#ill work it out for the next graphics i do

[blu3-ja3]

Did I plan to write a feral/murderous O'Connor and how she nearly breaks completely... No! Not at all. But the idea of watching my most stable character slowly breaking is interesting to me so enjoy! This will in first person pov not the usual third person limited that I tend to rock. Enjoy!

!TRIGGER WARNING! Graphic Depictions of Torture and Murder, Psychological Break, Guns, Forceful Drug Use, Sleep Deprivation, Starvation, Sexual Harassment, Severe Disassociation

I'm telling y'all this dark. I don't know what's wormed it's way into my brain but it's not leaving till I have this out. Should I probably not post this? Yes! Am I going to anyways also yes!

🕊️!DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!🕊️

Day 1: It's to be a simple week-long mission, my team and I are going into Urzikstan to render aid to civilians. Laswell made it abundantly clear this was just to help where we could, if there's combat we are not to interfere. Farah assured Laswell nothing has occurred and that this is purely to assist with the aftermath. So none of the other 141 came with me. I was a little worried for them as they're being sent on a few low intensity missions also, but I've always enjoyed working with civilians so I took the mission and calmed myself. I'm currently sitting in the large red cross tent updating Price and Laswell. Today was mostly for setting up and preparing nothing too intense.

Day 2: It's been busy, there's plenty of work for me and my team to do. Everything from simple injuries like scratches and to complex burns and stitches. We're mostly treating infections and illnesses but it's been nice talking with the locals and learning of their rebuilding efforts. Alex and Farah help with translation and organization, keeping everything flowing nicely. It's been exhausting but fulfilling, I try to give Laswell an update but I can't seem to get through so I'll try again tomorrow. Probably have to get closer to a long ranged receiver but that's a tomorrow problem.

Day 3: A young man came to my tent asking if I could do a house call, his grandfather was very sick and in no shape to travel. I agree to help before informing my lieutenant of where I'll be and to radio me if something urgent needs my attention. He's a fast kid but I keep pace well enough, my basic medical bag is with me along with my pistol; visible at my side, and my knife; hidden within my clothing. We arrive at a small metal shack with no windows and a small door.

The young man enters before me, holding the door open and waving me in. I have to duck to get through the door. I spotted the old man instantly, he's laying with his back towards us so I can't get a good look at him just yet. I move over to the laying figure and sit on my knees next to him, placing my aid bag down to my right.

I hear rapid shuffling as something hard is pressed to the back of my head. I know that feeling anywhere, this isn't my first time being robbed while on call. Closing my eyes, taking a deep breath and raising my hands slowly. When I open my eyes again the figure in front of me rolls over holding a rifle, it's hard for me to make out in the dim lighting.

"There's only mild pain relievers in my bag, I don't carry anything stronger when on a house call." I try to keep my voice calm and even as the barrel of the gun moves a bit lower towards my neck.

"We're not here for the drugs, we're here for you; Captain Maevis O'Connor: Second Commanding Officer of the SAS's 141 squadron and dear friend to one Captain John Price... That is you no?" A man's voice with a thick Russian accent comes from the room to my left. I don't recognize the voice but they know me which is worrying.

"You are going to be very helpful and tell us all we ask... Or you die! Understood?" I nod my head slowly trying to catch a glimpse of the figure talking but I can't see him.

"Now take her away, we'll talk in better conditions!" Before I can respond I feel a cloth cover my mouth and nose as the man in front of me reaches out and holds the cloth there. I try to struggle, to reach for my radio or gun, anything, but my limbs go weak and my vision fades.

I wake up to cold water splashing against me, bright lights on my face causing me to squint. I try to move my arms but they're bound, my legs are free though. I'm stripped down to just my tank top and cargo pants, no boots or socks. I blink against the light as a masculine figure moves in front of me. He reaches towards me to grab my face, I try to pull back before he grabs my chin.

"You lamb are going to tell me everything you know willingly... Or we'll break you and you'll tell us after. Which would you prefer?"

I turn my head into his hand and bite as hard as I can, I can taste blood in my mouth but I continue biting. A heavy blow to my gut caused me to release my hold. I hear the man cursing in Russian as I receive another blow to my stomach.

"Don't do this Lamb, it will not go how you plan. Please I hate to beat a woman with such a pretty face but I will if I have too."

"Go feck yourself..."

"I just want to know about your wonderful Captain, you see he knows about the location of a very good friend of mine and I would like to see him. Now you're his second in command and a very close ally to John, you must know something about where my friend is, no?"

"Doesn't ring any bells"

"Ah! But I haven't told you my friends name yet! Aren't you a little bit curious?"

"No, don't care either..." Another punch this time higher just below my sternum. I wheeze a bit from the blow.

"Hmm, so you truly haven't heard about the failings of Price to Vladimir Makarov?"

I freeze a bit at the name, I've never heard anything from John himself but Laswell gave me the operation file. There was a lot of blacked out text even at my clearance but from what I could read it's a good thing he's in some unknown black site prison. This isn't going to go well for me, even if I tell them everything I know I doubt they'll believe me nor will they let me go.

"I know of him but they never let me read the operation file. Wasn't interested in reading about a mad man who's dead in a ditch somewhere..."

"AH! But he's not dead, he's very much alive Ms. O'Connor... And you will tell me where."

Another punch, harder this time, the man says something in Russian and I only pick up a few words. Nothing helpful, I feel stupid for never taking Nikoli up on his offer to teach me more than just the basics.

The figure punching me laughs and walks out of my field of view. It's a small field of view due to the bright light shining directly into my face. I feel myself being grabbed by my arms and pulled up, the light in front of me moves and I can see I'm in a very simple concrete cell, no bed, bathroom, nothing just a pipe coming from over top all the way through to the other side and a small table with a chain on it.

The Russian man who was talking has his back to me as he opens the door. I throw my head back hard into the skull of the man holding me from behind and his grip loosens. I take my opportunity to bum rush the man, slamming myself hard against him and the open door. He's knocked prone as I continue to run. Blood pumping in my ears to turn a corner and come face to face with two very heavily armed guards. I try to rush past them but they grab me and pull me back, I kick and flail trying to get another opportunity to escape.

"Oh how I wish you didn't do that Lamb, now my friend will have to teach you a lesson. Demetrius?" A figure steps out of the cell I was in, he has a bloody nose. I feel a small twinge of satisfaction from seeing it bleeding and swelling.

"Teach her well!" With that I'm tossed back into the cell after a guard bounds my ankles, I trip forwards causing the air to be knocked from my lunges. I hear heavy footsteps as the man, Demetrius, looms over me. He steps onto my left leg putting heavy pressure on it, then his full weight as he kicks my side once, knocking the little air in my lungs back out. I watch as he pulls out something shiny and metallic, before placing it onto his hands. I feel a hard blunt pain as his boot connects with my side again, once, twice, three times before he stops. The man over me chuckles darkly as he reaches down and pulls me up by my hair causing most of it to fall out the bun it was tied up in.

He drags me towards the back wall, he grabs something from the table and ties the chain around my wrist. He gets the chain over the pipe and begins to pull me up higher and higher, my toes barely touching the cold cement ground. My arm high above my head stretching my arms and shoulders in an uncomfortable and painful way, there's already a bull ache in my shoulder.

"Such a lovely body." The man's hand begins to caress my hips as I try to move away. He clicks his tongue before stepping away again, he removes his jacket and turns to me with a sadistic smile. He approaches, before landing multiple punches to my stomach and sternum.

Each blow I can feel the brass knuckles he's wearing. There's a slight throbbing pain after every hit, I know I'm going to bruise. He continues to beat me to near unconsciousness before stopping. He leaves me chained up as the first man comes back, he grabs the chair I was in originally and turns it towards me sitting down in front of me.

"Interesting, Demetrius didn't touch your face. I have to say I'm happy about that, you have such a lovely face Lamb." I just stared past him not once looking at him but keeping my head up.

"Come now Lamb if you tell us what we want you'll be free to walk your cell. I'm sure your arms are hurting now, no?" I keep my mouth shut and continue staring forwards. He mumbles to himself before standing to leave.

"Give her half rations and water, you will get more if you speak Lamb."

This cycle continues for a while, Demetrius comes into the cell beats me to near unconsciousness then Wolf (This is the only name I hear anyone call him) comes to try to talk to me. I just stare past him, keeping my head high and my mouth shut. I don't know how much time has passed. I guess a few days but I know Price and the 141 will come. Farah and Alex know I left the area and I've not come back... Unless something has happened to them as well.

I'm not given much food or water, my stomach keeps growling and there's the faint gnawing sensation in my abdomen. I'm kept in the same position, hanging by my bound wrists from the chain above me. Demetrius walks into my cell and drags in a little medical cart. Wolf follows closely behind him before approaching his chair and sits down crossing legs.

"Oh little Lamb you've made this very difficult for us. You've held out well against Demetrius and I must commend you for that." He gives a little clap as Demetrius chuckles darkly next to me.

"But we need the information Lamb so Demetrius is going to start using his favorite tools. Now I'm being kind and giving you one last chance to speak." I see Demetrius picks up a blade and wince as he pulls it across my cheek. I hiss as the pain spreads through my face. I can feel the warm blood trickle down my cheek, it's a stark contrast to the cold cell I'm stuck in.

"Feck. You." I hiss, I know I just have to hold out. My team is coming for me. Price won't abandon me no matter what anyone says. I've seen him do it before for people he's known for less time. Las Almas and Alejandro's team come to my mind as it's the most recent example.

Wolf waves a hand and I feel the sharp dragging pain as Demetrius drags his blade across my upper left arm along the underside. The blade is sharp so I don't feel the pain until after the wound is made, a thumping pain that matches the beating of my heart. I can feel the rapid dripping of my blood, the sound of my blood hitting the ground echoing through the room.

"Lamb? Do you have anything to tell me?"

"You're feckin stupid if you think a simple cut will get me to tell you anything." I stare straight ahead as I try to distract myself from the pain. I can feel another slow pull of the knife across my upper hips ripping through my skin and tank top. I bite my tongue refusing to make any noise.

"Oh come now Lamb let us hear you at least." I keep myself as calm as possible as another cut is pulled across the same hip slightly above the first one. I hear him sigh as Wolf stands up and walks out the cell, turning around to look back towards me.

"If you wish for Demetrius to stop his work all you have to do is talk Ms. O'Connor. Cut her rations again, maybe delirium from starvation will help our little Lamb loosen her lips."

Demetrius continues to slash through my skin and I focus on anything else but the pain. So I start to pull back into my mind. It's like I'm slowly carving a little hole in my consciousness, it's safe and warm there. I can't talk when there as well so I can't let anything slip. Falling into the little cave helps me deal with the pain and hunger, I know I won't have to do this much longer. Price is coming, he'll be here and he will help me get out of here.

I'm dragged out of my head as I feel a hand grab my chin and something slimy drag across my cheek. Demetrius licks up my cheek, collecting my blood and groaning. I feel sick as he meets my eyes and the same maniacal grin spreads across his face. I scream as a piercing pain radiates from my lower right hip, another scream is ripped from my chest as the knife is twisted sharply before being pulled out harshly. The hammering pain matches the rapid beating in my chest.

"Oh so pretty when you cry, I'm going to burn this picture into my mind for later. Thank you Maevis."

He moves away and I quietly cry trying desperately to crawl my way back into the safe little cave in my mind. But this seems to have caved in a little, I can't pull back as far. I can still feel every drag of Demetrius's knife across my chest, arms, thighs, and back. I keep telling myself that it's okay, they're coming. They're going to get me out of here and I'll be safe.

This cycle doesn't last as long as the previous one, or at least I think so, it's hard to tell time. My stomach stopped growling, but the gnawing had spread from my lower abdomen to my chest. Every time I breathe I can feel it biting down on my ribs, like it's trying to eat it way out of me. A wild feral beast chewing at bars of metal in desperation to flee.

Wolf walks in with another man's and Demetrius. I don't bother looking at them keeping my sight fixed on the same spot as before. I've pulled myself out of my head, out of my cave, just a bit to listen to what Wolf has to say. He gives away more than he knows by talking to me. A great little bit of information he's revealed is that he's not the one in charge. He's a middle man.

I keep replaying Ghost's words in my head when he talked to me about combating interrogation. 'Never look at your capture but always listen. If you give them nothing they'll get desperate and will show their hands more often than not. That information can be used and could be more deadly than a weapon. The real task is surviving long enough to know how to use it against them.'

"Lamb, you're being unnecessarily stubborn. You're forcing my hand but again I'm giving you a chance to talk before Ivan is put to work. So I'll ask you again, where is Makarov, what do you know?" He sounds like he's begging, but I'm not stupid and keep my mouth shut.

