm him down.

“Joel. Listen to me, baby. It was a nightmare. It wasn’t real. Ellie is safe. She’s safe!” Your hands came to gently rest upon his cheeks as if your fingertips alone could wipe away the fear leaking from his eyes. You kissed away his tears as he trembled in your embrace. He wept as you consoled him.

Your fingers combed through his hair as you began to hum a tune of the past as one last final attempt to bring him back down to earth. Your humming transformed into words as his heart beat steadied its rhythm.

“And you will keep me safe.” You whispered.

“And you will keep me warm.” He croaked.

“And rain.”

“And rain.” He followed with a soft painful whimper.

“Will make the flowers.”

“Will make the flowers grow.” You wept in unison.

Joel awoke the following morning, rising with the sun that was beginning to peek through the beige curtains in his cozy bedroom. He was careful not to disturb you in your peaceful slumber as he detangled his legs from your own before swinging them over the side of the bed with a soft grunt. Despite the familiar ache in his back, he urged himself to stand as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The floorboards creaked beneath the weight of his footsteps as he padded off to his connected bathroom. Despite the nightmare he endured just a few hours ago, he felt moderately well rested. He splashed a bit of luke-warm water onto his face before he proceeded to brush his teeth.

He returned to his side of the bed shortly after as he quietly dressed for the day before he scribbled down a note for you to awake to. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he was leaving in a hurry, or feeling like the events that took place last night were a mistake. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. His handwriting was chicken scratch compared to your gentle strokes of the pen, but was legible at least.

Good morning, darlin.’ I'm headed down to the stables to build a pen for Honey. Help yourself to some coffee, and whatever else you’d like. I’ll be back in time to take you to breakfast.

-Your Joel.

So what if he was a bit of a sap, you were, after all, the first person he showed vulnerability to since Tess. This was as big a deal for him as it was for you, but it felt natural. As natural as breathing, as putting one foot in front of the other.

He found Honey still curled up in the corner of the couch as he stopped to give the fawn a gentle pat on her furry little head. He couldn’t help but think of the horrors that would have been unleashed on her if he didn’t rescue her in the woods. Surely, she would have been ripped to shreds.

Vile.

With one final delicate pat to her head, he reached for the blanket that was wrapped around the tiny creature, and gently tucked the corners in so she was a nice snug bug in a rug. he shuffled away to tug on his working boots before he grabbed his every-day use tool box from the closet. A ghost of a smile was tugging on his lips as he swung the metal loop of his house keys between his fingers. He was so lucky to know that just up the stairs, you lay beneath his sheets.

Even in the early morning hours, Joel could taste humidity on his tongue. July was already proving to be a sweltering one. He was too caught up in his saccharine thoughts of you back in his cozy home, to hear footsteps approaching behind him. Well, it also didn’t help that he was partially deaf in his right ear.

When he pushed open the stable doors, he was greeted with a few friendly nickers as he made his way down the stall aisle. He had developed a particular soft spot for your mare, Tess, for obvious reasons. She was sweet, gentle, kind-hearted just like you. And as silly as it may sound, he saw his Tess in your mare’s eyes.

Tex’s sleek black neck was already craning over his stall door as he pressed his velvet soft muzzle into Joel’s flannel pocket affectionately.

“Ah, I see. Am I jus’ a treat dispenser to ya now, Tex? Knew that Beanie was gonna give ya a sweet tooth.” He murmured with a deep chuckle as he set his tool box down alongside the outside of Tex’s stall. “I think your lady deserves a sugar cube first, dontcha think?”

Tex pawed the loose hay in his stall with a soft snort as Joel reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of sugarcubes to give to Tess. She didn’t like most men in Jackson, but she already adored your Joel.

The tender felt moment between beast and man was cut short from the sound of the stable doors creaking open once more. There was a sudden edge to the docile air as Lucas strode in casually.

Joel’s jaw clenched harshly under the dust filled light rays that trickled in through the cracks in the stables roof. Golden light flooded through the spaces between the wood as his eyes narrowed downwards between his boots. He was not in the mood for conversation of any kind this early in the morning, and especially not from an individual he already believed to be suspicious.

“Miller?” Lucas asked as he approached with his arms swaying at his sides. “What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“Could ask you the same,” The older man muttered under his breath.

Lucas heard him, but pretended he didn’t. “What was that?”

Joel kicked at a stray rock with the toe of his boot as he straightened himself up so that he could appear more intimidating. “I think you heard exactly what I said.”

Lucas raised a brow with an amused grin as he stopped in front of Tess’s stall. “You really can’t fuckin’ stand me, huh?” Before Joel could answer, Lucas waved him off as if they were friends having a minor disagreement.

Tess immediately took a few nervous steps back from where Lucas was leaning against the side of her stall door. Her sudden erratic behavior set Tex off immediately as he pawed the ground fiercely, and flattened his ears to the back of his skull. A territorial display that sent hairs standing up on the back of Joel’s neck almost immediately.

Joel knew that horses had a tendency to be sensitive towards certain people, but he had never seen Tess respond in this manner. It was..odd.

Lucas paid no mind to the mare's behavior as he focused his attention back on the older man. “So, who does this beauty belong to anyway?”

Joel started to stiffen before he relaxed his shoulders with a slow roll. “She’s Beanie’s.” he muttered flatly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few more sugar cubes and held them outstretched in his palm towards Tess.

Your mare took a few timid steps forwards, before she gently ate the treats right from Joel’s palm. However, as soon as Lucas reached his hand upwards to stroke her snow white neck, she shied away from his touch as the whites of her eyes shone like two pale ghosts as Tex proceeded to send his hoof colliding loudly into the side of his stall; don’t mess with his lady.

Lucas oddly didn’t seem fazed by the mare’s bizarre behavior as he shrugged his shoulders with exaggerated casualness, “mares have never been a fan of me.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Was Joel’s gruff response as he turned his back to pick up his toolbox once more. He proceeded to ignore the ‘intruder’ as he set to work on building a pen for Honey right next to Tex’s stall. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

The only problem was that Lucas had a godawful time at reading the fucking room, or he was doing this to get a rise out of Joel on purpose.

“Speaking of you and Beanie, what’s goin’ on between the two of you anyway? Hearin’ whisperin’s here and there that you and her are like an item.” He drawled smoothly.

“Ain’t think that’s much of your concern, or business to have, Lucas.” Joel’s tone was muffled as he spoke into the fabric of his flannel along his shoulder.

“Ah, I hear ya there, brother. Gotta be careful with a woman like that. They can be real heartbreakers if ya ain’t careful.”

He’s baiting you, Joel. Don’t fall for it.

“Yeah? How would you know the type of woman she is, and isn’t?” Joel delivered his response with ease as he pulled out a tape measure.

“Not sayin’ that I do, jus’ that I've been around enough women like her to know what I'm talkin’ about. And a woman like that can’t be held down. They’re flighty and callus. One second you think you’re special to them, and the next—”

“Well, who said anythin’ about me wantin’ to hold her down? She’s her own person, Lucas. I don’t own her.” Joel gritted through his teeth.

Don’t give in. Don’t give in.

Joel could hear the younger, cockier man smirking through his teeth. “So, she’s not your girl then is what you’re sayin?’ Huh. I surely thought you two were an item.”

The sound of the tape measurer clanking into the toolbox with a loud thud was all Lucas needed to know that he won. Joel straightened his back as he stood up and whipped around, fully ready to go toe to toe to get this gnat out of his face.

“Y’know what you remind me of? A snake.” Joel seethed as his fists trembled at his sides. “A snake in the tall weeds just waiting to strike. What’s your angle, Lucas?” his eyes narrowed as Lucas watched in pure amusement to watch the brave and unmovable Joel Miller slowly losing his composure.

“A snake, huh? Think more like a wolf. And you’re the boneheaded moose thinkin’ you’re unbreakable. Look at you now, Joel Miller. Trembling with rage from just my words. You know what I think?” He leaned in close enough just in case the older man couldn’t clearly hear him. “Even the strongest moose can be taken down by a pack.” He sneered.

Something inside of Joel snapped like a coil being pulled tight and he saw red as his hands grasped the lapels of the younger man's shirt with a furious rage.’ “Y’want me to go ahead and fuckin’ break the other wrist, huh?! Cus’ I can do that. Right here. Right now if you wanna keep makin’ these threats. We can have a real fuckin—”

“HEY! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN’ ON HERE?” It was Tommy, and Joel had never felt so relieved to see his brother in that moment as he released Lucas from his death-grip grasp.

Lucas looked like a deer in headlights as he was not expecting Tommy’s sudden arrival. Yet, he held his composure as he combed his fingers through his hair. “Your brother here was jus’ threatening to break my other wrist jus’ now.”

“Yeah, I heard that bit, right after you threatened him first. Get lost, now. Before I change my mind and report this directly to Maria. The hell you thinkin’ rilin’ my brother up like that?!”

Lucas was dumbfounded and ego-wounded. Most importantly, he was and always would be a coward. His eyes locked on Joel’s, and then Tommy’s before he slunk away in a wolf-like fashion through the stable doors.

Neither Miller brother spoke for a while as it appeared they were processing what had happened. Joel opted to slowly sink down between Tex’s and Tess’s stall with his hands resting between his knees as he worked on steadying his heartbeat to normal.

“Hey, Tommy?” Joel started, “How much of a’that did ya hear?”

“Enough to know that Lucas was purposely trying to get a rise out of you.” Tommy responded as he walked over to Timber’s stall and tightly shook his head.

Joel breathed out an immediate sigh of relief as he slumped back against the stall doors. “Tommy? Did Lucas show up to Jackson before, or after you and Maria found Beanie?”

Both brothers slowly met one another's gaze as Tommy gently stroked Timber’s neck with a steady palm. “After,” he confirmed Joel’s immediate suspicions.

Joel watched in silence as his brother walked over to him before he bent down and offered Joel his hand to help him up.

“Tommy, how come I didn’t hear ya come in?” Joel mumbled as he firmly grasped his brother’s hand before pulling himself up to his feet with a grunt.

Tommy could feel his heart begin to slowly sink into the pit of his stomach. Just like the way that the sun would gradually dip behind the horizon at the end of each day. He gave his brother a mournful look as he gently placed his hand along the right side of Joel’s head, and brushed his thumb across the scar. Right against the spot where the bullet missed. “Y’know why, brother.” He murmured softly with a heavy heart.

Joel knew, it was there, written into his skin. He swallowed his tears that were beginning to brew as he wrapped his arms around his brother and hugged him tightly. “Tommy, somethin’ ain’t right here. I’m gettin’ that sick feelin’ in my stomach. Were you here to see the way Tess acted towards Lucas?”

“Somethin’ definitely ain’t right. I told ya that I’d have your back, big brother. Remember? I arrived a bit too late. Musta missed that bit.”

Joel nodded as he slowly dropped his arms to his sides. “Well, she flipped out. I’m talkin’ like a complete 180 as soon as Lucas tried to touch her, Tommy. Pissed Tex the hell off as well. Somethin’ about it was...odd. Almost like she recognized his face or, she jus’ could sense that he ain’t a good person.”

“Well, horses are pretty sensitive creatures, so it is possible that maybe...”

Joel’s jaw inwardly clenched as his brain was replaying the events that just took place. There were numerous red flags that went ablazing. Tess’s fear towards Lucas. Lucas prying for information… And what the hell was the whole thing about him referring to himself as a wolf, and Joel as the boneheaded moose?

“I think we oughta start keepin’ a watchful eye on him. For all we know, he could be plannin’ somethin’ right under our noses. Tommy, the last thing you and I or Maria want is for someone to turn up missing. What about Ellie and Dina? The rest of the women around here? The sooner we–”

“Joel,” Tommy started with a heavy sigh, “I hear ya, but we need evidence. Cold. Hard. Evidence. I’d start by documenting what happened just now. Write it down in full detail. I’ll write up my own report on it as well. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye on his whereabouts, alright?”

Joel let out a heavy sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah, cus’ that’s the only way Maria would ever believe us.”

“We need to have shit to back up our accusations.” “Hey, while you’re here, mind helpin’ me build this pen for Honey? I gotta get back home in time to take Beanie to breakfast. I left her a note, but I don’t want her thinkin’ that I ditched her or somethin’.” Joel casually stated. Once he realized what he said, it was too late, and Tommy already had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Hold on a second now. Did you n’Beanie have a sleepover last night? As in she slept in your bed? Woo doggy, it’s about damn time!” Tommy nearly hollered as he went to give his brother a proper slap on his back.

Joel’s entire face turned beet red as he coughed into the sleeve of his flannel to hopefully hide his obvious blushing. “Uhh–yeah. You can call it a sleepover, I guess? Look, I don’t need ya goin’ and makin’ a big deal outta this. We kissed, and then I asked her if she would spend the night. That’s all that happened.” Well, we kissed a few times actually.

“Y’all kissed?! Joel, this is a big deal! Are ya kiddin’ me? Big brother, this is amazing news! Look at you bein’ the romantic!”

Joel let out a frustrated groan when he realized he wasn’t gonna get out of this one that easily. “Yeah. Yeah. We kissed, and I really like her, Tommy. So, can we just keep this between the two of us? I don’t want Maria, or anyone else for that matter gossipin’ about my private life.”

“Riiiight. Cus’ I’m jus’ gonna go and shout it from the rooftops that my big brother finally grew a pair and kissed the girl. Thank fuck. Honestly, I'm surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” The younger Miller brother was genuinely happy for his older counterpart. Everyone deserved that someone in their life, but Joel especially.

“I was jus’ buying myself time. Last thing I'd ever wanna do is unintentionally offend or hurt her. Now, will ya do some work for once in your life and hand me those wooden boards o’there?” he gestured to the planks of wood that were resting along one of the empty stalls. “All I will say is that woman is amazing. Not to sound like a total cliché, but she’s a breath of fresh air. Sunlight after a raging storm. She’s–”

“Made of stardust and coffee beans.” Tommy chimed in with a playful grin. “Well, you got it bad, Joel. S’alright. Happens to the best of us.” He shot his brother a knowing wink before he retrieved the wooden boards with ease.