Wolf sighs and shakes his head, gesturing to the shorter man, Ivan. He approaches me holding a needle with liquid in it. I feel my heart rate spike as I try to move away. I feel a pair of hands grab me and hold me still, I glance back to see Demetrius smiling that same disgusting smile. I start thrashing hard ignoring the pain as I reopen wounds and the strain in my arms and shoulders. I feel a slight prick in my neck and something warm spread through my neck, shoulder, and upper skull.

I retreat into my mind, as far back as I can get hoping that whatever was pushed into my veins would have a harder time affecting me. I know it's unlikely but it's all I can do to comfort myself.

It takes some time for me to feel the changes, everything is brighter... sharper. I can feel every dull ache and thrum of pain across my skin. When Wolf talks it's loud and the lights seem to flicker brighter when he does. He asks his same questions, using the same leverage that isn't that going to change my mind. I'm acutely aware of Demetrius's hands still on my hips, his thumb rubbing circles into my hips. Then he squeezes them and I thrash away from him. Wolf barks something in Russian and Demetrius leaves the room.

'Price is coming, they'll save me. I just have to hold out.' I can feel myself mumbling away, slurring my speech as I keep saying my little mantra. A part of me is very aware saying this out loud isn't a good idea but I can't stop the part of my brain that's blabbering. It's strange how aware I am of myself but unable to control my body. It's because I'm in my safe little cave in my head, just barely keeping my head above the water that has rapidly started flooding in. The pain and drugs mixing with me retreating into myself is dangerous but I'm not drowning. So I stay, breathing calmly, hoping I can pull myself out before I drown.

"Oh Lamb, you truly think Price will come for you? It has been eight days, they do not care for you. Though your little American friend tried to come get you with a small group. We have him in another building, he's faring far better than you. He holds no information that we need so we haven't touched him... Much."

"You're... Wrong! Price... Never! He wouldn't... They'll come... They have to... They will..." I feel something warm slide down my cheeks... Tears, why am I crying? I know they'll come to get me. So why am I crying?

"Poor Lamb is so loyal to someone who has abandoned you, Makarov would never repay such loyalty with this betrayal... Just tell me where he is and I'll personally inform him of your part in his escape."

"No" I hear Wolf goan in frustration before standing and leaving.

"Ivan dose her again when this round wears off. Keep doing so while Demetrius does his usual routine."

Wolf leaves me to Demetrius and Ivan. Demetrius seemed all too happy to continue his work with his knives. He raved about all the foul things he's going to do with me in mind, what he'd like to do to me, how he's more than happy to have such a resilient woman break to him. Every word made me sick and I couldn't handle listening to it anymore. His perverted words mixing with the pain is maddening.

I'm taking a risk, I know it but it's the only way for me to feel safe. I stop trying to float, stopping wading in this water, letting myself sink into thick liquid miasma of drugs and pain. It's calming in a way, everything is muffled and muddy. I feel myself drifting deeper into the strangely numbing cocktail. Safe and comfortable...

I don't know how long I drifted in the cocktail mixture of pain and drugs. I know it's been days, eventually though I resurfaced. Ivan and Demetrius eventually leave as I slowly come down from the drug. My head is pounding and my body feels like it's on fire so I stay tucked away in my flooded cave, head barely above the water. I have to crawl back out a bit as Wolf returns to my cell.

"I tried Lamb, I tried very hard to keep you out of Sergey's room but you are too stubborn. Demetrius get her down."

My ankles are untied and the chain holding me up lowers. I can't help the sigh of relief as my arms fall in front of me. I stumbled forward as I felt a hand shoving me forwards, I got the hint and started walking. There are two armed figures in front and behind me, Demetrius and Wolf to my left and right.

I'm forced to walk for a bit, passing other cells most are empty or impossible to see in. The ones with people in them aren't looking any better than me. Eventually we reach a door and I'm shoved through. It's another cement room with a small window at the top of the far back wall. It's dark I can see there's outlines in the dark of items but I can only make out a few things. There's a light on over a single chair and there's a man standing next to the chair. That's the one thing I can see clearly.

I'm shoved into the chair, my hands are rebound behind the chair. My legs are bound together and then tied to the front two legs. Wolf sits down in another chair in front of me, Demetrius leans against the wall next to the door, and the other man, Sergey walks behind me, draping a rope around the front of me and placing both hands on my shoulders.

"I suggest you speak up now Lamb, Sergey isn't going to give you much time to speak" I stare straight ahead mentally preparing myself for what is next. I don't know if I can fully retreat into myself but I have to protect myself and going there is the only way I know how.

Sergey's hand moved to grab the rope and hold it taunt. I take one last deep breath as the rope is wrapped slowly around my throat. I try to keep calm knowing that if I panic it'll be exactly what they want. But I also know that not panicking will be more difficult as this goes on.

"Last chance Lamb, all you have to do is tell us what you know. You'll be taken back to your cell maybe even get to visit your American friend, yes?"

I say nothing, slowly I feel the rope get tighter and tighter. At first there was not much of a change, it's like breathing with my compression bra and full kit tactical vest. There's a restriction but if you know how to compensate for it, it's not that hard to deal with. Then it's like running for too long, I'm bringing in air but it's shallow. Wheezing and panting, it's not pleasant but it's not enough to kill but it's uncomfortable.

As the rope gets tighter I can feel burning around my throat, the rope rubbing and cutting into the skin making it raw and tender. I can hear my heart beat, feel it thrumming in my skull. You know that feeling when you're holding your breath under water, those last moments of desperation before you push yourself out of the water? Imagine that but there's no surface to break through, I'm just sitting with the feeling. I force myself to retreat deeper into myself.

As soon as I do my body reacts, leg and arms twitching trying to fight against my restraints. My vision begins to blur and blacken around the edges, I can feel my lunges burning like there's fire slowly engulfing my chest. My whole body is thrumming and pounding in tune with my heart, like everything is pulsing. I can feel a cold sheen of sweat across my body, I think I'm crying but it's hard to tell. I think I'm too dehydrated to cry but I'm sweating so I can't be too certain. It's hard to think, to move, to do anything except gasp desperately for air.

I'm teetering on the edge of oblivion, I know if this keeps up I won't be around to see salvation. A part of me is hoping for that little push, to have this all end. I wonder if it would be the same as when I retreat into myself, just floating in the miasma of distant feelings. I wonder if I'll feel the pain of my body slowly fade or if it'll just all disappear at once...

Suddenly the pressure is gone, I'm shunted out of my brain into the driver's seat. I gasp for air, gulping and heaving trying desperately to air in my lungs. The feelings are still there but faint like I'm drifting when I know I'm not. I'm very much in the middle of all of this and I can't retreat to find comfort.

"So are you willing to talk? Because the next thing isn't going to be as nice as this Lamb."

"Go. Feck. Yourself... You can all go rot..." My voice is horse and strained.

"I really do wish you would just cooperate Ms. O'Connor, it's been eleven days... Price is not coming for you. Why protect him?"

I say nothing keeping my expression stoic, but inside I feel something begins to bleed. It's been slowly cracking slightly oozing something into my veins and to my heart. I'm losing hope, I don't want to think of Price abandoning me but it may be my reality. I get nauseous at that thought, because surely at least one of my team is fighting to come and get me, right?

No, this will get me nowhere. "Go eat a bullet"

"Sergey, you have 3 days with our Lamb here. Why not demonstrate the other event she's going to enjoy with you."

Demetrius walks behind me, grabbing the back of my chair and tilting it back holding it there. Sergey ties a cloth over my face and I instantly know I'm going to have to fight. I hear metal creaking and water rushing, footsteps and splashing getting closer and closer. I take a deep breath at the last possible second.

The water splashes over my face covering the cloth. As soon as I can't hold my breath for any longer I begin to move my head taking deep gasping breaths before moving again. Water invades everything, burning as it goes down my nose and throat, stinging as it rushes across the cut on my cheek. I hold my breath as the water moves across my face, I try to keep my movements subtle. I don't want them to be able to predict me. Eventually the water stops and the rag is removed, the rope around my shoulders is being picked up again.

"Good luck Lamb, Sergey doesn't find pleasure in this work so he'll be changing frequently between the two. I'll see you again in 3 days, hopefully after your time spent with Sergey you'll be more talkative."

I watch as Wolf leaves the room and I feel the rope tighten. There's searing pain all across my neck and a pounding in my head. I'm also incredibly cold, being wet causes the rope to slip and a soft cry escapes my lips as more tears fall from my eyes. I hear Demetrius chuckles darkly and fresh tears fall as my air supply is stolen from me again.

The next chunk of time is numbing. Going back and forth between retreating into my mind to being shunted back out in order to survive drowning it breaks a small part of me. I don't want to give up hope but I can't wait any longer, if I stay any longer I'm going to die. Escaping on my own is just as likely to kill me but there's a chance and I can't hold out any longer.

Wolf drags me back to my original cell, putting me back into the same position as before. He sits down in his chair, dismissing Demetrius and bringing another soldier to stand beside him.

"Oh little Lamb you're losing hope, I can tell. There's a dying spark in your eyes. Do you know how long you've been here?"

I keep my head down, refusing to meet his eye but too tired to keep my head up. I'm so tired, I just want this to stop... But there's only one option that will truly make this stop, I have to escape.

"14 days... Two weeks and nothing from your captain or team. I will leave you for now, let you recover for a few days and think about where your loyalty lies Lamb..." Wolf leaves and so too does the guard.

I have a rough plan on how to get out, Wolf has been true to his words so far. Because of that I've had plenty of time to think and realize that the pipe I'm strung up on is loose. If I can just get enough leverage I'd be able to get myself out. Beyond that it's survival but it's my only chance.

I'm receiving a meal again, once a day or at least that's what I assume the cycle is. There's multiple guards when the meal comes so I can't spring the plan then, but it may be my only hope.

I hear the shifting of my cell door and as I look up through my hair I see Wolf approaching with my food. It's just him in the cell but Demetrius is standing outside smiling at me. I feel nauseous again.

"You've had a day to think Lamb, how are you feeling? Maybe a bit of food will help you better come to the right answer."

"I'd think a lot better if I wasn't strung up like a butchered pig."

"I'd let you down if I could but sadly it is not my call Lamb. If you gave us what we needed then we could let you down Lamb." There's a commotion as multiple armed guards come rushing towards the cell.

"Sir! There is multiple armed soldiers invading cell block A! What should we do?"

My heart leaps to my throat, is it them? Are they finally here? Was I right that they'd come for me!?

"Who are they?"

"Mostly armed militia sir, they're only trying to get to cell block A. Its not the men you warned us about!"

No... No that can't be. Why aren't they here... Why have they left me? What did I do wrong? Surely they're here right? They haven't abandoned me... It's Farah coming to Alex... But do they even know I'm here... Does anyone know... Do they think-

"Send all squads except for A and B squads, they will guard the halls here."

My vision pulls back, back into that safe comforting area of mind that I've scraped and clawed at to keep myself sain. That dark bleeding feeling becomes a flood. I'm not in control, I can't be anymore. I'm not capable of it anymore, so float and sink. The flooding of the black fluid emotion seems to be what's moving me now.

The soldiers rush away and Demetrius turns his back to the cell. Wolf is still sitting in front of me with his back to me and he looks distracted. I grab the chain, pull myself up, swing my body forwards and wrap my legs around Wolf's shoulders. I pulled him towards me so I have better leverage and used that to pry the pipe down.

Once the chain and pipe becomes loose I loop the chain tight around Wolf's neck. And then I pull, putting all of my strength until I feel a pop then keep going until there's another pop and Wolf stops flailing. I drop onto the ground with the body of Wolf underneath me.

I stand, dropping the chains, and grabbing the pipe. Demetrius still has his back to the cell, I move towards the bars. Quickly I get the bar out of the cell and in front of Demetrius, I grab both sides and throw my entire weight back. I can feel him thrashing and clawing at my arms.

"Not so fun being on the other side is it?" I can see the panic in his eyes as he tries to turn his head towards me, something inside me purrs with satisfaction. I throw my weight back once more and hold it until he's no longer moving, until he's no longer breathing, there's a purr again. I check both bodies finding Demetrius's brass knuckles and a knife left in the cell. I cut my hand loose of their bindings and take a moment to let relief flood my system.

I open the cell door and go the opposite way the soldiers ran. My body is moving on its own, going from shadow to shadow. It's like I'm watching from a distance, through a thick fog. Everything is murky and hard to see or hear, but I still know what I'm doing.

I know that I'm currently pressed against a wall listening to three lightly armed guards talk to each other. I can feel the excitement and joy as they split off two and one. I can feel the strain of my body as I grab the guard and pull him towards me. The swift movement of my knife across his throat, the warm coating of blood across my hands. The ache and pain from moving the body to better be hidden.

My body doesn't grab his gun, a part of me understands. I have the element of surprise right now and guns are loud, but I can hear another part of me screaming to grab it. That gun is a safety net and we need that small comfort, it sounds desperate as it please. But whatever is in control doesn't care and keeps moving.

Again finding shadow my body approaches the two guards, they stop and turn their backs to each other and stand facing down two opposite directions. Slowly approaching the one on the right and grabs them. Pivoting so the guard so he's facing his buddies as they scream and shout in Russian. The one not grappled turned and sprayed a spread of bullets hitting his friends. There's warmth spreading across my lower abdomen as the body's blood seeps out all over me and the tattered dirty clothes I'm still wearing. He's still alive so my knife and hands get a fresh coat of red.

Grabbing the dead man's side arm and shooting it twice at the chest of the female guard. The two bodies drop and my body is on the move again. It's odd how different my body is on auto pilot, running purely on instinct, adrenaline, and that dark flooding feeling that is all around me.

I know what it's called, what it is but saying it, acknowledging it feels like it will break something in me. Permanently changing something I could never get back. She knows it and I know it, we both know as well that this is the only way to protect us. So She stays in charge, surviving on feral instincts while I sink slowly deeper into our mind. Escaping further and further away from everything because this is how I'll survive.

She finds more guards, four solo roaming the halls. Each one painted our hands and arms with more red, with each kill I can feel myself sinking further and further away. It's odd I've never allowed Her full control like this, She's always there when I kill. That overwhelming emptiness I feel when I pull the trigger... It scares me every time, so I focus on their humanity and the sadness of ending them. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.

She finds another two soldiers, dragging the first one away into a shadowy alcove. As soon as the blood on our arms started to cool the other soldier appeared opening fire. The sharp, crystal clear, stab of pain pulls me up to the surface of everything. I have the chance to pull myself into the driver's seat again but it's so comforting to be just drifting. So I let myself sink again, because if I'm going to die then I want to die with whatever comfort I can get... And being adrift in this lonely sea of my mind is the greatest comfort I have.

She moves again tackling our assailant and stabbing into his throat. Standing and moving again we continue down the halls. Then there's the unmistakable sound of rapid gun fire down the hall in front of us. She ducts into the shadows again, slowly moving us towards three figures... All of their backs turned towards us. Distracted by something else and not paying attention to the danger right behind them. I can feel the deep satisfaction She purrs out as it echoes through the waters I'm floating in.

The one furthest back is the first to go as She launches herself onto the back of the first guard. Our knife finds a home in his neck, three times as more red coats more of our body. He's still holding his rifle and all it takes is for her to aim towards the second soldier, his friends impulses do the rest it unloads into number twos back.

I feel myself slipping further away, I can't handle being so close. I can feel everything, the thrumming of pain, the pumping of adrenaline, the warmth of blood soaking my body... The lack of emotions... There's nothing, just death. And that scares me so I sink further below, into the comforts of my mind.

Still holding the body She turns towards the last soldier as he fires repeatedly into his fellow guard's body. Only once he starts to reload his rifle does She begin to move, surging forwards and tackling him to the ground. It's only once we're on the ground that it seems to register that our beloved knife is in the neck of the first guard. Thankfully though we have the brass knuckles from Demetrius's cold corpse.

There's a difference between slicing someone's neck open and beating someone to death. It's a difference I never wanted to know but I do now, I can't seem to slip far enough away. I can feel everything, every crack of bone, every splitting of skin, and every splatter of blood. I force myself further away, I can't deal with this.

She grabs the soldier's knife and stabs it into his chest. I can hear the movement even through the pounding of our heart and our heavy breathing. She turns pulling our new knife from the guard's chest and begins to move towards the last living guard. She stood over him before falling to our knees, one on either side of him.

"No, please... Please! PLEA-" His begging is interrupted as the first stab goes into his back, puncturing a lunge. A lung being stabbed while some is talking isn't a pleasant sound. There's a rushing of garbled air that escapes the mouth. His pleas get quieter and quieter as her stabs get louder and more frequent. Only stopping once the guard stops moving. Something moves in front of us and I can feel the blood thirst spike again.

"O'Connor are you okay?"

Wait I know that voice! We know that voice!

She stands up gripping the knife tightly, that the same purr echoes around me. Excited for more blood...

"Calm down you're hurt, we can get you out!"

No no no no! Stop! We know him! It's Soap! He's a friend! He's our boy!

I try desperately to swim up, I have to gain control. I can't stay here but it's so hard to get out. Why? It's been so easy before to pull myself to the surface and out into control, why has it changed? I can't get to him in time. I watch in horror, trapped in my own mind, as my body moves to kill Soap.

Something large, dark, and strong grapples my body dragging Her away. I see the white skull and panicked blue eye of Ghost. I continue to claw desperately in my own mind. What once was a comfort, a way to keep myself sane and safe, now feels like another prison for me to escape... Because if I don't I may kill my boys.

Ghost gets the knife out of our hand and prevents Her from grabbing his knife attached to the vest he's wearing. I can hear Soap begging for me to calm down and every part of me is screaming the same thing. Ghost is a formidable opponent when sparing but we're evenly matched, though he tends to win a few more rounds. I hope more than anything that today is one of those days that he predicts the winning move right.

She goes to lunge again and Ghost predicts it, dodging to the side before moving to pin our body against the ground. Positioning himself better, he puts me into a headlock before sitting back. He wraps his left leg around and pins our left leg, properly preventing Her from getting any leverage.

"O'Connor please, calm down. It's just me and Johnny, we're not here to hurt you!"

She continues thrashing and growling, I can feel Ghost squeeze harder. I can feel our nails dig into Ghost's arm. At first there was only fabric but then I heard something rip and I could feel flesh. Ghost squeezes harder and the same suffocating feeling overcomes me but this time I truly hope I don't get the chance to resurface. Because I'm not sure I can get back into control in time.

"Calm down O'Connor!"

Slowly the thrashing stops and I can feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. Finally I resurface but I know it's too late so I give into the oblivion of sleep.

I'm floating again, but there's something wrong. This isn't me shielding myself from something happening, this is the familiar in-between of conscious and unconscious. That state where your mind is awake and your body is still out. I focus on what I can remember and panic floods everything, the torturing, my escape, the disconnect getting worse, my feral frenzy, Soap and Ghost. Suddenly the curtain is lifted and I can hear myself screaming.

I'm sitting up, pushed far back against the bed, breathing heavily. I'm in a hospital room not a concrete cell and all the tension and panic is gone. I look to see everyone here, Laswell, Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz and Roach. I feel tears streak down my cheeks as they check in on me and indulge me in a group hug.

Eventually I was discharged and learned I was kidnapped by the Russian ultra nationalist extremist group. They were keeping tabs on Farah hoping to catch Price the next time they interact together... But I was the second best opinion. Farah and Alex visited me in the hospital and explained what happened.

My lieutenant never informed anyone about me going out for a house call despite regulation. It got chaotic and busy very fast. It took Farah going to look for me about two days later to realize I was missing, it was only then that the lieutenant spoke up. Alex manages to track down the young man who lured me away. He learns the young man's sister was being held hostage and that luring me away was the only way she'd be set free.

It took four days to find the prison sight, only for their attempt to break in to fail and gets Alex captured. Farah the entire time was trying to get ahold of someone from the 141, anyone but nothing was going through. By the time Farah managed to get something through Price was already on his way. I feel relief knowing they were looking for me, trying to find me but I feel a bit of resentment towards how long it took. I know logically why it would've taken so long but I can't seem to shake the bitter resentment that has made it's home next to my heart.

Everyone was with me as we had to drive and again I felt myself crying. I hate that I doubted them but that small dark part was whispering that it was a reasonable thing to do. Before we leave the hospital to go back to base, Laswell stops me.

"Maevis, before you return to base I have a massage from Quinn..." There's anxiety in Kate's voice as she hands me a small envelope. "I'm sorry she's had a change of heart. I wanted to tell you before you got to base... You usually try to talk to her and I know you'd likely try..." (My friend no longer wants her OC to be in a lesbian relationship, is okay that happens! Love you Jules)

I spent the ride back to the base thinking; about Quinn, about my most recent experience, about those who've stuck beside me and tried to save me... About the shame and frustration I felt and still feel. There's a whirlwind of a million thoughts and emotions in my head and I can't focus on a single one.

Once back on base Price calls me into his office, we walk together into the room. I sat in front of his desk chair expecting him to sit there, instead he sat in the chair next to me. He had his hands clasped together with his head down causing the shadow from his bucket hat to cover his face.

"John? Wha-"

"I'm sorry it took us so long Maevis... There's no excuse for it. I should have known something was wrong the moment our communication stopped. As soon as you didn't come back from the week deployment I should have pulled everyone back from their ops and looked into it."

"John... You couldn't have known, Farah already told us that their communication was compromised. You also had multiple small operations going that you had to pay attention to. I was the one least likely to be in danger, I had Farah and Alex with me and a full squad dealing with injured civilians. I'm fine now..." I try to keep the tears in but I can feel the warmth of them falling onto my cheeks.

"15 days and 12 hours... You had multiple lacerations, bruising, and rope burns. You were severely starved and was extremely close to death by dehydration. Not to mention the lack of sleep and the cocktail of drugs in your system... You were tortured within an inch of your life and you managed to escape. You don't experience all of that and walk out fine." Price looks at me with that look. The same look he gives he'll give one of the youngsters after a particularly rough day. Thankfully this isn't the first time I've cried in front of Price so I don't feel ashamed or embarrassed.

"That's not the worst part for me though John! I... Sweet Jaesus I thought you'd never come. That you'd left me or that you couldn't find me." Price placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it slightly to comfort me.

"Then Farah's team broke into the wrong cell block and something snapped. I was so confused and hurt... I was angry... I felt... Hopeless like no matter what I was going to die so I at least wanted to die trying to get out of there..." I was struggling to breathe as the words kept tumbling out, I just kept blabbering about everything that happened. Everything came out, I told Price everything that I experienced and how I coped with it.

"I'm sorry Maevis, I'm so sorry..." John pulls me into a long hug after I finish talking. We stayed like that for a while John holding me while I cried into his shoulder. It reminds me of when we were younger, all those rough nights with Will, questioning if I made the right choices. Eventually though I calm down and I leave to debrief some random Superior Officer with everything that happened and what I learned.

An hour and a half of me going into graphic details and some high ranking general asking stupid questions. Once I'm finally dismissed the cantina is closed and I'm not in the mood to go to the rec room so I just walk to my office. I have to replace my bandages anyways. I open my office door to see Gaz sitting in front of my desk. He turns and smiles at me as soon as I close the door.

"You didn't come to dinner and Price told us you had to talk to your COs and answer questions... I noticed you still weren't out of your meeting as the cantina was about to close so I grabbed your dinner..." It was then that I noticed the tray of food on my desk, still warm.

"Thank you Gaz, that's very thoughtful of you." I walk over and sit across from him. We chat for a bit while I eat, he tells me about the mission he and Roach were sent on. It was just some simple recon with plenty of gorgeous views.

"Would you like help with some of your bandages? I know they're difficult to replace alone and I'm already here..." I smile at Gaz before nodding. I'm wearing a tank top with loose pants because of all the bandages and how uncomfortable they are when I wear a turtle neck. Though I have been wearing my hoodie.

It takes a bit and by the time Gaz finishes helping me with my arm and neck it's late into the night. I tell him I can get the rest on my own and that he should go to bed. After Gaz leaves and I finish replacing my bandages I go to bed.

It's been a few days since I've been dismissed from the hospital and put on medical leave. I'm having trouble sleeping consistently so I'm currently out for a late night walk. It was raining earlier today and now it's the perfect weather for a night walk. I'm slowly walking around the outside of the furthest hanger.

I don't see or hear anyone when suddenly there's a figure behind me. I feel myself shunted out of the driver's seat and into that same miasma from before, my vision loses focus and my body reacts before I can even comprehend. I spin and grab the figure shoving them hard against the building. I look to see Roach is who I have pinned.

Roach who has a look of shock and pain written across he face... He has fear in his eyes, he's scared of me. And that realization pulls me back so fast I wonder if I can mental whiplash. I quickly let go of my hold on the boy and step back. Shame floods senses and blurring my vision.

"I- I'm so sorry Roach... I don't know what came over me! Are you okay?" I can hear the fear in my own voice and the tears welling up in my eyes. I try to keep them at bay but they start flowing freely. Because instead of saying or signing anything to me, Roach steps forwards and pulls me into a hug. I cling to him as the tears continue their journey.

"I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to hurt you, to scare you... I don't know why I did that, I've never done that before... I don't know what came over me, I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" It's getting harder and harder to breathe.

"Mom, calm down... Breathe for me yeah?" Roach pulls back a bit and places my hand onto his chest above his heart. I can feel the faintest thumping of his heart and the inhale, exhale of his chest. I unintentionally start breathing in sync with him, calming me down.

"I snuck up on you, you reacted. You didn't hurt me, I was just caught off guard. I wanted to ask if you'd like to walk with me?" I nod not trusting my voice.