Joel couldn’t help but allow a tiny glimpse of a smile tug on his lips from Tommy’s words. A moment of peace and blissful thoughts was better than dwelling on the elephant in the room. Something was unquestionably off about Lucas, and his rather alarming behavior.

*end Joel’s POV*

In the safety and familiar warmth of Joel’s sheets, your mind was free to wander and romp. Your brain's natural defenses to block out painful memories and terrifying events, crumbled as you subconsciously breathed in the comforting scent of Joel, your Joel. Unbeknownst to you, he was your ticket to peace. Your shining beacon of light through a pitch black formidable darkness.

As a gentle breeze swayed through the curtains in his bedroom, you were subconsciously reliving your time before Jackson. Before Maria, Tommy, and Joel. Memories that were once fragmented and jagged, were being pieced together behind softly closed lashes.

dead of the winter; post outbreak. Date unspecified. 50 miles from Jackson.

Tess was gradually growing weaker with each step she took through the billowing snow. Your horse was strong-footed and able bodied, but even she had her limits. You were beginning to feel numbness engulf your body. It felt like a thousand shards of ice impaling your skin. Your lungs ached and burned from the sub-zero temperatures. Your fingers and toes were growing stiff as you urged your mare onwards.

“Just a bit further, please, Tess. We—we can’t stop now.” You murmured through chattering teeth as the wind whipped wildly and howled in your ears.

All hope seemed to disintegrate through your frozen lashes as you could feel your body begin to shut down. It was giving up, but you weren’t ready for death's cold grasp.

You were a survivor, after all.

Smoke. Fire. Warmth.

A miracle, or a hallucination created by your deteriorating body. The fact of the matter was that you were not going to die tonight. Tess seemed to sense your desperation and urgency as she forced herself to continue forward towards the looming evergreens. The distinguishable smell of ash wafted through your nostrils the closer you drew to the campsite. You knew that fire also meant danger, but your brain had gone into survival mode and could give less of a fuck about that.

The campsite you and Tess stumbled upon seemed to be unoccupied. It should have raised your suspicions, but when you collapsed from your saddle and landed on the snowy ground with a soft thud, you convinced yourself it was a miracle. You dragged yourself closer to the fire with whatever strength you had left and rubbed your frozen gloved hands together to create some friction.

Tess’s velvet soft muzzle nudged at your back as she checked to make sure that you were okay. Her ears perked and flicked in the direction of a familiar nicker as she lifted her head quickly to observe her surroundings. Four horses were seen happily munching away on a heap of hay. Your poor mare hadn’t eaten in what felt like weeks, and her own survival instincts kicked in as she approached the other horses with timid curiosity.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you hunched over in relief. You didn’t believe in God, but if you did, then this fire must have been brought to you by a goddamn angel.

Your relief turned to dread the moment you felt the cooling sensation of metal kissing the back of your neck.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” The voice commanded as you slowly raised your arms above your head to show that you were no immediate threat.

“I’m—sorry. I assumed no one was here—I’m freezing.” Your teeth were still audibly chattering as you craned your neck to look up at the person the voice belonged to.

A man.

“Are you alone?” He had not removed the barrel of his gun from your neck as he proceeded to pat you down with his freehand.

“Yes, I am alone.”

He paused momentarily as he pondered on what should be done with you, the intruder.

“Where are you headed to?” He asked firmly.

“Nowhere. Just got caught up in this storm, and seeking shelter.”

“I see..and you’re not lyin’ when you said that you’re alone?”

“I swear on my life, I am alone. It’s just my horse Tess and I.” You pleaded softly as you took a shaky inhale through your nose.

“I believe you.”

Your shoulders immediately slumped in relief as you released the breath you were holding.

The man slowly retracted his gun into his holster before he offered you his hand. The first thing you noticed was his tattooed skin on the inside of his wrist. The fabric of his jacket had lifted just enough for you to make out the design. A wolf head with beady red eyes that appeared to be staring right into your soul.

“Thank you. I’ll be out of your hair by the morning. I just need to warm up a bit if that’s alright?” You grasped his outstretched hand as he gently hoisted you to your feet.

“Nonsense. You’re freezin’, and probably starvin’, right? C’mon, let’s get you somethin’ to eat.”

You were beyond starving, but he didn’t need to know that. You were slightly weary of this stranger's sudden hospitality, but that didn’t deter you from making the choice that would haunt you forever.

“I suppose..I could eat something.” You mumbled under your breath.

He smiled, it appeared genuine on the surface, but it masked unspeakable evil beneath white teeth, and kind eyes.

He told you his name, and you told him yours as he led you to his nearby tent. Your body shamelessly relaxed as he offered you safety and food in your belly. If only you knew what was to come.

You didn’t leave the following morning. Or the morning after . Nor the morning after that. You stuck around because the truth was, you weren’t going to survive on your own for much longer, and here was an opportunity that your brain was screaming at you to not pass up on. Endure and survive, and survive you did. Even if it meant joining a raiders camp.

It didn’t happen overnight, as trust takes time to be built and nurtured, but when it did happen, the lines were gradually blurred. Was this a genuine feeling from your heart that hadn’t been touched by another soul since before the outbreak, or was this simply your brain concocting a plan to keep your heart beating, and your blood pumping. The fact of the matter was that you firmly believed your body was incapable of dipping back into the shredded remnants of intimacy that you left behind in Austin. One thing was for certain, this man offered you protection, warmth, and steady nutrients, and you’d be damned if you let that go.

In your eyes, you consensually engaged in a physical relationship with this man. Make him want you. Make him need you so much that you’ll never live in fear again. Because once you make him believe that he is important, he’ll protect you till your last dying breath.

If only it were that easy. If only you knew that the monsters weren’t the cordyceps, but instead they were shaped as a man that you willingly shared a tent with.

You thought you had played him like a fiddle, but he was onto you without you realizing it. He had your little game all figured out, and when you did, it was too late.

Those same kind eyes, and bright smile was the last thing you remember seeing before everything went black as your body slumped into his lap. The tea mug that was in your hands now clattered to the ground, shattering upon impact. Your arm fell limp at your side as your breath stilled. Unbeknownst to you, the tea he gave you was laced, and now you were at his mercy.

When you awoke the following morning, your mind was groggy and laden with confusion as you tried to piece together the missing fragments of last night’s events . The ground was cold beneath you as your eyes fluttered open. The coolness of metal bit fiercely at your bare skin giving you goosebumps You were encaged; literally. Surrounded by steel bars as you struggled to pull yourself up into a sitting position, but it felt like your body weighed a ton of bricks. You tried to scream, but your vocal chords felt shot as your voice fell silent.

You shook the bars with a new instilled fear as tears flooded your cheeks like a rushing river. Your eyes frantically looked around as a heavy pair of boots slowly approached.

“Wouldn’t do that if I was you, princess.” The familiar voice cooed unpleasantly and bile rose up your throat.

“You—you did this to me! Why?!” Your voice cracked. Your brain was scrambling to piece your broken memory together. One moment you were drinking tea, and the next—

“You played me for a fuckin’ fool. Thought you could just use me for your own survival, huh? Well, baby, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you ain’t fuckin’ goin’ anywhere.”

“What—what are you talking about?! What did you do to me?! Where are my clothes?!”

He crouched down as his cruel gaze met your frightened one. His hand grasped your chin harshly as he yanked your face against the bars that encaged you. “I put you in your fucking place. Did you really think I wouldn’t catch onto your little game? You think you’re so fuckin’ smart, huh? You thought you had me all figured out. That’s where you’re wrong, baby. Oh so wrong. You’re the fuckin’ fool.”

“Please, I’m sorry! I wasn’t—you’ve got it all wrong! I swear!” You pleaded desperately as he dug the blunt end of his fingernails into your chin.

“Oh, my dear sweet, naive creature, you walked right into the wolves fuckin’ den without even realizing it. You’re the fool for trusting me, and now you’re gonna pay for it until I decide to put you out of your misery. Save your tears, princess. You’re gonna need them.”

You woke up in a thick pool of sweat. The sheets clung to your skin like glue, and it felt like you were trapped. Joel’s bedroom sickly transformed into steel bars. Cold, and biting at your raw skin. You blinked, hoping this was all a hallucination. Your mind just playing a twisted trick on your fragile state. You called for Joel. You called for anyone who could possibly hear your pleas. The more you struggled, the more the bars seemed to close in on you. Suffocating. Stripping your lungs of all oxygen as your hands clawed at your throat.

Where was Joel?

You squeezed your eyes shut tight to the point where it felt painful. Seconds ticked before you finally threw the covers from your body with a strangled gasp. Your eyes shot open as you surveyed your surroundings. The steel bars were gone. The tattoo—

Tattoo

Wolf head

Beady red eyes

You chanted these three phrases under your breath like a woman gone mad. Your skin was clammy to the touch as you stumbled away from the bed.

Tattoo

Wolf head

Beady red eyes

Write this down.

Your eyes frantically locked in on the note that was left along the nightstand. You snatched it up in a fury. Your vision darted across every word on the page as if it held some hidden clue between the lines.

You continued to recite the three phrases as you tucked the note into the pocket of the flannel pajama bottoms you were wearing. Your ears picked up on the familiar sound of the front door being unlocked. Your feet seemed to carry you faster than your brain could process as you stumbled out of Joel’s bedroom.

Tattoo

Wolf head

Beady red eyes

“Joel!” You yelled urgently from the top of the stairs

“Beanie!” He answered back with the same level of urgency. He met you at the halfway point of the staircase before you collapsed into his arms.

“Beanie?! What’s wrong? Darlin’ what’s happened?” His arms remained anchored around your waist as you grasped his forearms tightly, he surely would have indents in his skin from your death grip.

“Tattoo. Wolf head. Beady red eyes.” You mumbled with your forehead pressed deeply into his chest.

“Beanie, what are you goin’ on about? What tattoo? Darlin’, this ain’t makin’ any sense at all! Please, tell me what’s going on?!” He tried his hardest not to yell, but after what happened in the stables, he was in fact freaking out.

“He—he has a tattoo! A tattoo on his wrist, Joel!” You spoke in a frantic, excitable tone.

“Beanie, who has a tattoo?” His tone was hushed, and far less frantic than your own.

You knew his name. You heard it in your nightmare. Five letters. You could say it. You could say it right now and it would all be over!

“The man. He—he has a tattoo. Right wrist, Joel! He has a tattoo. A wolf head! Beady red eyes! It’s on his wrist! I know it is—you have to believe me!”

“Beanie, darlin’, I believe you. Is this the man that?—“

it was as if everything came crashing down around you so suddenly. You stilled in his grasp. Your voice ran silent as you slowly lifted your head from his chest. Your eyes were glazed over as if you were dead inside. Perhaps you were. Perhaps your body was shutting down. Were you breathing? Was your heart pumping blood? Everything was sounding so fuzzy. So far away. The cage. The steel bars. No. No. No. please! You—you have it all wrong! I swear!

You couldn’t hear Joel screaming your name. You couldn’t feel his hands around your body. You couldn’t see him. You were reaching out for him and touching nothing but thin air.

“Beanie, what’s happening?! You’re scarin’ me!” He watched in horror as your eyes rolled back into your skull before you went limp in his arms.

“Doc, I don’t fucking understand. What the hell happened to her?! She was muttering under her breath. Something about a tattoo on a man’s wrist! Next thing I know, she’s talking as if I ain’t even there! Like she was reliving somethin?!’ Then her eyes roll back—and I fuckin’ thought she was dead!”

“Joel, I need you to calm down. She had an extremely intense PTSD episode. I’m not even sure if I have the qualifications to explain it. It was a panic attack that led to her body to shut down ...” The doctor spoke in a hushed tone.

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to calm down! Do you have any idea what that was like to witness it?! I didn’t even fucking know how to help her, doc!” Joel was gripping his hair so tightly between his fists, it was shocking that he didn’t accidentally tear any strands out.

“Joel, I’m gonna need you to calm down, or you’re gonna get escorted out. Do I make myself clear? Not to mention, you’re gonna fucking hyperventilate if you keep this shit up! I need you to take some deep breaths and pull yourself together!” Doc sounded exasperated as he struggled to keep his own cool.

“Joel?! Hey, hey! C’mon, let’s go take a breather, okay? Ellie and Dina are in there with her. She’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s go take a walk.” Tommy had shown up at just the right time as Joel was thinking of all the ways he could ring up the doc.

Tommy whispered something in his brother's ear as he wrapped a strong arm around his shoulder before nearly having to drag the older Miller brother down the hall through the doors of the med ward.

“Beanie?” A familiar feminine voice asked softly from your bedside.

Ellie and Dina were seated next to the hospital bed that you currently laid in.

Your lashes fluttered open as you squinted up at the annoying bright buzzing fluorescent lights. Your head turned to the side of the scratchy pillow as your brain began to process who the voice belonged to.

“Ellie? Dina? Where—am I?” You whispered with uncertainty as the two teens slowly looked over at one another before returning their focus back onto you.

“Beanie,” Dina started, “you..had a panic attack.” Ellie murmured.

“What? I don’t remember any of it—who brought me here?”

“Joel did. He came rushing out of the house with you limp in his arms. He was yelling for help and we heard the commotion. Beanie, we thought you were dead.”

“When—did this happen?” You asked just nearly above a whisper as you began to cycle through your memories. Unfortunately, a huge chunk was missing and you could feel the frustration tears begin to brew along your waterline.

“This morning. Right before the breakfast bell.” Dina confirmed. She let go of Ellie’s hand as she reached for the box of tissues for you.

“What time is it now? How long have I been here?”

“An hour after the dinner bell went off. You’ve been unconscious all day, Beanie.” Ellie stood up from the chair and approached your bedside slowly sinking down along the edge of the worn mattress. “Can we get you anything? You must be starving.”