We walk together in relative silence, occasionally being broken up by small chats or Ripley barking at Roach to throw her ball. We eventually make our way back into the barracks and split up to go to our different rooms. I'm physically exhausted which helps me shut off my brain a bit and fall asleep easier.

I'm sitting in my office catching up on paperwork when two figures appear in my doorway. I look up to see Ghost and Soap walking in and sitting across from me at my desk. I set aside what I was doing to give the duo my full attention.

"I wanted to say thank you for getting me out of that prison and I'm sorry for attac-"

"Don't apologize Doc" Ghost cuts me off and Soap nods in agreement. Soap stares at me, like he's looking for something before speaking.

"LT said it best, you weren't yourself. Whatever attacked us was running on pure instinct alone... Though that was scary as hell, you were horrifying. I'd say almost as scary as Ghost!" Soap was smiling as Ghost gave the sergeant a slight shove on his shoulder.

"But seriously I don't ever want to be in your sights like that again. You looked ready to tear my head off and play football with it, if Ghost hadn't jumped in when he did." Soap got this far off look before he continued to speak. "I really hope none of us have to see you like that ever again... It felt so wrong to watch you act so ruthless."

" I'm sorry you had to witness that... It scared me too, I didn't feel in control at all. It was like I was locked away in my own head watching my body react without my input... I hated it." Ghost nods his head with this knowing look in his eyes.

"Doc... Roach told me about last night, he told me you had the same look in your eyes..." I look at Ghost and he has a familiar glint in his eyes.

"While I was..." I make a vague gesture. "Anytime it got to be too much I slipped into my head, it was the only place that felt safe." I focused on a spot behind their heads. I felt like I couldn't look at them as I talked about this.

"Eventually I just stayed there, only resurfacing to listen to that bastard talk. But there was something breaking that I couldn't fix... And then the dam broke and I just kept sinking further and further down..." I felt the warmth of fresh tears on my cheeks and I just want to curl into myself.

"Is it fixed? The dam?"

"I don't think so, there's still a leak I can feel it slowly oozing near my heart. It was worse the first few days in the hospital..."

"What will it take for that dam to break again? Will it break again..."

"I don't know honestly... It will... Now that it's broken I don't think I can go back to normal." I look at Ghost and we maintain eye contact, silently acknowledging each other.

"How do we help you when it happens again Doc?"

"Knock me out, after that... I'm not sure... I've been struggling to figure out how to cope with everything. I'm still physically recovering so I can't really do what I'd normally do. I can't workout or go to the range and I can't just throw myself into a mission because I've been sidelined." I rub my temples as I think a bit more before sighing.

"Usually I'd read but I haven't gone into town to buy any new books... Though I suppose I can, now that I'm sidelined for a bit."

"Then that's what you do Doc... Trust me it takes some time to get back to some form of normalcy after something like that. You won't be the same, there's permanent changes from what happened." Ghost has the same sad look in his eyes, every time I look at him since I've woken up in the hospital.

It's not a look of pity, it's a look of understanding. Like he knows exactly what I went through and I know he does. He probably understands better than anyone even me. There's a sense of camaraderie between us now... A camaraderie that neither of us wanted the other to understand, but sadly that's not the case. Instead it's nice to know that there's someone here who can intimately understand the why behind something.

I'm not alone, a sad but comforting fact.

[wofbutgood]

Finally figured something out for these bastards wings. Good news is now that I know what I'm doing, none of the other dragons will give me nearly as hard of a time. Will probably help too that none of the other dragons wings as nearly as cartoonishly large.

Image description and transcript of text below the cut:

[Figure 1 description: A birds eye view of a skywing with its wings slightly folded, showing off its partially feathered wing. The feathers are a dark grey-purple, and the membrane a dark brown with lighter cream stripes. It's head is curled to look back behind itself.

Figure 2 description: A skywing stood next to a white silhouette of a man, labeled as 6ft. The top of the mans head is just level with the Skywings chin. The Skywing has its wing stretched upwards to show its massive wingspan and the pale cream underside of its wings.

Figure 3 description: A large bust of a Skywing with its mouth open. Its teeth are robust and packed closely together, similar to dinosaur teeth. The lateral incisors are missing, and the central incisors form a large, beak-like shape. Its nose, chin, and neck are a pale cream colour, while its forehead and cheeks are a dark brown with reddish iridescence. Its eyes are green.]

Text Reads:

Skywings.

Anatomy and ecology.

Skywings are the true masters of flight on Pyrrhia. Many are capable of persistent flight for weeks without ever touching the ground, taking advantage of wind streams and thermals that develop over the vast warm ocean for effortless propulsion. Wing types are almost invariably long and narrow, comparable to albatross and frigatebirds.

Skywings colours tend to be a range of brown, black, and agouti feathers, with distinctive countershading and a noticeable red iridescents at certain angles. All Skywiwing have dark sclera, their irises typically shades of yellow, brown, and occasionally green. The bare scales can be any colour; in Skywings, it’s often a dark blue-grey.

With a wingspan of 30ft, Skywings boast not only the largest wing-to-body ratio, but also the largest wingspan of all dragonkind.

This expression of feather coverage is a form of sun protection.

Like all dragons, Skywings lost their lateral incisors, their central incisors becoming large and beak-like.

Skywings are obligate carnivores and primarily piscivorous. They have a varied diet of fish, crustaceans, and small mammals.

Skywings have minimal sexual dimorphism; slightly smaller, brighter males, and larger, dull coloured females. Mating occurs seasonally, and most individuals lack any significant sex drive out of season.

In pre-modern times, females would typically mate with multiple males and breeding pairs would not form permanent bonds. In the modern day, how many husbands a single female has is dictated by wealth and status, and many will go their whole life without mating at all.

[mollyrolls]

im going to invest in a ghost writer. who wants to be the official mollyrolls ghost writer. you'll get annoying texts abt all my ideas and then forced to write them while i pile more and more on you. this is a fair and equitable trade for everyone involved.

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

you know that bit in harrow where she hasn't slept for six days and she's insane and making soup out of her own bone marrow

that's how i feel currently

[moonchild9350]

Spell for Love

Summary: You were given a familiar, Seungmin, long ago to help guide you in your practice as a witch. Seungmin is your everything, both of you being destined to fall for each other. However, fate has other plans as there's chaos when you both break the rules with your love.

Pairing: Familiar Seungmin x Witch gn reader

Genre: fantasy au, thriller, fluff, angst, smut- 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: witchcraft (duh), violence, mention of chronic illness, mention of blood, mention of death, p in v penetration, creampie (dont), multiple rounds, they're in love your honor lol

Notes: Seungmin would make a good familiar hehe. Anyhoo spooktober continues with week 3 and I hope you enjoy this next installment!

If you enjoyed, please consider a like, comment, and reblog as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

“Love is a strange dark magic, where death may only make it stronger, the softest kiss in the wrong direction can stew it away forever.”-Atticus

You have known Seungmin since you were a child, a little witch under the care of your mother and aunts. He was your familiar, a spirit sent to guide you throughout your life as a witch.

He was assigned to you at the measly age of six, at your coming of age as a witch. You remember the day, how it was filled with ceremonies and rituals, sanctifying you as a witch. Both of you received matching signets, a raven, branded onto your skin to show you were bound to each other for eternity.

At first you were a little weary of the boy, his hair always disheveled, his clothes a mess. He was also quiet, taking a while to break out of his shell, while you were full of energy, often bouncing around him talking nonstop.

Seungmin often took refuge in his familiar form, a shaggy black dog, when you were younger which seemed to be more comfortable for him. Despite this, he always was there to guide you and ensure you were on the proper track in your studies.

As you grew, he became your best friend and confidant. If you were in one spot, he wasn’t too far behind. If you got into yet another fight with the other witches at school, he would be the one to break up the fight and then later proceed to comfort you. Seungmin became your foundation through the rockiest points in your life.

However, that was years ago. Now you both were not so little and living in a small town. You had a little cottage in the woods, the one with flowers in the windows and lining the walkway to the door. Your prized garden was out back, filled with flowers and herbs you used for your potions. Smoke billows from the chimney into the night air, the fire casting a warm glow.

If anyone looked through the window, they’d catch a glimpse of a cozy scene, none the wiser to who lived at the little cottage. You chose to stay a little ways from town, as not everyone accepted you and what you were. They’d cast you looks and steer clear of you when passing you in town.

The townsfolk warned their children to never go to the cottage in the woods, lest they want to become the victim of the witches spell. It was all hodgepodge, however, as you and Seungmin were the most down to earth people, staying to yourselves and nice to everyone you met.

---

Today was an important day, one you had been looking forward to. You were summoned for a job, to help cure a sick child within the town. You often offered your services of healing, wanting to help others instead of staying cooped up in your cottage.

However, it has been months since your last summons, as the townsfolk did not want to believe in such "witchcraft." Therefore, when a desperate mother showed up at your door step, pleading for you to help her daughter, you gladly accepted the mother's plea.

So here you were, sliding a dress over your legs, pulling it up around your body, the material fitting perfectly along your slender frame. Seungmin watched from his chair in the corner, his eyes lingering on your curves as you fiddled with the sleeves. He loved your body, slender but plush in all the right places, perfect for his arms to wrap around.

Seungmin loved everything about you. He has ever since he first met you when he was appointed your familiar. He would do just about anything for you, and he means anything. Right about now, that includes fastening the buttons on the back of your dress.

“Thanks Min,” you said with a warm smile, watching as Seungmin fastened your dress, feeling the brush of his fingers through the fabric, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

Seungmin smiled, his lip curling up at your praise. Your grin grew wider as you smoothed your dress down. You turned to face Seungmin, as he stood in front of you, his eyes looking into yours expectedly. You placed your hands on either side of his face and squished his cheeks playfully, a soft whine falling from his mouth in protest. You giggled at the noise, amused at his annoyance at the gesture.

You both stood there for who knows how long, staring into each other’s eyes, the love you have for each other radiating within the small room.

Yes, you love Seungmin. You have for years. He’d do anything for you, he cares for you, more than you can say for most people. You wondered if he loves you back, loves you unconditionally just like you do for him?

You smile one last time, before dropping your arms and walking away.

“Let’s go Min,” you said, grabbing your pouch with the potion that would heal the child.

You both left the cottage and made your way towards town to Marion's house. Marion was the name of the child you were summoned to heal. She had an illness that has been plaguing her for years and wouldn’t go away. The town’s doctors did not know what caused her illness, every form of treatment failing. Over the last fortnight, it has been getting worse, as she’s not even able to get out of bed.

Seungmin watched as you clutched your pouch closer to your body as you hurried down the path. He could tell you were eager, as it’s been a while since you’ve been summoned. He helped you prepare the perfect potion for Marion, one that will heal her if her parent’s followed the proper regimen.

“We need to add Reishi, Comfrey, sage for healing, and a little Hops for sedation,” Seungmin remembered you saying, handing you each ingredient when you asked for them. The aroma wasn’t exactly pleasant, but little work that you both do is so. “This will be perfect for the girl, should heal her in no time!” Seungmin sure hoped so for your sake.

It wasn't long until the town came into view, the buildings looming in the distance as the sun was setting, tucking itself in to rest. The moon was peaking out, slowly showing itself as it's time neared with each passing minute.

You could see people hurrying back home or the local pub for a bite to eat as their day was coming to an end. Seungmin walked closer to you, placing his arm on your back protectively, as he guided you through town.

There was something in the air, an electricity that seemed to dance through the humid air and dance across the skin, causing the hair on his arm to raise. The air felt thick, almost making it difficult to breathe. Seungmin was worried, his eyes darting this way and that, watching the many faces passing by as you got closer to little Marion’s house.

“It’s ok Min. We’ll complete the job and be back home before you know it,” you said, trying to soothe your familiar.

You could tell he was on edge as he ushered you through town. If he was in his familiar form, you're sure the fur on his back would be bristled, his ears perked up for any abnormal sounds.

He had reason to be on edge you thought as you felt it too, something looming around you, ready to pounce in the spur of the moment. You needed this job to go well, not only for Marion's sake but also because were running out of funds, your money jar just about empty back at the cottage.

Arriving at your destination, you both stopped in your tracks, staring at the door. You squeezed Seungmin’s hand in yours before knocking, your knuckles tapping the wood three times. You didn’t have to wait long as Marion’s mother opened the door not a moment later, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She regarded you with slight uncertainty, before stepping back and ushering you in.

You stepped over the threshold, following her silently, through the kitchen, the living area, and to a door. She looked at you once more before turning the knob and opening the door.

You were slightly taken aback, as sweltering heat hit you in the face, the room baking in the summer heat. The air was stale, the smell of yesterdays food and antiseptic permeating the room. The windows were closed and bolted tight, allowing no airflow into the room, other than from the door you stood at now.

You hesitated to walk in, your eyes wide in shock.

“We are at wits end y/n,” Marion’s mother exclaimed, “please help us!”

You regarded the woman in front of you, taking in her pleading, bloodshot eyes. You could tell she was suffering, the responsibility of caring for a sick child taking its tole. You nodded and looked at Seungmin, before making your way to Marion’s bed.

You sat your pouch down and rustled through it, looking for the potion that you and Seungmin had prepared the night before. You hand brushed against something smooth and small before you wrapped your fingers around it, pulling out a vial, the amber liquid within sloshing against the side. Smiling, you stood up and walked closer to Marion.

Looking at the girl, you could tell she was gravely ill, most likely on death’s door. You brushed your hand through her wispy hair, gently singing a soothing song. Marion opened her eyes, the sunken in orbs finding your face. You smiled and uncorked the vial, bringing it to her lips.

You encouraged her to drink with promises of healing, tipping the vial slowly into her mouth. Marion gulped it down as best as she could, her eyes never leaving yours. Once she was done, you discarded the vial and smiled before turning to face her mother.

“She should start to feel better within the week,” you said.

“Thank you! Thank you!” The mother cried, tears streaming down her face at the hope of her child finally being healed.

You nodded and reached out your hand, as the lady placed two silver coins into your palms. You thanked her and made to leave, Seungmin following close behind. You walked with purpose, the promise of a nice dinner for once on your mind, the sound of the two coins clinking together in your pouch.

“We can have anything for dinner tonight Min!” You exclaimed, grabbing his hand. “Let’s stop here at this pub.”

Seungmin agreed, excited at the prospect of eating more than a few potatoes. He followed you into the crowded pub, his eyes roaming over the people gathered there for dinner. He sniffed the air, the aroma of the pub's house stew permeating the air, causing him to salivate and his stomach to growl.

You came across a table in the corner that seemed good as any and so you both sat down, settling in on the old, wooden chairs. Seungmin ordered two bowls of the stew, smiling at the waitress as she placed two mugs of mead in front of you. You sighed in contentment as the golden liquid slid down your throat, settling in your belly, causing you to feel warm from the inside out.

You didn’t have to wait long for your food to arrive, as two piping hot bowls filled with meat and vegetables was placed in front of you. You grabbed your spoon and dug in, filling your belly with the warm stew. You both ate in silence, savoring the taste of the food and listening to the chatter of the other patrons, enjoying the cozy atmosphere.

You both were almost done eating when a guttural scream laced with anguish pierced the night air and traveled into the loud pub. Everyone quieted instantly at the sound, turning their heads to the door to see the source of the disturbance. The door swung open, the wood slamming against the wall, as a woman came running in, the skirt of her dress billowing behind her.

“You killed her!” She screamed over and over, tears streaming down her face as she pointed an accusing finger your way.

You recognized Marion’s mother, your heart dropping at the sight of her. What did she mean that you killed her? You almost fell backwards as she rushed at you, her arms outstretched as if to strangle you, fury mixed with despair plastered on her face.

“You killed her, you…you witch!” She screamed as she tried to claw at your face.

You tried to protect your face from her hands but shrieked as her hands eventually made contact, her sharp nails dragging down your cheek, drawing blood. Seungmin quickly grabbed your arm, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you up from your chair.

"We need to run, come on y/n!" Seungmin said, a sense of urgency in his voice.

You agreed, and started to run behind him, your free hand on your cheek trying to stop the bleeding from your wound. You both made it to the door in no time. Seungmin pushed passed the townsfolk who were trying to block your way to escape, flinging the door open causing the people to scatter.

You both ran down the path, causing dirt to fly everywhere, the dust coating the bottom of your dress. Dodging the people on the path proved easy as they hurried to get out of the way, their eyes widened as you two ran past.

You didn’t slow down, following behind Seungmin as he dragged you along. You were breathing heavy, as your lungs tried to expand with the amount of exertion you were placing on your body. The edge of town was in sight, the expanse of trees taking shape signaling that you were almost home. You didn’t stop running, not even when you arrived at your door.

Seungmin quickly unlocked the door and ushered you in, giving a quick glance down the path before closing the door quickly behind you and sliding the deadbolt in place, effectively locking it.

You sunk to the floor, your body falling into a heap, your hands trembling as you brought them to your face. You wondered where you went wrong, running over the steps of brewing the potion the night before. You went through each step, one by one, tears streaming down your face, but not able to think of one way you could have gone wrong.

You were shaken out of your thoughts by the feel of Seungmin’s warm hands on yours, as he carefully brought them away from your face to grasp them in his.

“Don’t cry, y/n,” he said, pain reflected in his eyes at your distress. “You didn’t do this. That child was close to death by the time we got there.”

You shook your head at his words, trying to believe in them. You looked down at your hands intertwined, watching as his fingers rubbed soothing circles over your knuckles. You were happy that Seungmin was here with you and comforting you.

Seungmin watched your face, pain in his heart as he watched the tears fall from your eyes, painting your beautiful face. His eyes wandered to the scratches on your cheek, blemishing the flesh that is usually flushed with red. He held your hands tighter in his, not wanting to let them go. He felt his heart swell, his love for you ever growing. He had to let you know just how much he cares for you, fearing that your time together is shorter than he would like.

“Y/n,” Seungmin whispered before leaning towards you, his gaze holding yours.

You did not move, frozen in place as you watched Seungmin lean closer and closer to you. You took in his shaggy hair, the tips of the strands lightly touching his eyelashes, almost obscuring his eyes. You gazed into the orbs which were focused on you, as they flicked from your eyes, down to your lips, and back to your eyes again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening, in all your grief from tonight’s events. Time seemed to stop as he hovered right in front of you, his warm breath gently tickling your face. Your breath caught as you felt his soft lips press against yours, the flesh melting into each other with each passing moment. The kiss was wet as your tears continued to stream down your face.

It was suddenly all a flurry of movement as you found yourself on the couch, Seungmin hovering over you as he continued to hurriedly kiss you. It was a moment of passion, your tongue tangling with his, as his hands grasped at your dress, hiking the fabric up and over your waist.

You spread your legs more, so he could slot himself more comfortably between them. There was a flurry of more fabric rustling, as Seungmin tried to remove his pants, his leaking cock springing free from its confines.

You gasped out, as he pushed into you, his cock stretching your little hole, causing you to tremble from both the pleasure and pain. Seungmin did not wait for you to accommodate to the stretch as he began to thrust his hips hard and fast into yours, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He eyes raked over your face, taking in how your eyes were wide and mouth parted as he coaxed out little “oh, oh, ohs.”

He felt like he was on cloud nine, finally being able to have you, to have his cock buried deep within the woman he has always loved. Seungmin shuddered as he felt you clench around him, your pussy sucking him in, keeping him within the expanse of your warm walls.

You clutched onto his arms, bringing him closer to you to attach his lips to yours. With a few more strokes, you tipped over the edge, the warm feeling spreading throughout your core and body, your arousal dripping steadily, coating Seungmin's cock with your white, sticky arousal. You let out a low moan as you felt Seungmin's cock twitch within you, as he filled you up with his cum, marking you as his.

As you both came down from your highs, Seungmin whispered “I love you,” pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

You grinned and chuckled as you grasped his face repeating “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You both laid there for what felt like forever, clutched in each other's arms, Seungmin's now softened cock still buried within you. The shadows from the fire danced on the walls, as the sun finally laid to rest, the moon finally making it's full appearance.

You couldn't get enough of the man above you, feeling his cock once again harden within you. You longed to feel the beat of his heart against your chest as you pulled him closer, his head buried in the crook of your neck as he slowly rocked into you. Time passes slowly and sweetly, your breath mixing with his moans, as he brought you both closer to yet another orgasm. You came with a sigh and his name on your lips as Seungmin whimpered, releasing his load within you.

You continued to profess your love for each other, whispering sweet nothings in the silence of the cottage until that silence was broken by a series of loud bangs on your door.

You both startled at the noise, panic taking over at what it could mean...or worse who it could be. You thought the townspeople had finally made it to your cottage, ready to take you in. Seungmin quickly got up, fixing his pants as he made his way to the door.

You sat up and straightened your dress, not caring at the sticky substance leaking and coating your thighs, as terror filled you as you watched him walk to the door. As he threw it open, you noticed three people at the door, dressed in what seemed like an official uniform, donned in thick midnight blue coats, the signal of the council of witches pinned to the lapel.

“Seungmin the familiar?” One of the men asked, his tone gruff.

“Yes?” Seungmin responded.

“You are in contempt of the law of the ancients. We have to take you in. Please come with us peacefully."

You sat confused, not understanding what was occurring in front of you. Your mind was churning, trying to remember the law your mother made to instill in you, the content sounding familiar. Your thoughts were interrupted however, as you watched two of the men roughly place Seungmin’s hands behind his back, fastening them together with a spell.

You screamed as they roughly fastened his hands, as they kicked him in the abdomen over and over, pain littering Seungmin's face as he coughed and breathed in, trying to let the air in that was just knocked out.

You screamed ‘What are you doing’ as you tried to go to your familiar, best friend, and lover. The other man who was overseeing it all, stopped you in your tracks, grabbing your wrist before pushing you hard to where you fell backwards and onto the hard floor. You winced at the pain, watching in horror as they continued to beat Seungmin in front of you, torturing him without mercy. You felt useless, unable to help the man you love as you scooted up to watch the horror.

What hurt you the most was when they brought out a contraption, placing it on his skin directly on his signet, signaling that he was your familiar. Pressing a button, a silver laser jetted out, the flash of light striking Seungmin's skin. You watched as Seungmin cried out in pain, the area on his chest dripping blood immediately upon the touch of the laser.

You let out a blood curdling scream, as white, hot pain seared through your body. You felt more tears trickle down your face as you attempted to look at your wrist. The skin where your signet had been was red and raw at the rough removal. Your signet was gone. Seungmin was no longer your familiar.

You screamed in agony at the pain in your heart, but also the physical pain, your eyes never leaving Seungmin’s. You watched in horror as they dragged him away, his feet dragging through the dirt. He left a trail of blood in his wake, his chest still bleeding.

You watched as Seungmin tried to say something, his lips moving, trying to form syllables. At the last moment, you were able to finally make out ‘I love you.’ You let out another sob as they dragged the only man you’ve ever trusted, ever loved, ever given yourself completely to out of your cottage into the street beyond.

You knew nothing good was in store for Seungmin. Your heart somehow knew you would never see him again. You sat in tears, broken and in pain as you tried to wrap your mind around what had just occurred. You didn’t have long to ponder, as another mob was making its way to your door.

The townspeople had gathered, their pitch forks and torches in hand as they screamed insults at you. Your mind slowly shut down as you heard

‘Dirty witch!’ ‘Evil spawn!” ‘Murderer!’

You surrendered completely, broken and in pain, as two townspeople grabbed your arms and dragged you away, down the path, and into town. You surrendered as they threw you in a cell, locking the door and throwing away the key so you could await your judgement.

None of this mattered however. Seungmin was gone from your life and your fate didn’t seem so bright. You laid down on the hard ground, using your hands as a pillow as you once more thought about where you went wrong. Suddenly you remembered the teachings from your mother, her gentle voice reminding you of the law of ancients.

‘Familiars and Witches may never be. If ever a familiar were to break there bonds of servitude by falling in love with a witch and sealing said love, the punishment be removal of being said familiar and ultimately death.’

Your heart ached at the implications, knowing you both broke the law of the witches, sealing your love with your familiar. The tears stained your face, your wails loud as you mourned your actions. You tore at your hair, scratched your arms in anguish.

You knew fate was sealed however, when you felt an odd feeling, like your heart had been cut in two. A stillness passed over you as you sat in the corner of your cell. You felt numb, your only reason for living gone from this world.

You didn’t care as you heard footsteps down the hall. You didn’t care as a man stopped in front of your cell. You didn’t care as he unlocked the door and dragged you away. You didn’t care as you walked into the bright sunlight, the light hurting your eyes. You didn’t care as you noticed the platform in front of you.

You felt your love grow stronger however, as you looked to the sky, the stars numerous and bright. You knew Seungmin was there with you, standing by your side. You knew you would both be together eternally, either on this plane or elsewhere. You smiled, despite what was to come. You felt light on your feet, your soul peaceful and calm.

You’d see him soon.

And in the end that’s all that matters.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @seungfl0wer @velvetmoonlght

[loaksky]

— 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒖𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆 | 𝒂. 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏

emt!abby x clumsy fem!reader, fluff / angst / smut (mdni!), wc: 8.8k (abby makes me ill).

synopsis: abby’s recuperating from a rocky relationship. tending to you more than once has gotta be fate.

content warnings: language, 18+ content (MDNI!): fingering (abby & reader receiving), oral (abby receiving), standard emotional constipation, non-graphic depictions of injuries / blood. let me know if i miss anything! not proofread well!

tagging those who interacted with my interest post! @eden-nox , @feeeeebbb , @thecowardwrites , @dawn-bunni , @dykefromstatefarm , @kingofcrabs17 , @deadliebalboa , @caitlinisfruity , @matchabxba , @abbysidechick

main masterlist | tlou masterlist

THE FIRST TIME ABBY TENDS TO YOU is an embarrassing circumstance all its own. And not necessarily because you’d hurt yourself, but because of one meddling little sibling in particular.