Your body sunk further into the mattress as the weight of Ellie’s words made their mark. It felt like it had only been minutes, when it had in fact been hours. “Some water, and—bread with honey? If the mess hall is still open.” You were feeling quite parched.

“Of course. C’mon, Dee. We might have to bribe Angie to whip something up. We’ll be right back. Okay, Beanie?” Ellie gently patted your covered knee before she stood up from the edge of the bedside and offered her hand to Dina.

“Okay.” You weakly responded.

Shortly after the girls left, the door opened once more. Your mind had already hoped it was Joel, but instead you were met with a different pair of brown eyes; Tommy’s.

“Hey, how are we feelin?’” The younger Miller brother softly asked as he sank down into one of the chairs.

“Where’s Joel, Tommy?”

“He’s outside takin’ a breather. Got pretty mouthy with doc, so I stepped in before things coulda gotten ugly. He’ll be alright though. Jus’ need him to blow off some steam first. He’s a bit too excitable to be in here right now.”

You could faintly taste copper along your tongue as you slowly sat up. The right side of your mouth felt swollen and tender, and when you reached your hand up to touch the outside of your cheek, Tommy gently grabbed your wrist and lowered it back down to your side.

“Y’tore your mouth up pretty good. Doc said it’ll heal on its own, but to try and not chew on the right side. Don’t wanna go and irritate it.”

“Tommy, I don’t remember what happened. None of it.”

“Beanie, it’s okay. It was a panic attack. The Doc believes you to have PTSD. You’re gonna be alright. Joel told me that before you passed out, you were muttering about a tattoo on a man’s wrist? Beanie, I know how adamant my brother is about protecting you, but I am too. So, if there’s anything you remember outside of the tattoo, I need you to tell me, okay?” Tommy was a good person. You knew this since him and Maria saved you all those years ago. He never treated you differently. You could trust him just as much as you could trust Joel.

Five letters. Tattoo. Wolf head. Beady eyes.

Tommy wrote everything down.

Ellie and Dina came back with water, bread with honey plus a bit of chili from the mess hall. When Angie heard the news, she wasted no time to whip something up for you. She was such a giving person.

Doc didn’t have any helpful information to relay back to you. He basically just told you to take it easy, and to let your mouth heal. He had no answers to your questions, psychiatry isn’t his field after all. And this made you feel like you truly were just a nutty coffee woman. Maybe even a lost cause. It wasn’t until deep into the night when your Joel finally made an appearance.

You were half asleep when you heard the sound of one of the chairs scrape across the flooring. The sound nearly had you shooting up from the covers before two strong, yet gentle pair of hands eased you back down.

“Shh. It’s okay, Beanie. It’s just me. It’s just Joel.” He reassured you as he slowly sank down into the chair as he removed his hands from your shoulders and rested them between his knees.

Your eyes zoned in on the gauze wrapped around his bicep as he cleared his throat softly.

“Joel, what happened to you?” You timidly asked.

“S’just a scratch, darlin.’ You were holding onto me pretty dang tight. Broke the skin a little, but I’m okay.”

“Joel, I’m so sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I don’t even remember grabbing onto you like that. Where were we when it happened?”

“Beanie, it’s okay. You didn’t hurt me, Angel. You were havin’ a panic attack in the middle of the staircase. I came home from the stables, and you came rushing down, and we met halfway. It all happened so fast.”

“Joel, I did hurt you. You’re fucking injured because of me. I’m so sorry.”

Look what you’ve done.

He’s really going to think that you're just a nutty coffee woman now.

“Beanie, I need you to believe me when I tell you it’s okay. You didn’t have any control of your actions, and I’d never hold that against you, okay? Y’just, you had me so freaked out. You stopped breathing. I couldn’t find your pulse, and I thought you were dead. Thought you had a heart attack or somethin’. Scared me so bad. I’m just so happy that you’re okay.” He was reaching for your hand now as his fingers loosely interlocked with your own.

“I stopped..breathing? Oh god, Joel. I—I don’t even know what to say. Doc didn’t even have much of an explanation for me. Just told me to take it easy and to be gentle with my mouth.”

“He’s fuckin’ useless. I wish he had the answers for you, Beanie. I really wish he did. But, the good news is that I can take ya home whenever you’d like, okay? We can stop by your place, and then head back to mine.”

“Joel, what are you talking about? Why can’t I go back to my home?” He saw the confused frown appear on your lips as he let out a heavy sigh. His thumb gently stroked the outside of your hand as his eyes met yours.

“Beanie, I know you ain’t gonna agree to this, but I think it’s best that for the time being you stay at my place. I want to make sure that you have the time to recover, and the girls would love to spend some more time with you. It’ll only be for a little while. I promise.”

“Joel, I appreciate your offer, but I just want to go home. Can I please go home?”

“Honey, I know you do, but this will only be for a few days tops. I would never force you to agree to this. I’m just suggestin’ it for your own well-being, okay? Jus’ need ya to trust me to trust you. Y’remember that day, dontcha baby?”

Even your stubbornness had its limits. Despite not initially agreeing, you could tell just from Joel’s eyes alone, that he just wanted to take care of you. Perhaps his initial reasoning was a little selfish, but it undoubtedly felt good knowing that someone in this world cared about you so much, that your well-being was important to them.

“Okay. I trust you, Joel.” You squeezed his hand firmly as he gave you a reassuring nod.

Joel gave you all the time that you needed to gather up your belongings from home. He assured you that this would only be temporary, and he just wanted to make sure that you would heal. You were too exhausted to put up a fight as you zipped your backpack up with a sigh.

You loosely held hands the entire short walk back to his home. You could faintly hear girlish giggles coming from the otherside of the front door as he unlocked it.

“Tommy sent Ellie and Dina over to keep an eye on Honey. We finished buildin’ her pen next to Tex earlier this morning.” He murmured softly as he pushed the handle down and nudged it open with his shoulder.

A smile began to slowly creep over your tired features as Ellie, Dina, and a very playful Honey were seen in your peripheral. Dina was laying between Ellie’s arms on the couch while she was holding the baby bottle at Honey’s level. The young fawn was happily drinking her fill from the bottle, her fluffy white tail wagging happily.

Joel brushed past you with ease before he cleared his throat. “Hey, if you want, y’girls can take Honey up to Ellie’s for the night?”

Ellie briefly made eye contact with Joel before she returned her gaze to the sweet giggles coming from Dina. “Are you sure that’s alright?”

“Positive. S’late , and Beanie oughta be gettin’ some sleep.” Joel replied.

“Alright. We’ll get out of your hair then, Joel. C’mon, Dee, let’s go to bed.” She gave Dina’s shoulder a soft squeeze.

Joel watched silently as the two girls departed from the couch. Dina was protectively holding Honey in her arms now as if she was a small child. The two girls nodded in your direction before they headed upstairs to Ellie’s room.

He didn’t sleep a wink. Last night’s nightmare a long forgotten memory. He wanted to make sure you were okay. So, he stayed up for the rest of the night thinking about you and Ellie.

Two days had passed since your panic attack. Joel would be with you in the early mornings before he’d be whisked off on patrol, and he’d be with you in the evenings. When he wasn’t around during the day, you were graced by both Dina and Ellie’s presence. You weren’t aware of it yet, but both girls cared for you deeply. Girlhood was alive and well in Jackson.

You spent the afternoon in the stables with Ellie and Dina Spending time with the horses and Honey. The young fawn was settling into her new home under the watchful eye of both Tex and Tess.

In the evening, shortly after dinner, you suggested to the girls that it would be fun to have a proper girls night. Face masks, movies, snacks, and of course some crafting. You showed them how to make paint paste from crushing down flower petals and adding a bit of water to turn the powder into a workable paste. A dash of olive oil helped lessen the grainy texture. You promised them that at a later date, you’d show them how to spin the clay wheel, just as you promised Joel.

The record player was crackling softly when the front door squeaked open and closed. Joel hung his rifle along the side of the door before he sunk down onto the bench with a soft grunt. His back hurt ten times more than usual today. He and Tommy patrolled for miles under the sweltering sun. And his frustrations were apparent as he unlaced his boots with a huff, and threw them to the side.

Ellie and Dina were seated at the kitchen table, focused on their paintings as you were making a plate of sandwiches to share. Despite being focused on the task at hand, you faintly heard the sound of the front door opening. You knew Joel was home, finally.

He was scrubbing his hands down his face when he heard your footsteps before you sat down along the wooden bench beside him.

“Hey.” He mumbled tiredly as he dropped his hands to his knees. “What’s goin’ on in there?” He questioned as he turned his body to face you, wincing from the strain it put on his back.

“Girls night. You wanna join? I just made some sandwiches.” You placed your hand gently across his own with a soft smile.

“Kind of you to offer, but I ain’t a girl. I don’t wanna spoil y’alls fun. I will, however, have a sandwich if there’s any to spare for me?” He forced a smile through his pain, clenching his jaw slightly.

“Joel, there’s plenty of sandwiches to go around. I’ll fix you a plate, alright?” You squeezed his hand soothingly.

“Thank you, doll. I’ll probably be out in the shed so y’girls have the house to yourselves.” He added.

“How was patrol?” You asked with genuine concern when you zoned in on the red, blistered patch spreading across the bridge of his nose. “You want some lotion for that? Sun must have been brutal out there.”

He scoffed under his breath as he leaned back against the wall. “It was shit.” He wanted to tell you more, but it was too risky. Too much was currently at stake, and he didn’t want to cause you unnecessary stress. You had been through too much. “Yeah, sun was brutal. Spent a lot of time out in the open plains. Ain’t much cover out there.” He drawled.

“I’m sorry, honey. ” You murmured as you reached your hand up and gently raked your fingers through his hair in a hope to bring him some form of comfort.

“S’okay, darlin.’ How are you doin?’” He asked softly as he leaned into your caress. His mind may have been a warzone, but his words masked it well enough.

“Pretty good. Honey is settling into her new home. I showed Ellie and Dina how to make their own paints from crushed up flower petals. We’re gonna do face masks soon and then watch a movie. Are ya sure you don’t want to join?” You leaned in, letting your fingers slowly drop from his hair, and brush across his weathered cheekbone.

“I’m glad to hear it. Face masks and a movie sound tempting, but I don’t wanna intrude and spoil y’alls fun.” He reassured you as he went in for a kiss. You must have sensed that he needed it as soon as his lips brushed yours, and your lashes fluttered shut. The sweet moment passed as he gently squeezed your knee before he pushed himself up from the bench. You watched as he shuffled down the hall and out of sight.

With a sigh you gathered up his discarded boots and placed them neatly on the doormat next to your own before returning to the kitchen. “Are you girls ready for some sandwiches and face masks?” You asked with a genuine smile as you clasped your hands together.

Both girls nodded and offered to help clean up the table first while you grabbed a plate and placed a couple sandwiches on it before making your way outside to Joel’s shed. You found him sitting in silence with his notebook open on a blank page, sans the title in the top right corner; To Bill and Frank. You set the plate down quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of his head before heading back inside the house.

Dina was in the family room with her own plate while Ellie was still putzing around the kitchen. It appeared as if she had been waiting for you to return based on the way she was nervously ringing her hands together.

“Hey, Beanie?” The teen asked as she eyed her drying painting.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

She took a deep breath before exhaling. “How’s um–how’s Joel doin’ lately?” She asked just above a whisper.

“He’s doing okay. Well, at least I think he is? I think Patrol is weighing on him lately. Y’know, I'm sure he’d love it if you asked him yourself.”

A pained expression crossed Ellie’s face as she brought her arms across her chest in a protective motion, shaking her head tightly at your suggestion. “I can’t do that, Beanie.”

“Ellie, look, I know that you and Joel aren’t on good terms right now, but–”

“What do you know of it?” She questioned.

Your eyes flickered to where Dina was sitting on the couch, and then back to Ellie as your shoulders slumped inwards. “Let's go upstairs for a minute to talk, okay? You can help me grab the skincare stuff.”

Ellie glanced back towards Dina before she nodded in agreement and followed you up the staircase.

“Beanie,” She started timidly, “Did Joel–did he tell you about me?” Ellie was a smart enough kid to know the answer, but she wanted to hear it directly from you.

“He did, a few days ago. The same night that you came home and found us in the kitchen. After you left, he told me about what he did to save you and that you’re distant from him because of it.”

Ellie fought the urge to laugh as she leaned against the bathroom sink with her arms crossed. You could see her fingers begin to tremble. “Yeah? Did he also fail to mention that he fuckin’ killed an entire hospital of Fireflies? And he took the choice of making my life matter away from me?” Her tone was bitter as she gnawed fiercely on her lower lip.

“Ellie, he told me everything, and the reason why he did it.” You reasoned with her as you set the jars of homemade clay masks down on the counter. “Before you jump to conclusions, I understand why you’re upset with him, Ellie.”

She looked surprised as she briefly made eye contact before staring at a chipped patch of paint on the wall. “So, you don’t agree with him then? Is that what you’re telling me? He took my choice away, Beanie. My life could have mattered, and he fuckin’ took that from me.” She whispered grimly as stubborn tears began to trickle down her cheekbones.

“Ellie, your feelings are completely valid. But, your life does matter. You are so important. I know it feels like everything has been ripped from you, but you mean so much to him, Tommy, Dina,myself. I know it’s hard, I know it is, kid. He did what every parent would do for their child, biological or not. He’ll always believe that what he did was right, and that will never change.” You reached your hand up and gently placed it along her shoulder as more tears began to fall.

“I just wish he had given me that choice, Beanie. After everything he and I went through? For what? For my immunity to just be fuckin’ wasted? What if there was a chance? What if this cure–” She clenched her fists tightly as she tucked her chin against her shoulder to try and block out the tears.

“Ellie, the journey that you and Joel took together was not wasted. You survived together. You helped him in more ways than you and I can even begin to imagine. You saved him just as much as he saved you. Ellie, he loves you. He loves you so goddamn much. The world is filled with cruel people. People who take advantage of others weaknesses. People who were born with hate in their hearts, and people who learned to hate. To be cruel. To hurt those around them. Do you know what you’ve done for him, Ellie? You taught that man how to unlearn his hatred for the world. You did that, kiddo.”