It’s nearly 2am in the morning, a little brisk outside of the apartment complex, and Abby’s trailing behind her rotation partners up three rickety flights of stairs.

“Seattle EMS!”

The door’s flying open and a frantic girl no older than fifteen is ushering the trio in the apartment.

“It’s my sister,” she says quickly. “She cut her hand with a knife. Won’t stop bleeding.”

Abby’s observing her surroundings, eyes flitting around the space as they file quickly down the hallway, walls neatly littered with polaroids, picture frames, and various other decorations and knickknacks.

As they spill into the living room, Abby’s eyes settle on you, sitting on the coffee table in nothing but an oversized tee and some boyshorts.

There are tiny smears of red across your thighs, right hand applying pressure to your left palm with a wad of paper towels. One look at your face shows draining color and Abby’s setting the duffel on the floor.

“Need her rate and blood pressure,” one of her partners says. “Anderson, can you assess the damage?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Abby says, kneeling in front of you.

She swears she feels a jolt of electricity pass through her nitrile gloves when her fingertips brush your skin. You’re shaky, eyes droopy because you’ve never been great with blood.

“I’m gonna take a look,” Abby says softly, coaxing the paper towels away from you. “That okay?”

You nod, hair falling into your face as she turns your palm over to analyze the wound.

“Sheesh,” she whispers. “What’d you do?”

When you’re silent for a moment, warmth momentarily returning to your cheeks as embarrassment floods your system, Abby’s eyes swing to your younger sister who’s seemingly clocked the considerable tension between you and the hot EMT.

“We were making brownies,” she fills in helpfully. “Big sis was chopping up the nuts.”

One of Abby’s partners chuckles, the one filling out the paperwork, and Abby glances at you again, something niggling in the pit of her stomach when she sees the flustered way you bite your lip.

“Personally not a fan of nuts in my brownies, but that’s a hill I’ll die on.”

Abby’s trying to distract you, take your mind away from a the gnarly gash cut deep in your palm line. It works, she thinks, when you crack a small smile.

“Me neither,” you agree, and it’s the first words you say all night.

Your voice has a sweet rasp, one that makes Abby’s gut twist.

“Guess this means nuts really are a no go,” you say, hissing momentarily when Abby makes start with cleaning your wound.

For a moment she forgets you’re talking about brownies and your little sister’s searing gaze should be confirmation enough, but after gathering all of your important information and spending the next forty-five minutes cleaning you up, Abby’s being stopped in her tracks as they file out of the cramped living room.

Your little sister catches her as the two other techs swing into the third floor hallway.

“My big sis is gay, FYI,” she giggles mischievously. “Like real gay.”

You call her name, absolutely horrified.

Abby can’t help the smile that splits her face.

“Mmm, good to know.”

You’d barely recovered from that moment, still reeling nearly a week later after your failed sleepover party with your little sister that ended in the hottest tech seeing you in the worst condition possible.

And while you thank every force above that Abby hadn’t seemed too perturbed by your sibling’s antics, it’s still something that makes you rub the heel of your palms into your eyes and kick your feet in annoyance before bed.

But just when you think you’re finally getting over it, you cross paths again.

Fate has a cruel way of flexing its humor because you’re turning an especially crowded corner in the freezer section of Whole Foods when your toe catches the corner display.

“Shit!” you hiss, basket clattering to the floor.

Your jar of extra garlic-y marinara is rolling away and a few of your lemons are scattering between avoidant feet.

“Hey, you alright?”

And you’ve heard that voice before, familiar hum haunting your dreams for the past week and a half.

You look up just as the body associated with the voice crouches in front of you, pasta sauce in one hand and trio of lemons in the other.

Of course it’s Abby in all of her glory. Her hair is loosened from her braid, falling over her broad shoulders as she searches your face. She’s in her work polo, few buttons undone and belt somewhat loosened.

Something akin to recognition flashes over her features as she takes you in.

“Thanks,” you whisper when she rights your basket and carefully sets the runaway items inside.

“You’re always hurting yourself,” she teases, standing to her full height before offering her hand out to you.

For a moment you were caught up, so engrossed in seeing Abby again like a direct manifestation of your very fears (and a wet dream or two), that you hadn’t noticed that people were staring.

Your face is hot as your fingers brush her palm and she’s hoisting you up like you weigh nothing. When you shift your weight to the foot you’d tripped on, your face screws up in discomfort.

Abby’s scarily perceptive, equal parts because it comes with the job even when she’s off duty, and also because it’s you. She doesn’t know what’s so different about you, especially because she hasn’t bat an eye at another girl in the past seven months since her previous break-up, but she can’t take her eyes off of you. She’s certain her pupils are blown wide by now.

“Does it hurt?” she asks, steadying you with warm hands.

Abby has to force herself to glance up at you when she happens to notice the way your chest hitches, pendant on the dainty chain that rests between the divot of your collarbones glinting under the fluorescents.

“A little,” you admit.

Abby doesn’t hesitate to take your basket alongside hers and offers you a perfectly sculpted arm.

God you could actually combust, not only because you’re beyond embarrassed but because Abby’s too fucking hot for her own good.

“Easy,” she tells you as you move through the aisles slowly.

She’s guiding you to a quiet corner in the foodcourt, setting you gently against the bench before plopping down next to you.

Your lips part to thank her, tell her that you’ll just rest here for a moment before going about your day, but she’s lifting your leg into her lap and undoing the strap of your sandal wordlessly.

“Oh—”

Her gaze swings to yours.

“Gotta get a better look,” she tells you with an easy smile, fingers gentle around your ankle.

She starts rolling, testing your range of motion. When your expression pinches, she’s rummaging through her basket, only to produce a frozen bag of peas a few moments later.

“Doesn’t look like any bruising is forming and you’ve got your full range of motion,” she observes. “Just a rolled ankle. Nothing some ice won’t fix.”

You stare at her unblinking, nodding stupidly as she applies a slight amount of pressure with the frozen vegetables.

“I, ah—” you let out a low hiss and Abby shouldn’t lick her lips, but her mouth’s dry and the skin of your legs are like butter. “I think I’ll be okay.”

The concern that shades Abby’s features makes you squirm on the bench, ankle still propped in her lap.

“Did you drive?” Abby presses, and she knows that this is a bad idea.

The two of you could be on your way, paths officially untangling, but something inside of her is compelled, tugged hard at the sight of you.

“No…” you trail off sheepishly. “I walked.”

Abby’s lips part, words escaping her before she can stop and think twice.

“I’ll walk you home,” she offers.

“Oh, Abby, you don’t have to do that,” you say gently.

It’s like someone squeezes the air from her lungs at the sound of her name leaving your lips in a rasped hum, makes her wet her lips again because her mouth’s gone dry.

“You’re probably really busy, I don’t want to be a bother,” you add with a soft smile.

“You wouldn’t be,” she assures you. “Just wanna make sure you make it home safe.”

And it’s such a sweet sentiment, one that makes warmth bloom in your chest and your tummy. But there’s a dull ache, a squeeze that makes your thighs involuntarily press together. It’s barely perceptible and you hope to whatever’s in the universe that Abby’s not keen when it comes to body language.

The planes of her face are serious, bump on the bridge of her nose pronounced as you watch the set of her jaw. Fuck, did you want her bad, feel embarrassment creeping because if anyone nearby could intercept your brain, they’d find a slew of less than appropriate thoughts accompanying the more tame.

Without another word, Abby’s hooking your sandal back on, patting your shin gently before setting you right and gathering the combination of your groceries and hers.

You make a move to follow her, but she levels you with a warning glare.

“Stay put,” she urges. “I’ll take care of it.”

“But, Abby—” you splutter.

Your name is stern on her lips and another dull ache ebbs as she stands over you in her uniform, muscles stretching the fabric taut.

She’s off a moment later and after what seems like an eternity waiting almost helplessly, Abby returns with a few paper bags. She’s stuffing the receipt in her pocket and your expression shifts, lips pursing.

“How much do I owe you?” you ask as soon as she offers her elbow to you.

“Don’t worry about it,” she quips, body tensing in the slightest as she acclimates all over again to the feeling of you clinging to her. “Now let’s get you home.”

“Abby!” you whine, drawing her name out petulantly.

It’s so domestic, all of it. Carrying your groceries with your arms looped through hers and the two of you strolling down the sidewalk to accommodate your hurt foot.

“What?” she mocks, and you can’t help but smile.

“You’ll be late for work,” you say softly, unable to stop the passing observation of how sturdy she feels against you.

“I’m off.”

And something like relief, excitement, jolts at the thought. Makes you hush the rest of the way to your apartment building like the courage is still brewing.

The middle-aged woman that sits at her desk in the lobby and plays Candy Crush half of shift pauses to spare the two of you a passing glance as you walk in, eyebrows raising and lips twitching.

“Afternoon, Marianne,” you greet sheepishly.

“Good afternoon,” she parrots, rolling her lips to hide the amused grin threatening to spread.

Abby is none-the-wiser as her eyes flit around the lobby in search for the elevators.

The ride up ends up being shrouded in total silence save for the whirring of the lift’s gears and your shallow breaths. For a moment, Abby wonders if she’s overstepped. If she’s made you uncomfortable and read all the signs wrong.

As the two of you approach your door, the very one her and her coworkers had banged on a little over a week ago, she’s trying to come up with the words to apologize, tell you that she really just wanted to make sure you were okay.

(Even though she’ll only ever admit to herself that perhaps part of it was self-indulgent and the softness of your skin was like a high).

But you’re beating her to it, untangling to shift your weight to your uninjured foot and turning to face her.

“Do you…” You swallow and blink once, then twice, gathering the rest of your courage. “Do you wanna come in?”

Oh— Abby hadn’t been expecting that. She’d been expecting you to fumble with your groceries and close the door in her face for good. But now you’re looking up at her through thick lashes and a shy grin and all she can think to herself in this moment is that she’s a goner.

“I’m making dinner,” you add. “If you’d like to stay.”

Another slice of domesticity that has Abby’s wires crossing.

“Sure,” she agrees easily, and it takes everything inside of her not to teem with too much excitement when you turn to slot your key into the lock and the door springs open.

Your apartment is just how she remembers it from the little details she’d picked up the last time she was here. That same scent of lemons and what she thinks could be incense. Though it’d felt a little out of line, unprofessional to be too engrossed in her surroundings the first time, especially when her eyes caught a particularly suggestive photo among the wall hosting polaroids.

You’re with a group of girl friends, bent over in a too short skirt so that the swell of your ass is pressed to the girl in the center’s front. The shot gives a perfect eyeful of your cleavage in a tiny little triangle bikini top and the cherry on top is the pair of red cat-eye glasses sliding down the bridge of your nose as you wink at whoever is behind the camera.

You pause at the end of the hallway when you notice Abby’s no longer close behind.

“Looks like somebody knows how to have a good time,” she observes jokingly, but her cheeks are so incredibly warm because christ you’re beautiful.

You’re sheepish.

“Definitely retired from that life,” you tell her, and she notes that the neat sharpie dates back nearly six summers ago. “Now I like to bake with my little sister and injure myself.”

Abby can’t help the smile when you start gazing at all the other polaroids tacked into a heart formation on the crisp white walls.

“You seem like the life of the party,” Abby says, eyes lingering on another polaroid of you in what seems to be a dorm room with a joint pinched between your fingers, sporting a feather boa, a paper crown that says ‘birthday girl’ and those same red sunglasses.

You huff out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t say that...”

She wonders if she’ll see that side of you. So far you seem so quiet, reserved. It makes her want to peel away the layers and learn you.

The thought makes her blink hard.

“Kitchen’s this way,” you say after a few moments pass, turning on your heel to pad down the hall and swing left.

Light pours from where you flip the switch to the kitchen’s fluorescents.

Abby finds that the living room and kitchen is far tidier than the last time she’d been here, obviously cleaned after the entire baking debacle with your little sister.

My big sis is gay, like real gay. The words were like a subtle push. One that made Abby weigh the potential.

She’s setting the paper bags on the counter, making a move to go through the bags to help you put the groceries away, but your hands close over hers, slightly smaller and warm as you halt her movements.

“You’ve done enough for me,” you say, smile crooked. “Make yourself at home.”

And the household phrase is so cliche, but makes a split second reel of what making herself fully at home entails. She’d never admit it out loud, but part of it is bending you over the kitchen island.

She swallows the lump in her throat as you limp around the kitchen.

“You should rest your foot,” she says.

Your smile widens.

“I’m okay,” you assure her.

She leans against the counter, watching as you file everything in its rightful place. The muscles in her face involuntarily twitch when you stand up on your tip toes to throw a box of cereal on top of the fridge.

Your ass looks absolutely edible in your jeans and the low cut of your top shows the way your shoulder blades contract.

Definitely doesn’t help her blooming kitchen fantasies.

“You want something to drink?” you offer.

“Just water, please,” Abby clears her throat, gaze snapping up to meet the gaze you throw over your shoulder.

And she has to use the cute little glass you give her as a lifeline, nearly crushing the frosted green glass to bits multiple times over the course of you prepping dinner and the actual thing.

Because not only are you wickedly witty in a way that’s easily overlooked, but you’re phenomenal in the kitchen. Nearly drools watching you cut through your produce while chattering happily about growing up on the west coast and your college years.

You work through the building heat to set a painted ceramic dish piled high with pasta that Abby absolutely devours with nearly as much fervor as she likes to think she would you.

“Good?” you ask hopefully, leaning forward on your elbows.

“Better than good,” Abby says eagerly. “Great, fantastic.”

“Yay,” you cheer pure-heartedly and she could melt. Especially when she polishes off the plate and you sit up straight. “More?”

She easily agrees just for the sake of watching you.

“You should, uh—” You scratch the back of your neck nervously as she continues eating. “You should stop by again. If you, y’know, wanna…I cook a lot and there’s usually a lot left over.”

Abby could scream in excitement. She’s one intrusive thought away from reaching over the island to squish your cheeks and tell you that there’s literally nothing else in the world she’d wanna do than to see you again. Instead she forces her composure with an easy smile.

“I’d really like that.”

And the way she sits back in her seat, legs obviously spreading under the surface to stretch has you wiggling uncomfortably. The last few buttons of her polo have come undone, exposing a freckled expanse of skin that you’d love to sink your teeth into, and somehow, sometime while your back had been turned, she’d opted for undoing the rest of her loosening braid to throw it into a topknot.

The tension is palpable, thick enough to choke, and at times, as the two of you chat over the kitchen island, it has you stumbling over your words.

Even more so when you walk her to the door at half past ten. She’s leaning against the doorframe like she doesn’t want to leave, and truthfully, you don’t want her to. Want to spend as much time as you can caught up.

“I’ll call you?” you bite the bullet despite the tremor in your fingertips.

Abby nods, arm banded around her paper bag of groceries, a tupperware of leftovers nestled on the top.

“Yeah, please,” she hums.

And there’s one final moment of tension that clings between the two of you as she kicks off the doorframe and you close the door, back pressed against the wood.

After that night, the lines you dance blur impossibly. Always a will she, won’t she that seems to equally frustrate the two of you for vastly different reasons unbeknownst to the other.

You because you can’t get a read on Abby, always teetering over a steep edge trying to get her to bite your advances. But you know, know that there’s something there. Abby because she’s given more and more reason to fall into you with every passing moment, but can’t seem to take the plunge, entirely too freshly single to think about another commitment that could fail and leave her already mending heart beyond repair.

And she knows it isn’t fair, especially when the tension both romantic and sexual is absolutely brimming. You’re nothing like the partners she’s been with before, especially not her last girlfriend who was practically your polar opposite. You were gentle, sweet, funny. Good at practically anything you could get your hands on.

But something stalls her, keeps her from diving headfirst despite late nights laying on your living room floor talking about things both minute and infinite, cooking with you in the snugness of your tiny kitchen, even inviting you to outings with friends and vice versa.

So you take the plunge instead, one Saturday evening weeks after your first meeting, after spending long swathes of time tangled in each other’s presence.

You’re at a bar with her and her friends, slight buzz giving you the smallest nudge of confidence to cling to her arm. And god does Abby look good tonight, especially so, in a dark button up and fitted pants. She’s got her hair down, tickles your cheek when you nuzzle against her shoulder.

Her friends’ eyes are inquisitive, curious because touches between the two of you rarely linger for longer than a few moments, but you’ve been glued to her side all night. She doesn’t say anything though, doesn’t shrug you off, even wraps an arm around your shoulder when you return from the restroom.

So with a few more drinks and a little more liquid courage, you’re toeing a little over the line. You’ve pushed her hair over her shoulders, pressing your lips experimentally to the skin behind her ear. It’s a sensation that has her freezing up almost imperceptibly, but you can tell with the way her muscles grow taut under your fingers.

“What’re you doing, angel?” Abby asks quietly, span of her large palm gripping your thigh.

“Nothin’,” you hum, nose bumping her ear.

She breathes out a hollow laugh, tries to turn her attention to her friends who are obviously trying to ignore your displays of affection. But then your lips are brushing with more force against her collar and she’s sliding out of the stuffy booth to get some air.

Her resolve is obviously crumbling, even more so when she stands at the bar waiting for the next round of drinks and your arm bands around her waist, the other flattening below her belly button. When your pinkie slides beneath her belt buckle, she’s pushing off the counter.

And for a moment you think you’ve upset her when she gathers all the stout glasses and winds through the crowd to return to the booth you’d previously occupied.

You barely make it to the back of the bar when she’s emerging from the bodies and grabbing you roughly by the bicep.

“Abby—”

Her lips are slotting yours before you can apologize, and she tastes like cherries and liquor. Her arms wind around your waist, one hand on the small of your back, the other grabbing a handful of your ass.

“Abs,” you whisper breathlessly, unable to feel any embarrassment for taking up a high traffic aisle as she bites your bottom lip.

“Your place or mine?” she asks, voice gravelly. “Because you started something that I’m gonna need you to finish, princess.”

And your knees are jelly the entire trek to your apartment, insides liquid and tummy fluttering because a warmth has begun to pool in your panties. The way Abby can’t keep her hands off you through the elevator ride up makes it all the worse.

“You’re such a fuckin’ tease, y’know that?” she hisses in your ear as you miss the keyhole a few times. “For the last six weeks all you’ve done is toy with me and—”

Her breath hitches when she presses her front to your back and slides her hand up the skirt of your backless sundress to feel the stickiness forming between the plush of your thighs.

When you finally force the door open, Abby’s kicking off her shoes and her fingers are making work of her top buttons. You’re quick to swivel on your heel, shoving her roughly against the front door to push up on your tiptoes and pepper kisses over the curve of her jaw.

“Me?” you huff petulantly, an uncharacteristic gleam in your eye as your fingers are deft on her belt buckle. You unbutton her dress pants. “You waltz in here all the time looking so…so…fuckable.”

Abby nearly chokes on her breath.

“And you try to play coy, but I see right through you, Abby,” you say in such a gooey tone. She throws her head back and moans. “I see the way you look at me. The little things you do. You’re not subtle Anderson.”

And that’s new. Calling her by her last name.

Your hand’s down the front of her pants, under her boxers and you feel it. How wet she is. Feel the slick between her folds as you circle her clit.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathes, lips parted as she takes the sight of you in.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you sigh, biting your bottom lip as you stare up at her.

She nods eagerly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hum.

Her hands come up to cup your cheeks, leaning down to steal a few kisses before her hand’s wrapping around your wrist and pulling you from her heat.

“Open,” she barks, guiding your fingers to your lips.

You do so without argument, the taste of Abby making your eyes hood.

You make a noise in the back of your throat, and Abby’s walking you back towards your bedroom.

“You wanna make me feel good?” she asks, back of her knees hitting the edge of your mattress. She’s got you situated between her legs, shucking off her top and shimmying her trousers and boxers off in one go. “Then get to work.”

She’s spreading her legs, gaze locked as you lower until you’re eye level with her cunt. The pale moonlight that filters the window making it absolutely glisten.

You’re kissing the skin of her inner thighs, hands on her knees as you glance up at her, only find her with her bottom lip tucked harshly between pearly teeth.

“Want you bad,” you admit breathily, biting the taut skin before laving at it with the flat of your tongue.

All you receive is a shaky breath, seemingly knocking the words straight from her lips.

“Nothing?” you taunt, biting the other side.

Abby’s opening her mouth to say something snarky, but your lips are on her clit and your middle finger’s sliding in with ease.

“Jesus, fuck,” she whispers breathlessly.

And you’re smug as you eat her out, vibration of your moans rumbling through her core when she threads her fingers through your hair and tugs ‘til the tension in your scalp stings deliciously.

“Shitshitshit,” she chokes when you add another finger.

Under normal circumstances, she’d be embarrassed when her body locks up and her legs shake after what seems like only mere moments, but after she comes down and the fog clears, she’s wiping that smirk off your pretty face.

The sight is one to see, Abby leaned against your headboard with your back plastered to her front. The skirt of your dress is scrunched around your waist, flimsy straps knocked from your shoulders.

She’s merciless, thick fingers plugging you full.

“Ah, Abby,” you hiss, hand wrapping around her wrist.

“Can’t get over how tight you are.” She bites your earlobe. “You can barely take two.”

As testament, she stuffs you deeper. The squelch is downright filthy, your arousal pooling down your slit and onto the sheets. For a moment Abby’s pulling her digits from your heat, spreading her fingers in front of your face to show you the stringy strands of clear that web her knuckles.

“See that, princess? See how wet you are?” she teases, other hand taking a palmful of your tits while her mouth maps each blemish and mark with kisses across your shoulders and neck.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this,” she husks. “Wish you could see how pretty you look.”

You throw your head back, chest heaving as her fingers curl inside the spongy walls of your cunt and applies such a toe-curling pressure against the spot that has you seeing stars. It makes your back arch, knees twitching against the legs that Abby uses to keep your thighs spread.

“You gonna cum, pretty girl?” she whispers, blowing air against the shell of your ear as her ministrations grow sloppy.

You nod quickly, body tensing.

“M’gonna fuckin’ cum,” you whimper, “Please, Abs, don’t stop. I’m—”

Abby could cum all over again when your chest pushes forward into her hold, head lolling back against her shoulder as you let out a pitched whine that sounds a lot like her name.

“Fuck!” you swallow, falling slack against her sticky skin as you gush.

Her other hand drops to your clit, lazy circles making your pussy clench around the fingers still stuffed inside.

“That’s right, princess,” she huffs. “Cream all over my fingers.”

Your breaths stutter, pussy clenching as you let out a needy little moan.

“So good,” she praises. “Such a good girl.”

And you’re absolutely boneless, head knocking gently against hers as you push further into her chest. You feel her weight shift as she reaches, then the gentle feeling of her cleaning you up despite sleepy overstimulated protests.

It’s warm in your room as Abby slinks down the pillows and pulls the covers up. Her chin rests on top of your head as you cozy up to her, mumbling about how much you like her and how you’ve waited for such a moment.

You don’t remember the last thing you say before you doze off.

Abby does, though.

It keeps her up the entire night. Has her eyes blown wide as she stares up at the ceiling and the weight of the evening dawns on her.

Always wanna be with you. You’re my person.

And she doesn’t know how it’d gotten to this point. How did she let herself get so entangled with you? She’d always been aware that there’d been something there, that she was crushing and was almost a hundred percent sure you reciprocated, but this was far more than she’d anticipated.

It’s a step away from the ‘l’ word, and she’s not so sure it’s something she’s willing to fall into.

So Abby does what she does when she’s scared and she’s running. She’s replacing herself with your pillow as the sun comes up, heart squeezing when your cheek nuzzles against the fabric and your lips part to blow a breath.

She’s dressing as she makes her way to the front door, takes a final look at the polaroid wall that stares back at her as she tugs her shoes on, and slips out of the apartment building into the chilly Seattle air.

You’d been prepared for a lot of things growing up and into yourself. Had learned to swallow the bitter side of sweet, but nothing could have prepared you for the splintering feeling of Abby’s absence.

You wake up a few hours after she leaves, naked and hugging one of your pillows. The apartment is eerily silent as you wait in stillness for any signs that she’s just an early riser.

There’s no shower running, no clattering in the kitchen, no shuffling in the hall. And when you survey your surroundings, comforter wrapped around your shoulders, you suck in a deep breath.

Maybe she has work.

It’s a futile attempt to rationalize the situation, but you know Abby. Know that she’d leave a note, maybe a text, or—

You scramble for your phone, but deflate when you find a notification to water your virtual plant. For good measure, you open her text thread, but all that stares back at you is the confirmation that she was picking you up the night prior.

“Oh, Abby,” you whisper to yourself, something like sickness making your stomach twist.

The cursor blinks, keyboard clicking as you type and retype anything that’ll confirm that maybe you’re just being paranoid, reading into things too much.

So you settle on good morning 💘.

It’s almost instantaneous.

Read at 7:47am.