Ellie’s sniffles echoed against the faded tiles as she wiped her tears on her sleeve. Her perspective of her purpose in life, and her immunity had been skewed for so many years. Marlene told her she could change the world. She could save everyone. She was manipulated into believing that there could be a cure, and as soon as her assumed purpose was ripped away from her, she felt useless.

“There never was going to be a cure, was there? I was..going to die for nothing?” She questioned somberly as her glassy eyes met your empathy filled ones.

“I don’t have that answer for you, kiddo. I’m sorry. Look, I won’t tell you what you should do, but if you find it in your heart to forgive him, start by talking to him, okay? Whenever you feel ready.” You squeezed her shoulder with a reassuring nod.

“And from there?” She asked in hope that somehow you would have all the answers.

“You both get to live in peace as father and daughter.” You concluded.

Ellie was throwing her arms around your neck in an instant, hugging you tightly as she buried her face into your shoulder, sobbing softly.

You let your own arms drape loosely around the teen’s frame as you hugged. You whispered to her that everything would be alright in the end.

“He’s so lucky to have you, Beanie. You’re one in a million, and I'm happy that he has someone. He’s been through so much.” She murmured against your shirt, using the fabric as the vessel to catch her free falling tears.

“You’re one in a million too, kiddo.” You whispered softly, eyes glistening as you rubbed soothing circles into her back.

Joel was sitting out on the back porch. Seated with his guitar comfortably laying across his lap as he plucked a few strings. After writing the letter to Bill and Frank, he needed to take an emotional break from his current feelings. Music always helped, and music connected him to Sarah and Tommy. He was grateful for the fact that he could enjoy something as simple as playing a few strings on a guitar.

Ellie didn’t approach at first. She was nervous, evidently. After her heartfelt discussion with you, she made the conscious decision to finally take the first step in forgiving Joel for what he had taken from her.

Her boots creaked along the wood as his head slowly lifted. His lips parted, eyes glimmering in pure surprise as he set his guitar down to the side.

“Hey, kiddo.” He murmured in acknowledgement of her presence.

Ellie didn’t respond as she walked towards the railing along the porch and placed her hands against the ledge. Her shoulders were tense and stiff as he approached alongside her, owl mug clasped between his palms as his safety net.

“What’re you drinkin?’” She asked while looking down at faded wood on the railing.

“Coffee.” He responded softly while resting his arms over the ledge. “Shouldn’t y’be in there for girls night?” He brought the rim of the mug up to his lips before taking an inaudible sip.

“I just wanted to come out here for a bit of fresh air.” Ellie mumbled her little white lie.

“Oh, I see. Well, I don’t wanna go disturbin’ your fresh air.” He went to walk away, but Ellie stopped him.

“Joel, that’s not what I meant. Look, I just. Fuck, I’m so stupid.” She whispered under her breath.

“Kiddo, you’re not stupid. I jus–” He was cut off by her words slicing through the balmy air like a sharpened blade.

“I was supposed to die in that hospital, Joel. That was my purpose. And my life would have fuckin’ mattered, but you took that from me. I know you were just doin’ what you believed to be the right thing, Joel. I know you were just tryin’ to save me, but I can’t just let that go. I still lay awake at night thinking about what would have happened if I had died in that hospital. If the doctors extracted the cordyceps from my brain and created a cure, maybe the world would be a different place than it is now. I guess we’ll never know because there is zero chance of ever creating the vaccine.” She fought through fresh tears. In truth, she wanted to yell. To scream and pound her fists into his chest, but she knew this was for the better.

“Ellie, if I was ever given the chance, I’d do it all over again.” His eyes locked on hers. “I know I took that choice from you, but Marlene did as well. Why else do you think we were ambushed? Marlene knew that I wouldn’t let you go through with it had I known that you would have to die. I trusted Marlene , and she wouldn’t even let us say goodbye. To talk to you one last time. I asked and she took you to surgery while I was out cold.. I know it was selfish of me. I know it was, but losing the world felt unbearable and I had to save it.” He was visibly showing discomfort by the way his fingers flexed and trembled against the outside of the mug. His words fell heavy as he awaited Ellie’s response.

“Joel, you didn’t save the world. You took the last shred of hope that humanity had and fuckin’ crushed it! I could have made a difference! I could have saved the world, Joel!” Her voice cracked as her words were lodged in her throat from the oncoming wave of tears.

“I did save the world. I saved my world, Ellie. I lost a daughter once, and I wasn’t about to lose another. Not when you and I endured so much together. You may not be my flesh and blood, but you’re my daughter, and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.” His own tears began to prick the corner of his eyes at his confession. His heart clenched and twisted like a fist. “I couldn’t lose you. You mean too much to me, Ellie.” He croaked.

“I don’t know if I'll ever be able to forgive you, Joel. But I would like to try.” There it was. That sliver of hope that you told Joel to hold onto, and Ellie the same. The extension of an olive branch. A father and daughter making up.

A stray tear rolled down his cheek and clinked softly against the rim of his mug. His lower lip wobbled as he sniffled softly.

“I’d like that.”

Ellie released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding as her body relaxed. She gradually found herself gravitating towards him as their shoulders brushed gently.

A moment’s silence passed before Joel spoke again. “Ellie, I need to tell ya somethin’ that only uncle Tommy and I know about, okay?”

“What is it that you need to tell me, Joel?” Her cheek slowly came to rest between the dip in his shoulder as his posture relaxed.

“Tommy and I have been gatherin’ up evidence and writing up reports to turn in to Maria. We’re under the suspicion that Lucas, one of the guys on patrol, has ulterior motives inside the community. I need you and Dina to stay sharp, okay? You see anythin’ suspicious, you alert Tommy and I immediately, okay, baby girl?”

“How long have you been suspecting him, Joel?”

“Since that night at the Tipsy Bison. When I confronted Seth for calling you and Dina a homophobic slur. The same night that Lucas ‘innocently’ grabbed Beanie’s arm outside the ladies room.“ He confirmed.

“Y’don’t think he has anythin’ to do with those charred bodies that you and Tommy found in the woods last winter, do you?” Ellie asked with uncertainty.

Joel sighed deeply as he tightened his grip around the mug. His deep brown pools met hers in a stern, serious look. “I think he has everythin’ to do with those poor women that we found in the woods.”

______________

*Ambiguous POV*

Raider camp. Approximately five miles south of Jackson

“And what if she’s not in her home, what do we do then?” The man asked.

“She’ll be there. I’m sure of it. And in the case she’s not? Don’t you fuckin’ bother showin’ up empty handed. Haven’t you been lookin’ for the opportunity to prove yourself to me? Well, here’s your chance. Don’t disappoint me.” The other man warned his counterpart with a deadly look as he twirled his favorite blade in his hand.

The peaceful utopian community of Jackson would never see this coming.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel x f!reader #joel x reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #joel tlou #protective joel #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel miller series

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buckys-little-belle · 11 months ago

Text

Chapter Two - Backpack, Backpack

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

Warnings - Mentions of Bucky’s ‘Old Life’, talks about slight “Violence” (Bucky’s past), talks of a first aid kit, feeling “scared” about being a little, fluff! Obviously!

Word Count - 2164

Note - I've finished all of Bub and Buck's story now, and I have to say it's been crazy going back and blending chapters/blurbs together to create a more cohesive story. It's been fun, and crazy, and honestly I missed this little place that I loved so much. Cafe BigNSmall is the beginning of so much, not just this account. It was the first little writing thing I put out that really got traction and that led me to where I am now. Going to school in January for creative writing, beginning the process of writing my own book. This little fic that has brough comfort to so many, myself included, is so much bigger than just a fanfiction or just a writing process and I'm so thankful for everyone who has stuck by my side, who has liked, reblogged, and sent asks about it. I love every one of you, I love who you've helped me become, and I've loved every minute of re-writing this series and I hope you love re-reading, or even reading it for the first time. I just have so so so much love in my heart for this and for you <3

. ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ .

Bucky sat at his same table for the umpteenth time, but this time he sat with a smile knowing someone was on their way to sit with him. For the first time in a while Bucky wasn’t sitting and watching everyone while feeling jealous, instead he watched as a Caregiver hugged their Little and felt hopeful that he might get to have that one day.

“MR!” Y/n yelled from the entrance like she couldn’t believe he was there, sitting at their table ready for whatever she wished to do. “Hi!” She smiled at him when she got to the table, her usual overalls and t-shirt combo covered by a heavy sweater. He was happy she had covered up more than yesterday, the sky grey instead of blue, and the colder.

“Hi.” He smiled back, Bucky was sure he looked goofy with how big his smile was but he didn’t care. “Chilly?” He asks as he watches them shiver slightly when the finally sit down.

“Yeah.” Y/n tilts her head to the side as she seems to contemplate something. “I think ‘m gonna get a hot chocolate.” She rummages around her bag before finding her wallet and pulling out a five dollar bill. Bucky was quicker though, already on his feet and in the line. “What are you gonna get?” Y/n asks as she joins him in the line.

“Well, I think I’m going to get a hot chocolate too.” He looks down at her, a silly grin on her face as she nods her head. “Their cake pops look good too.” Bucky points to the glass case full of baked goods and premade sandwiches.

“I know!” Y/n practically jumps. “I had one once.” They frown. “But I never have enough moneys for one, maybe next week I’ll get one.” They nod their head, agreeing with their idea.

Bucky already planned on buying Y/n a cake pop, but wanted to make sure she actually did like them. Finding out she’s only had one because she can’t afford them has him vowing to always buy her one whenever she’s here.

The money Bucky got from the government after his treatment went public often sits in his bank account unused, he has what he needs, and most of what he wants, and he hates spending the money on useless things. Yet as he watches Y/n’s eyes flicker to the case full of sweet treats with a frown on their face he’s happy to know he finally has something, someone worth spending money on.

“Hi, what can I get you today?” The barista smiles at Bucky, giving an extra sweet grin and a wave to Y/n.

“Can I get two medium hot chocolates, please?” Bucky places his hand on Y/n’s shoulder to get her attention before asking. “What kind of cake pop do you want Bub?”

“I can’t.” They shrug their shoulders, clearly not aware that Bucky’s already ordering for her.

“I’m buying you one. Which one do you want, Bub?” He adds some clarification, leaning down slightly to be at Y/n’s height, pointing to the cake pops in the case. “I love vanilla, I think I’ll get a vanilla one.” He says, hoping that him getting one will make Y/n feel less nervous.

She begins playing with her hands, twisting her fingers together, something Bucky’s noticed she does when anxious. “Um, I like chocolate.” She whispers, looking back at Bucky with weary eyes. “But I don’ wan’ you to buy it, I -” Bucky doesn’t let her finish her sentence, instead he stands and orders both cake pops before paying.

With both hands on Bub’s shoulders he moves them over to the wait station. “When you’re with me I’ll be the one buying things, okay?” His tone is sweet but also somehow firm, hoping his words make sense and are final, but also hoping he doesn’t seem too overbearing.

“Like a, like when.” Bub stumbled over her words before turning around to face Bucky, his hands dropping from her shoulders only for her to grab his left, glove covered, hand to fidget with it like she does hers. “Like a caregiver?” She asks, finally meeting Bucky’s glance.

“Exactly like that.” Bucky nods. “I’ll act like your caregiver when we’re together, okay?” He regrets using the word ‘act’ the moment he says it, Y/n somberly nodding at his words. He wants to be her caregiver all the time, he doesn’t want to just act as one while around her, but he met her yesterday. Neither of them know each other well enough for that kind of trust, yet Bucky seems to feel like they both are on the same wavelength. Like they’ve waited long enough for someone to be their other, why wait a little longer.

“I’d like tha’.” Y/n nods, turning back around in Bucky’s arms to wait for their cake pop and hot chocolate.

. ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ .

For a whole week Bucky and Bub met up everyday, getting hot chocolate and cake pops. Y/n kept giving Bucky colouring pages to take home with her signature at the bottom, his fridge now covered in them after a frantic late night trip to buy magnets. Walking into his house and seeing the fridge coloured in pictures made him love the fact that he bought a huge fridge able to store at least another week's worth of pictures without having to remove anymore of the ones he’s already been given.

“Hi, Mr!” Y/n smiled as she sat down on her booth seat, her backpack placed on the table as she got comfortable. “I made you something.”

“You did?” Bucky unpackaged her cake pop and placed it on a napkin, sliding it over to her along with her hot chocolate. “Careful it’s hot.” Bucky warned as Bub went straight for her drink the moment it was in her line of sight.

“Otay.” She blew a breath onto the cup, though Bucky wasn’t sure how helpful her hot puff of air would be in cooling it down, instead pulling it back to himself and blowing cold air on it for her. “Here.” She placed a piece of paper onto the table.

This picture wasn’t one from a colouring book, but one on regular plain paper, drawn by Y/n and coloured by her to. Two figures stood hand in hand with a box of crayons in the middle. One person was obviously Bucky, the other Y/n. Even if he couldn’t tell Bub had written their names “Mr” and “Bub” below each of their persons. “I love it.” Bucky smiled, sliding the, now less hot, hot chocolate back to Y/n, her taking a sip immediately and humming in content. “I’ll have to put in on my fridge.” He said aloud, though he meant to keep the words to himself, not sure if it was wrong to admit he had grown attached to Y/n enough to want her pictures on his fridge.

“Really?” Her usually playful voice grew serious, her eyes filled with tears. “My drawing?”

“Yeah, Bub.” He smiled, glad she seemed happy over the idea. “I have a few of your drawings on my fridge already.” He admitted. Before he could place it in his bag Y/n was up and out of her seat sliding into Bucky’s booth before wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “Oh.” Bucky lets out a surprised sigh.

“I like you, you nice.” Y/n said as she pulled away, though didn’t leave the booth.

“You’re nice too, Bub.” Bucky said in disbelief. He knew the two of them were making good steps towards fully being comfortable around one another, Y/n seemed to slip further and further into regression, showing she felt safe around Bucky, and she had even asked him if he was the Winter Soldier and hadn't run when he said yes. But he hadn’t expected her to feel comfortable enough to hug him, yet he wasn’t going to argue or complain.

Y/n eyed his bag for a minute or so before asking a question. “Wha’s in your bag?” She asked, this being the first time she had truly seen it.

“I’ll show you what’s in my bag, if you show me what’s in yours?” He offered, having been wondering what she brought with her to the cafe everyday. “Deal?” He asked, and she perked up, agreeing before sliding out and back onto her seat, something Bucky frowned at.

“Otay!” Bub squealed, opening her green backpack before digging around a little bit. The first thing she pulled out was a small zipper pouch, the fabric printed with frogs and plants. “This has m’ keys, an’ my phone.” She pulled both out, her phone being secured in a bag inside her bag making sense as to why it took her so long to find it when her alarm went off. “An’ it has my tic tacs in it! D’ you wan’ one?” She asked with a smile, holding out tropical tic tacs to Bucky.

“I’m okay, but thank you Bub.” He smiled, proud of her manners and willingness to share her things. He knew he couldn't take credit for her good behaviour, or her manners. She was a sweet girl even if he didn’t remind her here and there of her manners, yet he was still extremely proud of her.

“M’kay.” Bub nodded her head, popping a few tic tacs in her mouth before moving on. “Dis, um, dis is my frog.” Bub’s once very confident attitude dulled slightly as she brought the frog stuffie out, like she was waiting for someone to say something rude.

“He’s very cute.” Bucky reassured her, his hand brushing against the stuffed animal's foot, his fur in perfect condition. “What’s his name?”

Y/n still seemed on alert, but opened up a little more. “I call him Green Bean.” She pats his head.

“That’s a perfect name.” Bucky chuckles, loving how creative his Bub is. “Where did you get his outfit?” He asks, referring to the knitted overalls and t-shirt, identical to Y/n’s everyday outfit.

“I made dem!” Bucky was happy to see her peppy spark come back as she spoke about her stuffy. Giving him the rundown on how she made them, and made clothing for all her other stuffies at home. Then she gave him the rundown on a bunny stuffie she really wanted that was identical to the one she has at home. Though “He’s no’ the same Mr! He’s a different colour!” something Bucky quickly made a mental note of.

Bub only had her wallet and a sweater stuffed at the bottom of her bag, and a small bag of long forgotten goldfish that Bucky immediately threw out left to show. “Your turn.” Y/n reminded Bucky, gesturing to his backpack.

“Well.” He started, opening his bag, pulling out his wallet, keys and phone. “These are the things I have on me at all times.” He said, watching Y/n pick up his keys and fiddle with them, clearly loving his accumulated keychain and key combo from the last 100 years. “Then I have a First Aid Kit.” He pulls out a bulky box, a few things banging around inside.

“In case someone ge’s hurt?” Y/n asks, concern dripping from her expressions.

“Exactly.” Bucky answers, though he doesn’t admit that he mainly carries it out of fear that he’ll hurt someone and need to patch them up, but he hopes that Y/n’s just thinking about scrapes and small cuts and not the carnage he’s left behind.

“Do you have princess bandaids?” She asks with all seriousness.

“I have princess ones, paw patrol, and starwars.” He playful one ups her, the two of them laughing before he continues. “Then I have extra crayons, colouring pages, and a couple water bottles.” He pulls out the extra things, Y/n’s hands immediately going to the colouring pages.

“Can I do this one, please?” She asks, bouncing in her seat, her frog underneath her arm.

“Of course, Bub.” He smiles, the frog page she chose the one he printed off last night in the hopes to give it to her.

After the small show and tell the two of them sat together eating their cake pops and drinking their hot chocolate. Everytime he looked up Bucky realised just how lucky he was, to have found a Little who was as chill as Bub was, and as sweet as she was too. He realised that while he wished he could have met her sooner, he was happy he waited.

“Why don’t we go to the park tomorrow?” He asked, thinking it could be good for them to get out somewhere other than just the cafe.

“Yes!” Y/n practically jumped out of her seat at the idea, the two of them chatting about how excited they were for their adventure tomorrow.

#buckys little belle #age regression fic #age regression #little!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x little!reader #bucky barnes x little!reader #bucky #cafe bignsmall #bignsmall #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes age regression #little fic

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ybklix · 6 months ago

Text

favorite crime

♡ pairing: bang chan x fem!character

⮑ intro

⋆cw: none ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

⋆notes: narrated from fem character’s pov. fic based on 2004.

masterlist here

a/n: help, i’m not really sure how that store used to be like since I’m writing it to romanticize the early 2000’s ok

chapters one & two

ONE

word count: 816

Excluding the part about living in an insignificant town and still attending school… it’s not relevant. None of that matters or will matter once I manage to get out of here… and finally become someone else among the millions of people in the city, amidst the hustle and bustle, broken hopes, dreams hanging by a thread, and completely void happiness, just there, I’ll be there. Living, I guess. Breathing in the smoke from some neighbor’s cigarette and questioning if this is my path, since clearly the one I’m on now is not pleasing at all.

I managed to stop my thoughts for a few seconds; my mother was shouting from the bathroom, repeatedly asking me to check on a delivery the courier had just made. It was my last weekend before a new school year, and surprisingly, the weather had remained warm, so I was only wearing comfortable clothes. August had gone by, soon it would be September, and my favorite season would finally begin.

I opened the door to find an ostentatious box with the IKEA logo engraved on it. I had no idea if my mother had ordered some new furniture, so just as I was about to grab it and drag it, I realized the big mistake. The label didn’t bear any familiar name, and in fact, the address indicated the next-door neighbor’s number. Minho Lee, 143. I grimaced, unsure if I should be the one to report the mistake, or just not bother and move the box in front of his door, hoping he’d open it.

Considering, it was strange for this kind of confusion as deliveries like this always went to the reception where they would then call the owner just to make sure if it’s okay to bring it up or leave it right there downstairs.

Minho Lee… I knew they moved into the next-door apartment almost over a month ago, but honestly, I never cared to know who lived around me. I dragged the heavy box a few meters to his door and simply knocked on his door out of impulse, without hope of any response or desire to stay there to give any explanation. But the response was quicker than I thought because, as soon as I knocked, almost instantly, the neighbor appeared, dressed comfortably all in black, in shorts and a sleeveless shirt.

He had a look of confusion on his face. I remained for 3 seconds not knowing what to do until I managed to say:

“This appeared at our door, but I think it’s yours.”

The Asian-looking guy looked even more confused for about two more seconds until he managed to read that my gaze was directed towards the ground, and it wasn’t until he noticed that, his demeanor could relax. He read the name on the label and immediately thanked me.

“Yes, it’s here, thank you.”

I gave a smile with nothing else to say and headed for the doorknob of my door as I watched him out of the corner of my eye bending down to pick up his belongings. And finally, I quickly entered, realizing the ridiculous pajamas I was wearing. I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassed, as if that action could erase how uncomfortable it was for me to realize that I had a considerably attractive neighbor. His aura, his appearance… I wished to study him a little more, but really there was nothing more to say, nothing more than, here’s your box. I bit my lip wondering if I should have spoken and started a conversation with him by saying the typical nonsense like “this mistake had never happened before… the courier must be new, just like you, since when did you move…” But precisely my outfit, relaxed and messy, and my appearance… if only I had a little more luck next time, I wouldn’t think of wasting it like this.

Minho Lee looked young, like a recent college graduate, or maybe someone in their final year. As I climbed the stairs to my room, I thought about how ridiculous it was to start creating more ideas about him. Checking the clock, I smiled realizing it was my working hour and that I could leave this apartment without excuse.

After minutes, I left; grabbing my apartment keys and without saying a word to my mother, as if we didn’t have the great freedom to know or communicate our next whereabouts. Or just any kind of communication. Living with her was strange.

The building’s elevator stopped working two weeks ago and still seems to be under repair, so I hurry down the stairs until I reach the main hall, where surprisingly, I manage to recognize whose broad back was in front of me, also leaving the building, but heading in a different direction.

Part of me felt the need to follow him just out of sheer curiosity, and the fact of feeling excitement studying a new individual was… indescribable. Who is Minho Lee.

TWO

word count: 2k

My whole world sadly revolved around an idiot who never knew how to love me, care for me, and protect me the way I would have wanted. The way a sensible father would care for his only daughter. Or at least that’s what everyone reminds me every year in every damn school; always asking about my father, wondering what his next book would be about… but I can’t even speak out loud about him, sometimes I wish he were a stranger, but I have the greatest fear that… what little I know about him encompasses important concepts of who or how he really is.

I was the only daughter of a well-known artist, the acclaimed writer Henry Waldrop, whose books were such a great success that each of them —almost all of them— were adapted in Hollywood, on the big screens, with actors of the caliber of Nicole Kidman or Brad Pitt, working with promising directors like Mendes and Fincher, winners of important awards, with Henry himself writing his own scripts on a couple of occasions, nothing took him out of Los Angeles. Waldrop has been hailed as the greatest American speaking in the world of literature since Fitzgerald and Hemingway by the Times, countless interviews in the New Yorker, and among other accolades.

He has been called everything; but I will never be able to call him dad again, not since I was 7 years old.

My relationship with him is cold, distant, and almost nonexistent; I always register my name as Calliope Moore, my mother’s last name, hoping not to be recognized in this small town, however, I can’t change it at school, for the moment I can’t change it legally either; so for now, I remain hidden like this. Meanwhile, in a part-time job after school and on weekends.

I was a child who could be considered naive and sweet, at least until I was 6 years old. Then I realized many things, that my father loved fame and excess in meaningless material things more than his family, that his writing is immature and difficult to read, never matured, I never understood why I had to do it before him, unfairly, or worse, do it for him. Despite that, I became my worst enemy, I became an admirer, not of him, but of the artistic world in which he lived; my only memories with him were his huge literary collection, his love for art and cinema; he had me captive every year of my life, I spent hours sitting in his library reading instead of having a conversation with him; I chose something from his extensive collection of movies to watch on DVD. All this on his forced weekends when he legally had to see me. And worst of all, I found refuge in letters… vaguely considering myself a writer; like he is.

I know there’s the silly idea that he really cares about me just because he’s my father, that everything can be fixed if only I would talk to him… but I wish it were that simple, the reason I preferred to be locked in his office was because I saw too many things I should never have seen, situations that a loving and careful father would ensure none of his children know about, I cried seeing women enter his apartment, thinking it wasn’t the kind of love he should give to mother, I didn’t understand why my friends at school could introduce them and I just heard ‘oh, he’s something like a celebrity, he’s just busy. Maybe someday you’ll be like him.’

I sigh and look from afar at the store manager smiling at me, it’s funny to consider he has a little crush on me and I can easily manipulate him. In a matter of seconds, the loud sound of the phone interrupts my daily thoughts about complaining about life.

“Blockbus-”

“Callie, it’s Sarah, can you urgently cover for me for two hours? I have something very important at university.”

I rolled my eyes at being interrupted and at hearing my coworker’s needy voice on the other end of the line, I didn’t need details, but I was surprised by the quick passage of time, so I checked it, she arrived an hour later than agreed and I had no idea.

“All right.”

“Thank you, I owe you one, Cal.”

I slid over the counter, resting my chin on the palm of my hand, bored. Tim, the manager, who is about 8 years older than me, took care of putting on music; I really didn’t have a specific plan for this Saturday, but two more hours of time were just time.

To kill the time, I moved around here and there, sorted movies, checked boxes of new tapes, read each synopsis, sorted each genre, and finally went to tidy up a bit under the main counter; customers came in sporadically and this was the next customer I heard since an hour ago. Tim greeted them with a good evening. I assumed they had to go between the aisles of shelves to pick out their movie or movies to rent, so I didn’t pay attention to them as I continued cleaning up a bit.

Indeed, it took about 10 minutes, when I heard the plastic fall onto the cold wood of the checkout counter and a male voice say, referring to Tim, “Are you checking out over here?”

“No, um, Callie-”

Tim spoke and before he finished his sentence, I hurried to stand up, finding the guy from this morning next to me, Minho Lee. He was still dressed in black, now with jeans, he was wearing bracelets on his left hand now. For a second, I couldn’t say anything, other than meet his gaze, but I immediately regained my composure and gave him a warm smile, but I feared that this time, for him, this client, it was a genuine one.

His gaze was tender for a second as he seemed slightly surprised by the sudden way I unexpectedly ‘sprung’ from the floor; then he softened it and kept eye contact with me.

“I’m here to return these,” he spoke, dragging a stack of 3 movies “and I’ll take these” he pointed to the stack on the right.

My gaze lowered to his hands on the tapes and on the DVDs themselves. I took the products to be returned and inspected each one of them: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Kill Bill, A Tale of Two Sisters. I gave him a smile, clearly judging, at least it was the fun part of the job; seeing what kind of person you were based on your taste in movies. And for Minho… there was no relation, a romantic comedy, Kill Bill, just Kill Bill and… a foreign psychological horror movie, judging by its cover, it seemed to be from Asia. If I weren’t trying to convince myself that someone considerably attractive like him is single, I would say the romantic comedy is something he would watch with some romantic date without a doubt.

“Name?” I raised my eyebrows, feigning disinterest as if I hadn’t seen him a couple of hours ago.

Judging by his look, it was clear that in some way he also recognized me.

“Under the name of Minho Lee, with an H between the N and O” he replied.

This Charming Man by The Smiths started playing and I noticed a slight movement of his fingers on the table to the rhythm of the melody; all while I typed his name into the computer. I was impressed by his profile, apparently, he’s a frequent customer judging by the long list of movies. He even has a membership, wow, I had never seen him here.

“Would you like the standard two-week rental?”

He nodded. I registered the new movies to rent, not without looking at them in detail: a foreign horror movie, Korean-looking, The Wig, Dracula 2, god, I heard the movie was terrible and Scream 2. I guess he wanted to watch only one genre for the moment, no more romantic comedies.

“That will be 33 dollars… 23 with the membership discount.”

“Thank you… Calliope” he read the tag with my name on my blue vest.

The story of my name is a bit funny, my father, a man without emotional responsibility whose heart was always incapable of falling in love, had his philosophy around the Greek mythology of the 9 muses, which is ironic considering the number of lovers he had, and, from what I heard, how much he promised each of the women he got involved with, that they were his muse and inspiration. My name comes from the muse of music, as he met my mother in college and that was her career at the time. My mother’s dream was always to direct orchestras, play the cello at important events in New York… but then I was born.

It would be a nice and moving story if any of my parents appreciated each other, but my mother made sure to make it clear how much she detested him and remind me what she could have done if I had never been born.

During that time, my father was working as an apprentice to a professor and substitute professor at the university. A literary cliché that inspired one of his books, by the way. Each page of the encounters with my mother severely altered, as she exclaimed, that never happened… if only things had been like that… Anyway, the book turned into a movie and considered a classic romance of the nineties. It was funny when someone came to rent it, since for now, I work at the town’s Blockbuster.

Anyway, my father had this immature belief that since I was the one growing in my mother’s womb, I would be the greatest force and source of inspiration for her, a muse. Sometimes I suppose my mother ended up hating me. She had to raise me and support Henry in his dream as a writer. I grew up and live in the same place as him; a wealthy area in northern New York state; where my teachers, absorbed by his work, expected innate talent from me.

But the pressure isn’t always on me. I have an older brother, a half-brother, named Apollo —a bit strange considering that literature says he was married to Calliope or something like that—; who likes to be recognized as Henry Waldrop’s legitimate son, with his gallery in Manhattan; however, he’s nothing more than another pretentious wannabe from the Upper East Side.

After Minho left, I pretended to close his membership and register the returned movies, but I was just snooping around, his birthday, October 25th, he’s 10 years older than me, he really doesn’t seem like it; it must be his Asian genetics I guess. His address, registered in the same building as mine, his email, his phone, and… the record of his rentals.

Not even 10 minutes passed when the sound of the door caught my attention again, Sarah had arrived, I didn’t notice the time so I checked it, she arrived an hour later than agreed and had no idea.

Sarah came in with a smile, dropping her bag on the counter making noise as she arrived.

“I’m here.”

I quickly closed the computer information and let out a jokingly annoyed sigh at her presence.

“Well, there are only two hours left until closing.”

“Three, we close later on Saturdays.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and took off my blue vest, walking to the other side of the counter, ready to grab my things and leave.

“Is this…?” Sarah mentioned, catching my attention.

I turned to look at her and she was holding the returned movies from a few moments ago. I forgot to organize them.

“Oh, let me-”

“Oh no” she interrupted me “Kill Bill and A Tale of Two Sisters, Korean horror? Did the handsome guy already stopped by?”

I frowned.

“He just left” said Tim.

Sarah made a disappointed face.

“I guess he comes often” I said.

“Of course, every Saturday at seven during my shift.”

I stared at her, perplexed.

“He’s definitely coming to see you, Sarah” Tim added, amused.

Sarah just smiled. I let out a reluctant laugh.

“I’m leaving” I announced.

“Wait, Callie, aren’t you going to organize them…” I heard Sarah exclaim just before leaving through the door, but I decided to ignore her.

She can do it alone. Maybe Minho can come back to help her.

#bang chan #bang chan smut #bangchan fanfic #bangchan #bang chan stray kids #skz bang chan #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #skz fanfic #bang chan fic #christopher bang #bang chan fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #ybklix♡₊˚⊹#𐙚wen writes♡₊˚⊹

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seraphinitegames · 9 months ago

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The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 23/Feb/2024

Well, Mason/Morgan decided to co-operate this week, and I managed to get their opening scene finished way quicker than expected too! Thinking about it now, I suppose N’s was more complicated because it has a choice set in it that was super important, but the other LI routes don’t have that choice yet, so it took a bit more working to make sure that was written in smoothly but also worked as an actual game mechanic-type choice.

But M’s was an absolute dream to write! There is a moment in it that has to be the most romantic moment for them yet! It’s a small thing, a simple gesture, but it means a lot because that is M’s way of showing their affection and care. It really made my heart go pitter-patter when writing it and hopefully will for yours too, hehe! :D

After finishing up M’s scene, I moved straight onto the Love Triangle scene. I had a seriously fun moment where I decided that I wanted each choice in this certain choice set to give a different, funny anecdote at what UB (specifically A and N, with it being the love triangle route!) have been up to in the few weeks that have passed.

Coming up with different ideas of what might have happened and why it amused N so much certainly kept me smiling! :D

I’m hoping to get the Love Triangle scene pushed further forward today, then have it finished on Monday. Then I will be actually testing out everything I’ve written so far! This is part of the new editing kind of system thing I’m hoping to bring in. There’s so much variation and branching now, that it’s just going to be impossible to finish a chapter and test the whole thing after it’s fully completed. Too much is going to be missed, so I definitely needed a new way to test and edit as I go.

So, I’m hoping to break up the chapters into chunks that I will test and edit before moving onto the next section of the chapter. Hoping it will be much easier and quicker to catch errors that way! But we’ll see how it goes as I do it, hehe!

I hope you all have the most fantastic weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll update you all again next week <3

#the wayhaven chronicles #interactive fiction #unit bravo #romance #twc detective #update #vampires #choice of games #hosted games #choicescript

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bladeweaver-if · 1 year ago

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Bladeweaver Demo Update (8th Nov 2023)

Please restart your game from the beginning. I have added an additional personality stat which will not be recorded if you continue from a later save. This should be the last time you'll have to do this, apologies! Now on to the post :)

Demo Link

It's been a while!

After a solid few months of writing, I'm happy to announce that another update to Bladeweaver's demo is ready, finishing up Chapter One and beginning Chapter Two - which is a completely different beast compared to Chapter One, with more variation in scenes and two different versions of how things play out, depending on your chosen mentor.

This update also includes a few bugfixes for earlier content that had been pointed out as well as some alterations to earlier scenes and stats. Bladeweaver's very much a beta, so I'm going to be tweaking lines and maybe entire scenes long into development.

If you hated this wait between updates fear not, because the next update or two will come out quicker than this one as I start writing a simpler section of Chapter Two for a while - these will be much smaller than this update, though.

Bladeweaver's wordcount has gone from 29k as of the last update to over 80k total words in this one. That's more than 50,000 words written in the last two months, which I'm pretty happy with as a newcomer to writing IF.

I estimate that Chapter Two is around a third of the way done at this point (though that's liable to change depending on what I choose to write in the future), I expect the chapters to grow in size as the story continues and becomes more complex.

I do hope you enjoy the update and, if you have any feedback, please don't hesitate to send it to me here, on itch or via the Bladeweaver Discord, where we have channels set up for bug reports and things like that: https://discord.gg/bVE5gy6BB8

Anyway, on to the content of the update (spoilers under the cut)

In this update you can:

Discover more about Callen and Sonia's relationship (Chapter One)

Choose your childhood hobby and begin building your character's stats (Chapter One)

Take a glimpse into the past, where a solemn promise is made

Experience another strange dream

Get a look at a slightly older (eight year old) MC's usual day-to-day life, which includes plenty of training and education with their chosen mentor while the other is currently absent. You have plenty of choice regarding how you feel about your education, as well as the ability to begin to choose your stats to build your character's physical and mental proficencies

Further personalize MC's personality and how they act towards people

Learn more about the general world via the new codex, as well as get a view of your character's relationships, personality and statistics (this content is a definitive WIP and will be updated and improved as development continues)

Meet Samuel Alban, or Sam as he prefers to be called, the first of Bladeweaver's 4 ROs! He's a friendly, exuberant boy who loves the outdoors and making new friends. Naturally, you can punch him in the face.

Heed the call of a phantom voice.

#bladeweaver #bladeweaver if #twine game #interactive fiction #if wip #twine if #twine wip #demo update #interactive game #if game #interactive novel #interactive fiction update

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wings-of-ink · 5 months ago

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Hey everyone, I'm still here!

Just thought I'd say hello! I haven't been able to get to asks much lately, but I'll be going through them as I can in the next few days. I've been busy writing the last bits for Chapter 3, which I've redone like twice...and also most of Chapter 4! I also took some me-time to read for fun and to relax because I literally threw my back out by stretching... -_-

I have decided to, yet again, break up the chapter. This way, chapter 4 gets to you quicker, and each of the main ROs sort of gets their own chapter where they're introduced! There's a good chunk of chapter 4 that is just "stuff happening," so it ended up being pretty long (at least I feel it is). I'm about to a point where the path the MC takes can split slightly, and it makes for a good spot to leave off and begin chapter 5.

I think that's all for now! Hope you all are doing well! ^_^

#god cursed if #mini status report

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runariya · 3 months ago

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My Beloved Villain (JJK) • Chapter 4

pairing: hero!Jungkook x villain!female reader genre: dark romance, gore, villain!AU, hero!AU, slow burn fic rating: MDNI, 18+ warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, fluff, inner conflicts between good and bad, thoughts about murder, lies, date night, fluff, Jungkook is a hopeless romantic (let me live, I can't write him any other way), detailed description of assass!nation and fighting, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 7.3K

a/n: not edited - sorry 🥺

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to med school are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

prologue • 01 • 02 • 03 • masterlist • 05

Like morning dew burning off beneath the warmth of the sun, the anticipation for your upcoming date with Jungkook became a soothing balm, easing the sting of your failed plans as they fade into insignificance. The thought of it has been with you all day yesterday, lurking at the corners of your mind, filling you with an unfamiliar, innocent lightness. There is something about the idea of being with him—outside of your daily routines, in a space where you can allow yourself to relax, just for a moment—that makes everything else seem distant and irrelevant.

And as the hours of the day passed in a series of shared classes, the world shrunk to just the two of you, a comfortable rhythm that left you both physically drained but somehow still energised by the sheer presence of one another. His attentiveness, the way he slid a snack bar onto your desk just when your energy had begun to wane in the afternoon, made you feel like a simple girl worth of care. And though you don’t often let yourself indulge in such sweet feelings, you couldn’t help but hope that you’ll find a way to return his kindness tenfold.

Now, in your very first class of the next day, you sit side by side in the lecture hall, fingers quietly tapping at your laptops as you take notes on the professor’s monotonous ramblings. It’s the same droning voice you’ve been subjected to since the class started an hour ago, and the coffee that once kept you alert is losing its grip quicker than you hoped it will, leaving you teetering on the edge of exhaustion and resignation before the day even started. Every word of his feels like it's passing through a fog, and you find yourself struggling to focus as the professor drones on and on and on.

It’s only when an incoming email notification pops up in the lower-right corner of your screen, and, almost in perfect synchronicity, you notice the same alert flash on Jungkook’s laptop beside you, that the fog barely lifts. The click of typing halts as you and Jungkook pause, exchanging brief glances with raised eyebrows before turning your attention back to the notification.

The subject line catches your attention first, sent from the university’s secretariat. The body of the email, however, is harder to grasp in its entirety, your eyes skimming the opening lines, as you catch only fragments—words like visit, top-students, and mayor. A deep sense of unease begins to build in your chest, even before the loud rap of knuckles against the lecture hall door interrupts the class.

Instinctively, you look up as the door creaks open, revealing the dean standing in the entranceway. His gaze sweeps over the room, disinterested in most of the students until it lands on you and Jungkook. His face splits into a smile so fake it looks like it was sculpted by hand, each muscle strained into place where you know they’ve never been there before. He exchanges a few words with the professor—empty pleasantries at best—before addressing the room in a louder voice.

“Jungkook, Y/N,” he calls over all the heads sitting in front of you, “you’re dismissed for the rest of the day. Please, follow me immediately.”

The wild noise of your inner darkness roars to life, a deafness that fills your ears and clouds your senses. The discomfort ripples through your body, tightening your grip on your laptop, but you can’t focus on anything other than the way your heartbeat has quickened. You don’t trust this sudden summons, don’t trust in you not having the control. Not at all.

“Come on, let’s go,” Jungkook whispers, nudging you lightly with his elbow as he begins to pack up his things. His smile is small but proud, as though this is a reward, a recognition of his hard work.

You follow him on autopilot, closing your laptop with a dull *thud* that echoes across the silent lecture hall. You barely notice the eyes on you as you both rise from your seats, barely register the beginning of curious murmurs or the professor’s lackluster attempt to regain control of the room. The only thing that barely grounds you is the presence of Jungkook beside you, his excitement not affecting you in the slightest.

When you step outside, you’re met by your friends, the rest of the group classified as “top students”. Yoongi and Jennie stand with bored indifference, neither seeming particularly interested in the sudden shift in the day’s events. Hoseok, on the other hand, mirrors Jungkook’s enthusiasm, his smile wide and full of good-natured anticipation. But it’s Taehyung who catches your eyes. He throws you a glance—concerned, questioning if you’re okay—but you shake your head subtly, silently willing him to stay calm. Whatever is happening, you’ll figure it out soon enough.

The dean doesn’t give you much time to think, as he’s already moving, expecting you all to follow like obedient ducklings. “Mayor Park will be arriving in half an hour,” he explains hurriedly, his voice clipped with stress. It’s only now that you notice the small sweat beads on his temple and neck, his white dress shirt turning translucent under his arms. “The press will be here as well, so be prepared for a spectacle. Mayor Park is here to meet you all, give some motivational speech, and for the usual PR. It’s crucial that you present yourselves well. You’ll be representing the university, so do not embarrass us! Go grab your lab coats and make yourselves look respectable. We’ll meet back at the main building in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes, you hear me—no later!”

“Yes, Dean Yoon,” comes the collective response, though it’s more out of habit than genuine respect.

As the dean disappears down the hallway, the group begins heading towards the autopsy building to retrieve your lab coats. There’s some tension hanging over the group, though everyone seems to handle it differently.

“This is such a waste of time,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walks beside you. “Like any of us care about some politician showing up to stroke his own ego.”

Jennie chuckles softly, flicking her hair over her shoulder, grazing your face as she walks before you. “It’s all for show. He doesn’t care about us either. We’re just props to make him look good in front of the press.”

“Props in lab coats,” Hoseok adds with a laugh. “But hey, free publicity, right?”

Jungkook is still smiling, his steps lighter than usual as he walks beside you as well. “I think it’s kinda cool. It’s not every day you get to meet Mayor Park, right? Maybe it’ll be fun.”

Yoongi gives him a pointed side-eye but doesn’t argue. Jennie just shrugs, her expression one of mild amusement as she looks over her shoulder, while Hoseok just grins, clearly not as bothered by the situation as Yoongi is. Taehyung, however, remains quiet, his usual playfulness subdued as he walks close behind you. You can feel his concern on your back, even though he says nothing, which you’re grateful for.

The enthusiastic conversation between Hoseok and Jungkook resumes all the way to the lab and while retreating your coats, but you stay quiet, lost in your own thoughts as you make your way to the autopsy building. The upcoming meeting with the mayor sits truly and utterly wrong with you, it disturbs your mind and peace, an unease that you can’t shake, making you restless, jumpy even. You hate not having control, especially when he’s involved, but you try to focus on the present, on the normalcy of walking with your friends, and preparing for nothing other than yet another tedious formality in your academic life. But it’s hard, the discomfort remains and clings to you like fluff to an old sweater.

The others still continue their conversation, Hoseok teasing Jungkook about his excitement, while Yoongi mutters something sarcastic about politics, but still, you just can’t seem to pay attention as the words fly over your head, your mind too preoccupied with the ominous feeling that’s been growing inside you since the dean’s arrival.

The walk back to the main building feels longer than it should, each step weighted down by the knowledge of what’s, or rather who’s waiting for you. As you near the entrance, the sight of the press setting up their cameras and microphones inside only heightens your unease. The dean is already there, waiting for you with a forced smile plastered on his face, his eyes darting between the clock and the approaching figure of Mayor Park’s entourage.

You all line up in a neat row inside the grand lobby of the main building, the sterile scent of freshly cleaned floors filling your senses, while the cameras are being prepped before you. The silence among you as you stand there doesn’t do much to make your thoughts clearer, every train of thought again and again broken off by the occasional shuffle of feet or the rustling of lab coats as you adjust yourselves into position. The others stand with varying degrees of interest and boredom, but you can’t seem to focus on yourself, can’t shake the consuming tension that’s been knotting tighter in your intestines since this fuss began.

Just as you get your breathing to even out, the grand doors swing open, and Mayor Park enters with a flourish, his well-tailored suit pristine under the lobby lights. He walks with a politician’s disgustingly practiced grace, his smile wide and calculated for the cameras now running. But your focus isn’t on the cameras. No—your gaze locks onto the three figures walking your way, your inner demon waking as if never slept to begin with.

The darkness spreads within you in milliseconds, making your skin prickle as your focus settles into one of a sniper. You’re eyes lock on Sangwook, his presence reminding you bitterly of the night you almost had part of your revenge, the night Pulse interrupted, the reason you’re still fighting this war at its beginning, still caught at the beginning of the shadows, still haunted by unfinished business. You can feel the darkness rising even more within you, clawing at your insides, hungry, restless like you’ve been the past half an hour.

But you force it down. Not here. Not now. Not with Jungkook standing beside you, not with your friends all around you, and certainly not with the press before you, cameras poised to capture every moment of this charade. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you bite back the urge to confront the devil and his companions. This isn’t the time for vengeance. You have to regain and stay in control. You have to keep up the act.

As Mayor Park steps forward to greet each of you in turn, offering hollow words of encouragement and praise, you school your expression into something neutral, something polite. But inside, the storm rages on, a battle between the light you’ve been trying so desperately to embrace and the darkness that has been your constant companion for so long. And when it’s your turn to shake Mayor Park’s hand, you can feel everyone's eyes on you, as if watching, waiting.

His hand lingers before you, PR-smile still fixed on his face, but his eyes—they are as empty as they were on that fateful night, void of anything possibly human. For a moment, you consider leaving him there, hand outstretched and waiting, watching the false warmth fade from his expression. But against your instincts, against your demon raging inside you, you reach out.

You clasp his hand strongly, calculating your movement, as your grip tightens deliberately around the base of his hand. And when for a millisecond his eyes flicker down to where your hands are joined, you know you’ve pressed the Ulnar nerve just right, sending sharp jolts of pain shooting through his pinky and ring finger, showing him that you did not break, that you rose from the ashes of the very flame he set to your family.

“It’s good to finally meet after all these years,” he says, his voice dripping with saccharine mockery. “Your father was such a loyal employee.”

The words, the false description of your father’s job, are poison, seeping into your veins, igniting the fury into a massive fireball that explodes under your skin. Loyal. A word meant to twist the knife deeper. You hold your smile, hollow and cold, a ghost of something real. Jungkook stands beside you, his confusion barely concealed as his gaze shifts between you, the mayor, and the tension between your clasped hands.

Dojin leans closer, tightening his grip, voice dropping to a near whisper as his disgusting perfume engulfs you. “You know, you look just like your mother. Truly angelic.”

Something inside you snaps. But the smile on your lips only widens, growing more hollow, more sinister. The words slither through your clenched teeth. “Funny, isn't it? It almost sounds like you’re seeking absolution in my resemblance to her. How quaint.” Your voice is laced with venom so sweet it almost passes as kindness.

For the briefest of moments, his smile falters, and beneath it, the rage—the same rage that lit up his eyes all those years ago—flares up, hot and visceral. But he masks it quickly, releasing your hand, and turns away to spout his lies to the press, painting the air with rehearsed phrases that drip with insincerity.

Jungkook leans in then, his voice soft but still filled with honest concern. "What was that?" His words are gentle, but his eyes are searching, trying to piece together the puzzle of your interaction.

You tilt your head slowly towards him, the smile still lingering on your lips, twisted and lunatic. “Just what it looked like,” you murmur, offering no more. The truth is buried too deep, and even if you tried, you know he wouldn’t understand the whole expanse of it all without disclosing everything. Sensing the wall you’ve built, or realising for the first time that there is one, Jungkook says nothing more, though you feel his eyes linger on you.

As the circus of an event winds down, the room empties, leaving behind nothing but the fading echoes of empty speeches. You drift with your friends towards the door, slipping back into the flow of meaningless chatter, though your mind remains miles away. Right before you step outside, you catch a fragment of the faint conversation of Dojin and his bodyguards, but it’s Jungkook who draws you back, his body shifting into your line of sight, blocking your view of the men who ruined you.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you ask, your voice distant, as if you’ve just returned from some far-off place.

Jungkook repeats himself, his tone gentle, patient. “I was asking if you’re okay.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you reply, the lie slipping easily off your tongue, though your mind screams otherwise. 'Save me,' you think, but Jungkook doesn’t hear what you cannot say, and instead, he watches you again for a beat longer, blinking in his concern. But eventually, he lets it go, leaving the darkness surrounding your mind in peace.

Standing before your closet, your fingers linger over hangers as you wrestle with a rising panic. The wardrobe, once a reliable collection of your well maintained comfort, now seems to mock you with its lack of options. It feels absurd, really—the way you’ve spent nearly an hour staring at clothes that have never failed you before. But this time, the stakes are higher. This isn’t just another day, another class, or another mindless hangout with friends. This is a date with Jungkook, and not just any date—your first real date. The thought sends your mind spinning in circles, reexamining every outfit with a critical eye that never seems satisfied.

You keep telling yourself you’re overthinking it, and maybe you are, but as the minutes slip by, your nerves cling tighter around your brain. A decision must be made, and eventually, as time conspires against you as well and forcing your hand to make a forsaken choice, you settle on something that has always made you feel like the best version of yourself—simple yet chic. The outfit flatters your silhouette just enough to remind you that beauty can be effortless when it’s honest, so you pull it on, check yourself in the mirror, and despite the chaos in your head, you can’t help but feel a spark of confidence. You might have just overthought your way into something that actually works—yey!

Makeup follows, the ritual of it calming your frayed nerves, brushstrokes turning anxious energy into something delicate and intentional. By the time you’re done, you hardly recognise the reflection staring back at you, though you’re not sure if that’s because of the makeup or the sight of yourself as you once were.

A knock at your door pulls you from your thoughts, and you take a deep breath, smoothing your outfit one last time before going to open the door. But when you pull it open, you’re not met with Jungkook's familiar face, not at first. Instead, an enormous bouquet of white hydrangeas and roses takes up most of the doorway, its sheer size almost comical in its grandeur.

Jungkook is barely visible behind it, but he leans to the side, a soft, tentative smile on his face, his eyes gleaming with a brightness that catches your breath so painfully good, you have to suppress a choke. You’ve seen him look at you countless times, but this time, there’s something different in his gaze—something that makes the air between you crackle with emotions never spoken of.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice light, almost playful.

Your face splits into a wide grin, the sight of him nearly lost behind the monstrous bouquet sending a ripple of giggles through you. “Kook, you really didn’t have to.” But even as you say it, you know how much it means. He always knows how to surprise you, how to make you feel cherished in ways that words sometimes fail to capture.

His smile softens, eyes sparkling as he steps forward, handing you the bouquet which you barely can engulf. “I wanted to,” he says simply, and there’s an earnestness in his voice that makes your heart beat just a little bit stronger. “You deserve the world and more.”

You stare at the flowers, your heart swelling as a few tears threaten to blur your vision. “I… I’m speechless, Kook. This is…” you laugh, your voice shaking just enough to betray the emotion within you. “But why this size? That’s so expensive!”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he watches you cradle the bouquet in your short arms. “I’ve seen you scrolling through Pinterest enough times to know what you like,” he teases.

The flush that creeps up your neck feels like a deep red now, your face burning as you attempt to play it off. You turn towards the kitchen, the flowers still balanced poorly in your arms. “I’m going to need a bigger vase for these,” you joke, though you’re already searching for a bucket, anything large enough to hold them.

Jungkook follows behind, his presence filling the small space of the dorm with warmth you didn’t know was missing. As you find a suitable bucket and begin filling it with water, you steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye. His cheeks are flushed now, too, but it’s the way his eyes never stray from you that makes your heart flip. There’s something different about him tonight. He’s always been kind, always attentive, but now it feels like every glance carries weight, like there’s a depth to his affection that wasn’t there before, or maybe you just never noticed it as clearly until now.

And it’s true—you’ve had a fondness for oversized bouquets ever since that one evening, deep into Dojin’s election campaign, when your father came home later than promised. He had been swept up in the political race and, in the chaos, forgot to call ahead. Your mother, of course, wasn’t angry. She knew him well enough to recognise that his silence wasn’t intentional. Still, despite his exhaustion, your father returned the night after with a massive bouquet, much like the one Jungkook had just given you, though your father’s was overflowing with red roses.

“Here, let me help.” Jungkook steps up behind you, effortlessly lifting the now full bucket from the sink as though it weighs nothing. “Where should I put it?”

“My room,” you answer softly, already reaching for some wrapping paper to wrap around the bucket’s base. “I need to dress this up. I don’t want to ruin the aesthetic.”

Jungkook follows you to your room, heaving the bucket and flowers onto your desk while you immediately start wrapping around it. He spins lazily in your desk chair, making you giggle despite the nerves that still flutter within you. As you carefully tie a ribbon around the makeshift vase, your voice, hesitant and quiet, resonates through the silence and small space between you.

“So… why hydrangeas and roses?” you ask, casting a glance at him, curious to hear his reasoning.

Jungkook stops swirling, his feet grounding him as his cheeks flush with again with faint colour. “Ah, well… they reminded me of you,” he admits, his voice growing quieter with each word while his hands run up and down his thighs. “I mean, their meanings reminded me of you.”

Your fingers still against the ribbon as you turn to face him more fully, the question evident in your gaze. “Their meanings?” you repeat softly, not sure what to make of his answer.

Jungkook doesn’t look down, still his shyness intensifies. “White hydrangeas symbolise grace… and heartfelt emotions,” he murmurs, his voice cracking slightly. “And white roses… they represent purity, innocence… and new beginnings.”

You think you might faint at his words, your innocent self celebrating deep within you at the thought of a new beginning. Could this—what’s happening between you and Jungkook—be more than just a first date? Could it be the start of something new, something untouched by the darkness that has followed you for so long? You’ve spent so much time buried under the burden of your past, so much time chasing shadows and vengeance, that the idea of starting fresh feels almost foreign and too soon. But with Jungkook… maybe, just maybe, you could find a new way forward.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion as you reach for him. Jungkook takes your hand without hesitation, his thumb tracing gentle patterns over your knuckles. His eyes never leave yours, and in their depths, you find something you never thought you’d feel again—hope.

“Let’s go,” Jungkook says quietly, pulling himself to his feet, his fingers still entwined with yours as you leave your dorm and walk off into the early night.

The restaurant Jungkook has chosen is familiar, a cozy little Italian place you’ve visited before with your friend group. But tonight, it feels different from all the times spent here. There’s a quiet intimacy to the way the lights cast an amber glow over the tables, and the soft strains of music seem to weave around the two of you, creating a cocoon that shields you from the rest of the world and everything that haunts you.

Jungkook pulls out your chair for you, a small gesture that makes your heart explode into confetti, making you fall for him deeper and deeper. His kindness isn’t new, but tonight, it feels magnified, every little thing he does carrying more weight than usual. As you both settle in, you can’t help but feel the shift in the air between you—the way it softly hums with something more than just friendship, something deeper and sweeter.

“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Jungkook begins as he picks up the menu, his eyes scanning the options but his attention clearly divided. “About how… you don’t always feel like you deserve nice things.”

You freeze for a moment, the words catching you off guard. You weren’t expecting him to bring it up again, especially not tonight. You’d mentioned it just this once, offhandedly, in a situation that felt light at the time, but apparently, Jungkook hadn’t forgotten.

“I just… I want you to know that you do,” he continues, his voice settling around you like a warm blanket. “You deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

You smile, though it’s small, tentative, as you look down at the menu in your hands. It’s not easy to accept his words, not with the weight of your past still clinging to you like tar, but his sincerity makes it harder to dismiss them outright. He means what he’s saying—he truly believes you deserve more than the shadows you’ve been living in.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice quiet as you meet his loving gaze.

Jungkook nods, smile widening as he reaches across the table to take your hand. His touch is warm, grounding you in a way that makes you feel more present, more here. You’re not sure when you started feeling this way about him—when his presence became something that could chase away the darkness. But sitting here with him now, with his hand in yours, it feels like maybe this was meant to be all along.

The conversation flows easily after that, the two of you slipping into the familiar rhythm you’ve always shared, but there’s something new underneath it all, a current of something stronger, something that feels a little like the beginning of love. It’s in the way he smiles at you when you laugh, the way his fingers linger against yours when he hands you the bread basket, the way his eyes soften into puddles of shining stars when you catch him staring at you across the table.

"It does feel different, doesn’t it?" you ask, fingers playing with the edge of your napkin.

"Yeah," he says, leaning forward slightly. "But good different."

You nod, letting your gaze fall to the candle flickering between you. "It does. We’ve been here so many times. But it—" You pause, smiling softly. "It feels special tonight."

Jungkook grins, cheeks flushed as he glances at the menu. "So, tell me something I don’t know about you."

You bite your lip, thinking. "Well, my childhood was... complicated." You choose your words carefully, keeping the truth buried beneath layers of vague recollections. "My parents, they passed away when I was a teen."

He looks up from the menu, his expression gentle. "I read about that fire. I didn’t want to bring it up... I’m really sorry."

You offer him a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "It’s okay. My mom was cooking dinner that night... things just went wrong." The words are light, brushed off like the remnants of a distant memory. You’re careful not to let him see the truth that festers beneath.

He nods slowly, his gaze searching yours. "And after... you lived with Taehyung?"

"Yes," you say, exhaling a soft breath. "His family took me in. We’ve been close ever since childhood." You lift your glass, taking a small sip before continuing. "And now... here I am, med school and all."

Jungkook chuckles lightly. "You're amazing, you know that? Everything you've been through... and you're still standing strong."

You meet his eyes, feeling a warmth spread through you, something fragile but blooming despite the faul soil. "Thank you. How about you?"

“My childhood? It was… pretty normal, I guess. My parents were always around, super protective. Especially my mom. She used to hover a lot,” he says with a soft laugh, a warm, nostalgic smile spreading across his face. “She’d always pack me lunch, even in high school. And not just a sandwich or something small. I’m talking full-on bento boxes, with little designs in the food. It was kind of embarrassing back then, but now I look back and miss it, you know?”

“Oh, I can tell, you’re still eating like a bottomless pit.” You joke, knowing he likes it when you’re this playful.

He glances at you then, you expect him to laugh with you, but his smile is dimming a little as he continues. “My dad… he was strict, but he just wanted the best for me. Pushed me hard, made sure I always had something to work towards. But… I was a bit of a handful,” he admits with a grin. “I think I drove them crazy sometimes, always running around, never sitting still. My older brother had it together, but me? I just wanted to do everything at once.”

“That’s totally normal, Kook, don’t beat yourself up for this.” You reach for his hand, cradling it to soothe any doubt he has in himself.

His gaze softens as he shrugs, almost shy. “They gave me a lot, though. Support, love… I was really lucky.” He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking up to meet yours after staring at your joint hands. “But I didn’t always appreciate it back then. You know how it is when you’re young… you don’t really see everything they do for you until you’re older.”

“Yeah.” You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to stir the conversation away from this heavy topic. You appreciate his honesty, you really do, but it’s the bitter taste of you holding back the truth, that blocks your thoughts from forming.

Thankfully, Jungkook leans back in his chair, his expression softening as he studies you. "So, what do you like? I mean, aside from making everyone in class jealous with your grades?"

You laugh, a genuine sound that cuts through your mind’s fog. "I like simple things, really. Music, books, late-night walks... And you?"

"I’m pretty much the same. Music, of course... and working out, boxing. But I’m guessing you already know that," he adds with a sheepish grin. "It helps me clear my mind, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that," you reply, nodding. "Sometimes, you need something to take the edge off. For me, it’s those cute kitten videos."

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow. "I didn’t know that."

You shrug. "Well, now you do."

He smiles, a tender smile that makes you want to capture it like a polaroid. "I like learning things about you."

You return his smile without a beat, your heart light and singing as you say "And I like sharing them with you." And the conversation doesn’t seem to crease after that.

By the time the meal is over, you’re both lingering in your seats, reluctant to let the night end. You know you’ll have to return to your dorm eventually, but for now, you’re content to stay in this moment a little longer, to savour the warmth that fills the space between you.

As Jungkook walks you back to your dorm, the night cool against your flushed skin, you can’t help but feel a sense of contentment settle over you. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this way—since you’ve allowed yourself to feel this way. And as you reach your door, turning to face him, you realise that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something good.

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence swirls around you, but it’s not uncomfortable, filled with all the things you want to say but don’t quite know how to express. He steps closer, his hand finding yours once again, and for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. But instead, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, the gesture so sweet, so tender, that it makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

“Goodnight, ___,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“Goodnight,” you reply softly, your voice barely more than a breath.

As you watch him take a step back, your heart feels light, full in a way it hasn’t been in years. There’s still so much you don’t know—so much uncertainty about what the future holds—but for the first time in a long time, you feel hopeful. Maybe this is just the beginning, but it feels like a good one.

As Jungkook walks away backwards, still smiling at you, still reluctant to let the night end, something shifts within you, and it’s like the light that forced your brightness within you to shine in its full force, dims with every step he takes, taking it and all the warmth with him as if it always was his to begin with. The smile on your face turns brittle, plastic, and a hollow sensation settles in your chest. Behind the mask of sweetness and light that you’ve worn for the evening, the impatience of the demon within you grows, gnawing forcefully at the edges of your control. The demon magnifies, stretching and clawing, until all remnants of joy and happiness dissolve into the endless void aching for revenge.

You step inside your dorm, and as the door clicks shut, the smile falls from your lips like a discarded veil at a wedding. You waste no time, and strip off the clothes that made you feel beautiful just moments ago and replace them with the black gear you’ve come to associate with your truth and fate.

Something inside you flips, like a switch toggled into place, and just like that, you’re gone—no longer the person who had been with Jungkook at dinner, no longer the person who basked in his warmth. You’re someone else now. Someone darker. Someone deadly. There’s no joy left. No happiness. Only a singular, burning purpose that consumes everything else. The void inside you aches for release, for the satisfaction of revenge, and it’s all you can feel now.

You begin to prepare methodically, stretching your muscles and joints, warming your body for what the night demands from you. You remember the conversation you overheard between Dojin and his stupid bodyguards—Chulsoo will be alone tonight. The thought lingers. You wanted to start with Sangwook, to make him the first, but maybe fate is offering you a different path. Maybe this is a sign that Chulsoo, taller and stronger though he may be, is meant to go first. It doesn’t matter in the end; they will all fall. Every last one of them.

You slip out of your dorm and move through the neighbourhood, undetected, a shadow among shadows. It’s a path you know well, the routine of it bringing you a twisted kind of joy. The city’s pulse begins to pick up as you near the bustling nightlife, where buildings stretch higher into the sky and people crowd the streets, oblivious to the darkness lurking in their midst. You stick to the alleyways, your steps light, your movements fluid, until you reach the first landmark—an alley beside a Chinese restaurant.

You pull yourself up onto the trash bins outside, the narrowness of the space making it easier to scale the walls like you’ve done countless times before. From there, it’s a series of practiced motions—small leaps from one rooftop to the next, each building taller than the last as you make your way toward your destination.

At last, you arrive at the balcony of Chulsoo’s office, your landing soft and graceful, almost feline in its silence. The city buzzes far below, but up here on this skyscraper, it’s eerily quiet. The office is dark except for the dim night lighting of the building, casting long shadows across the room as if painted with charcoal. You glance around to make sure no one is near, your senses tuned to the slightest disturbance. The night is lonely, just as you’d hoped.

You slip behind one of the balcony posts, peering inside through the glass. The office’s low lighting is enough to spot what you came for. There, seated at Dojin’s desk, is Chulsoo. He’s lounging in the chair with his feet propped up on the desk, watching a football game on his phone. The back of him faces you, his attention completely absorbed in the small screen.

You test the sliding door’s lock silently, and to your satisfaction, it moves without resistance. Unlocked. Another careless mistake on his part, another beautiful wrapped gift to you. The door opens just enough for you to slip inside, the noise of the city creeping in faintly, but he doesn’t hear it. He’s wearing earphones—his second mistake. It feels like luck is on your side tonight, but you know better than to trust in fortune. You’ve come too far for that.

The demon inside you snarls in anticipation, laughing menacingly as you creep up behind Chulsoo. You catch your reflection in the darkened screen of Dojin’s computer—the mask you wear, its smile wide and empty, mirroring the cold emptiness and lunacy within you. Childhood remains oblivious, lost in the game playing on his phone, unaware of the storm about to descend upon him.

In one swift motion, you lock your arms around his throat, pulling him into a headlock. His phone slips from his hand, clattering to the floor with a broken screen. His body reacts instinctively, muscles straining against yours as he thrashes. But it’s his feet—still propped on the desk—that give him the leverage he needs. With a powerful push, he throws himself backward, sending both of you tumbling to the ground. You hit the floor hard, the weight of his body crashing into yours, pinning your legs awkwardly beneath the chair.

But you only grit your teeth against it, refusing to let it slow you down. Chulsoo wrestles to free himself from your grip, and you dig your elbow into his front, trying to regain the upper hand. He’s taller than you, stronger, and he uses his size to his advantage, rolling over in your hold to straddle you, his hands finding your throat in an instant. You twist beneath him, trying to slip free, your body burning with the effort as your vision starts to blur.

You manage to kick the chair out from between you, throwing his balance off just enough to create an opening. In a flash, you’re on your feet again, lunging for him. The fight spills out of the office, your bodies colliding with walls and furniture as you grapple for control. Everything happening all at once—punches and kicks, blocks and dodges, the sound of grunts and gasps echoing through the empty office space. Chulsoo grabs a heavy glass ashtray from the desk, swinging it wildly at your head. You duck just in time, the ashtray shattering against the wall behind you.

He’s relentless, coming at you with the kind of brute force that could only come from someone used to winning fights by sheer size and strength alone. But you’re quicker, more agile. Every time he lands a blow, you counter it with something sharper, something faster. The office transforms into a battlefield, chaos reigning as desks are overturned, chairs sent crashing to the floor, papers swirling in the air like torn shreds of white flags that will never be surrendered. The metallic tang of blood fills your mouth where one of his punches grazed your lip, but you taste it with satisfaction, the pain fuelling your determination even further.

Chulsoo grabs you by the collar, throwing you towards the door that leads to the staircase. You crash into it with a heavy thud, the impact sending the door flying open, while feeling your joints blocking through your back and ribs. A low “Uff” escapes your lips as you hit the railing behind you, the cold metal biting into your spine. But there’s no time to catch your breath—Chulsoo charges at you, full force, his eyes wild with the intent to finish you off.

At the last second, you spin out of his path, and he crashes into the railing with a sickening thud. He staggers, dazed, and you seize the opportunity, wrapping your arm around his throat from behind yet again, pulling him into another chokehold. You tighten your grip, feeling the demon within you thrashing against the cage of your control, hungry for the kill. You could end him right here, with your bare hands. It would be easy. It would be satisfying. But something goes wrong.

Chulsoo’s foot slips against the slick floor, his balance faltering. Before you can tighten your hold, he stumbles backward, his body teetering dangerously over the edge of the railing. His eyes widen in panic as he tries to grab hold of something, anything, to stop his fall. But there’s nothing to hold onto.

With a final scream, he tips over the railing, his body plummeting into the abyss below. The sound of his fall echoes through the stairwell, punctuated by the sickening thud of his body hitting the railings on the way down. You watch, frozen, as his limp form finally crashes to the ground below, a twisted heap of flesh, bone and blood.

This isn’t how you wanted it to end.

The rage that fills you is immediate and scorching. The demon inside you roars, seething with frustration, its hunger again left unsatisfied. This was supposed to be precise, fucking controlled. You were supposed to kill him with your own hands, not let him fall like some clumsy idiot. This… this is unsatisfying to all end. Again.

You grip the cold metal of the railing with white-knuckled fury, your mind spinning with barely contained rage that courses through your veins. Every inch of you aches for release, for some way to expel the unforgiving heat that burns beneath your skin. But there’s no outlet. There’s only the hollow victory of Chulsoo’s broken body far below.

The door behind you creaks open, and you feel him before you even turn around.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to school your expression. When you finally turn, your face masks, twisted into a smile that never reaches your eyes—a smile that could only belong to someone who no longer cares.

Pulse stands there, his eyes wide with shock as he surveys the scene. He knows immediately that he’s too late. His shoulders slump, the weight of his failure settling over him like a shroud. You can see the realisation dawning in his eyes—he’s failed to stop you this time.

Without a care, you walk towards him, your steps slow and. Graceful where no grace is found. He watches you approach, his gaze searching for something—an explanation, perhaps, or a hint of remorse. But there’s nothing for him to find. You’re empty. The void inside you yawns wider.

As you pass him, you glance up at him with that same twisted smile, teeth painted in your own blood and murmur, “You’re too late, Dulls. Try harder next time, yeah?” You give his chest a light pat, a condescending gesture that only deepens the devastation in his eyes.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t react. He just watches you disappear into the night, unsatisfied and unseen as you came, leaving nothing behind but the wreckage of your vengeance.

prologue • 01 • 02 • 03 • masterlist • 05

a/n 3: hope you've enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like! And to spice things up even more, we'll do a little game through the story:

a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

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