It takes a little under two weeks for Abby to surface again. Not without ample prodding. You’re a communicator, she realizes, as she sits outside of Jo’s Coffee and stares down at the string of texts from you over the past week and a half.

pretty girl: good morning 💘

pretty girl: have a good day at work

pretty girl: i made dinner if you wanna stop by

pretty girl: can i swing by the station with lunch?

pretty girl: just want you to know that i’m thinking of you

pretty girl: meet for coffee? wanna see you.

pretty girl: text me whenever you’re comfortable, i’ll leave you alone til you’re ready 💗

That final text is what makes her crack. Makes the guilt eat away at her. So she messages you when her shift is over.

me: jo’s at 4

pretty girl liked ‘jo’s at 4’

She looks up when the chair across from her scrapes against the concrete. You drop into the seat, fresh-faced and obviously newly showered. But she can see it in your eyes, the bags that puff like you’ve been crying.

And you have, even if you won’t admit it, because Abby’s the closest thing you’ve felt to what love could be like and these past two weeks have been agonizing as you try to pick apart every single facet of your situationship with her.

“How are you?” you ask, giving her a weak smile over the table.

“Good,” Abby lies, but you don’t see through her poker face and it stings, thinking that she’d been so unaffected by all of this.

You nod, fiddling with the fake leaves of the center piece.

“I missed you,” you admit shakily.

And fuck, did Abby miss you too, but she can’t find it in herself to face her fears head on. So she just nods, biting the inside of her lip.

“Didn’t miss me?” you tease, trying to make light of the situation.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” Abby cuts to the chase, words leaving her lips like a shot that echos in the night.

It makes your ears ring, your brows furrowing as your lips twitch into a frown. Abby braces herself, knows what a brewing argument feels like. It’s sick to say that it’s familiarity, that sharp words and hoarse voices are a norm.

But you just shrink in your seat.

“Why?” you whisper.

Abby sucks in a deep breath.

“You don’t remember what you told me?” she asks like an accusation.

You blink.

“You told me that you wanted to be with me. That I’m your person,” she says.

And you wonder what’s so wrong with that. Especially when you’ve spent two months glued, when you were so sure it was mutual.

“I do,” you affirm softly. “You are.”

Abby squeezes her eyes shut, shakes her head.

“I’m not—” She clears her throat. “I don’t want a girlfriend. I don’t need the distraction. Especially not now with work and my personal life.”

Ouch. That had hurt, Abby calling her time with you and any subsequent moments nothing more a distraction.

“Oh.”

She doesn’t know why your response frustrates her, makes annoyance pinch the back of her brain as she takes you in, but it does. Full force.

“We’re better off as friends,” Abby says. “It’s easier, it’s—”

“Friends don’t fuck each other, Abby,” you say simply, and the calmness in your tone makes her upset.

She’s used to the shouting, to the arguing and being at each other’s throats in conversations like these. But you never fail to amaze her as you keep your composure.

“I have no intention of sleeping with you again,” she says stonily. “That night was mistake. I hadn’t been with someone in months and you were giving me attention and—”

In her frustration with the entire conversation, she hadn’t realized that tears were pooling in your eyes. That you were trying not to cry.

Her face softens when she notices.

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“You what?” you murmur. “What were these past three months, Abby?”

“I dunno,” Abby sighs in annoyance. “Two people enjoying each other’s company? We were drunk and—"

You simply nod, knuckling away the brimming tears before shrugging your bag over your shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Abby sighs when you stand.

“Home,” you answer quietly. “Whatever. Let’s just forget any of this ever happened.”

She grabs your arm over the table, opening her mouth to apologize again, but you’re shaking her off.

“Take care of yourself,” you tell her.

The days blur like the edges of a muddy watercolor.

You start to think that things could look up, that maybe Abby was put in your life for some reason you’ll uncover in the future. But the universe can be so cruel sometimes, knows exactly what to do to shatter the broken pieces you’d tried so hard to glue together.

It comes in the form of a night out nearly a month after you’d last seen Abby. She made no additional efforts, just left you wondering if you’d imagined it all, and your friends are especially tired of your moping.

It’s a surprise!

And you’re not really one for surprises. Especially not now, but they’re dragging you out, carting you across town. Your stomach sinks to your ass when you see the familiar neon lights. Feel your chest tighten on the trek up the stairs to the same bar that preluded your spiral.

You could throw up when you’re situated in a booth with your friends and you glance at the bar by chance.

Abby’s leaned against the counter top, looking as good as ever, but she’s not alone. There’s a girl that hangs off her shoulder, skin umber and eyes warm. She makes no moves to distance herself and you don’t know why you feel the anger begin to sizzle. Abby hadn’t been yours in the first place.

“What do you wanna drink?” one of your friends asks.

“Nothing,” you answer stiffly.

She follows your gaze to the countertop, sees the way your eyes burn.

You’d kept your situation with Abby private, didn’t want to jeopardize such a potentially good thing with your well-meaning meddling friends at such a fresh stage. But now that it’s soured, you stare openly.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” she asks, and your avoidance is answer enough. “C’mon, let’s show her what she missed out on.”

As it turns out, it doesn’t seem like much. Because she doesn’t even blink when you sidle up to the counter with your friend, three patrons between the two of you.

You’d always thought the two if you had a sixth sense for the other, but Abby’s oblivious to her surroundings, too engrossed in her drink and the pretty brunette hanging off her shoulder.

One of the bartenders goes up, asks what he can get for the two beautiful ladies, and your ears perk when her voice sounds. Nearly throw up the empty contents of your stomach all over the bar top when you see the way she slings her arm over the girl’s shoulders.

“Another vodka soda for my girl.”

She’s buzzed, you can hear it, but it’s the most sound declaration you’ve heard from her in the time you’ve known her.

You break away from the bar, and you run.

Abby feels like a shell of herself.

She’d gone out over the weekend, celebrating a visit from a close friend from the east coast. And it’d done a good job of numbing the pain for a little while, of taking her mind off of you.

But it’s Tuesday, the first day of her rotation this week and she hates that this feels worse than her previous break-up despite the unlabeled status of your relationship. You hadn’t even put up a fight, just took her rejection in stride.

It makes her feel infinitely worse, knowing you didn’t have it in you.

She doesn’t even realize she’s spaced out in front of the drink coolers of the convenience store after her shift when a voice snaps her out of it.

“S’cuse me.”

And she knows that voice. It’d been her greenlight all those nights ago.

Your little sister is brushing past her, going straight for the Body Armors and Gatorade. She must feel the way Abby stares because she’s side-eyeing the older girl from her post.

“Oh, it’s you,” she says, turning her nose up in the air.

Abby swallows.

“Hey to you too,” she says hesitantly.

Your little sister humphs, snatching the golden berry flavor and a yellow Gatorade. Abby takes a moment to glance at her basket, sees fever medicine and Tylenol among other things like instant ramen and Vitamin C gummies.

“Are you sick?” she asks.

Your little sister’s face screws up in annoyance.

“No, but my big sis is,” she says matter-of-factly.

That information makes Abby’s heart sink.

“She alright?” she asks carefully.

“She’s seen better days no thanks to you.”

And on a normal day, Abby would laugh because your little sister is witty, just like you. Can see where she gets it from. But right now, all she can imagine is you bed ridden and coughing up a lung.

“I can take a look at her,” Abby offers suddenly. “I—”

“Yeah fucking right,” your sibling scoffs.

Her language stuns Abby and this time she really can’t help but chuckle.

“You think this is funny?” she gripes. “You broke my sister’s heart. She’s been so fuckin’ sad because of you and you’re laughing.”

Abby sobers up quick, shakes her head.

“No, no, that’s not—,” she splitters urgently. “I– I’m laughing ‘cuz you’re just like her.”

Your little sister doesn’t look convinced, uses the back of her hand to wipe her nose as she levels Abby with an unrelenting stare.

“You suck, y’know that?”

“Yeah,” Abby sighs, hands flailing in defeat. “Trust me, I know.”

“And you’re a pussy,” your little sister adds childishly. “I know you really like my sister.”

Abby doesn’t even bother denying it, just stands there with a prepackaged sandwich that pales in comparison to your cooking and a diet soda.

“I do,” she affirms quietly.

“Then do something about it,” she says surprisingly. “My sister’s a catch, the coolest person I know. You’d be the biggest fucking dumbass if you don’t lock her down.”

And her candidness makes Abby crack a smile.

They stand there for a few moments in silence before your little sister is shoving the basket in Abby’s arms and prancing down the aisle.

As soon as Abby’s paid, black plastic bag in her grasp, she finds that your little sister has lingered outside of the convenience store.

She’s shoving a key in her hands.

“She’s too tired to open the door,” she says. “She likes extra lime in her ramen and runny eggs. Also hates swallowing pills so you’ll probably have to crush it up and put it in her water or something.”

“Who’s the EMT here?” Abby grumbles.

Your little sister pins her with a narrowed look.

“Don’t fuck this up Anderson,” she warns. “If Big Sis asks, I took a train to the mall to meet up with my friends.”

And just like that, she flounces away.

You’re asleep when she sneaks into your apartment.

She kicks her shoes off, sets the bag of convenience store goods on the kitchen island before padding through the living room to peek into your room.

Buried under a mound of blankets, just your eyebrows and forehead peek from the top as you snore softly. When she peels the covers away, she not only finds that you’re sweaty and your cheeks are flushed, but you’re wearing her favorite hoodie.

She hadn’t realized she left it here, but seeing you in it has her sinking to her knees by your bedside, chin resting on her bent arm.

“Hi, angel,” she whispers quietly, pushing the sweaty strands of hair from your face. “Missed you.”

You don’t budge, cheek smushed in your pillow as you snooze peacefully. And maybe she shouldn’t have come here, because all it’ll take is you asking her to stay.

She tucks the blanket to your chin, leans forward to press a kiss against your temple.

In the kitchen, she’s only reminded of how much she misses you. Misses this. She’d spent nearly everyday here during your time together. Brushed shoulders with you while you guys cooked together, leaned against the counter while you took extra care plating her food despite her protests of ‘we’re gonna eat it anyways’. You guys frequently laid out on the living room floor, snacking while watching movies, flipping through coffee table books or getting existential.

She’d made so many memories here, made a home out of you.

The thought stirs something emotional inside of her, makes tears prick the corner of her eyes as she rips open the packet of ramen and digs the seasoning sachet out.

Frustration wells as she goes through the motions in your kitchen by herself. Wonders why you had to go and be so fucking wonderful and make her fall for you.

She’s halfway through and angrily brushing her tears away when she hears your door creak open and your voice croak your little sister’s name in question.

When you stand in the doorway of the kitchen, her name is falling from your lips.

“Abby?”

You rub your eyes momentarily and Abby feels like the biggest piece of shit on the planet as you stand there with the hood of her pullover on, Christmas pajama pants and some crew socks.

“Hi,” she breathes.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, bewildered eyes bouncing around the kitchen as you take in your surroundings. The bags under your eyes are swollen, your lips chapped as you fidget in the archway.

“I ran into your sister at the convenience store,” she admits. “She said you were sick.”

“And?” It’s like you can’t fathom the fact that Abby would have any concern for you. Something like anger bubbles at the idea.

“What do you mean and?” Abby asks, eyebrows furrowing. “You’re sick and I… I care about you.”

There’s that normalcy again, that familiar feeling of emotions beginning to reach its boiling point. But she’s not angry at you. Could never be when all you’ve been is perfect to her. And perhaps in the back of her mind that plays the tiniest role, because you’re everything she could ever want, need, but she steady fucks it up every go around.

“Do you?” you whisper.

You look small, defeated, unable to meet her eyes.

“Of course I do, what are—”

“You really hurt me, you know that?” Your breath hitches. “You came into my life like fate, over and over again. Still do apparently. And you— You made me like you more than I’ve ever liked someone in my life. You let me see you, let me fuck you, let me… let me…”

It’s your first real display of heightened emotion. You don’t bother trying to hide your tears, or hide the way Abby’s built you up and ruined you these past four months.

“And then you just left.”

The lump in her throat nearly chokes her breathless.

“I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, y’know?” you continue and Abby’s hands tremble. “That maybe you really just needed the time for yourself, but then I saw you, and—”

“Saw me what?” Abby interjects. “Where?”

“At the bar,” you squeak. “She’s really fucking pretty, and I hope she makes you—”

“What are you talking about?” Abby grills, taking a step towards you.

“If you didn’t want to be with me, if you didn’t feel the way I felt about you, you could have just said that,” you whimper, dashing the tears away in embarrassment. “You didn’t have to make an excuse about not wanting a distraction.”

“I’m so lost right now,” Abby says. “I—”

“I saw you at the bar this weekend,” you tell her straight. “You were with a girl, called her yours.”

And that floors her. She’s almost a hundred percent certain she would’ve felt your presence a mile away, But as you reveal that you’d only been meters away from her, the closest you’ve gotten in weeks, it makes her gut pinch.

She wracks her brain, tries to recall that weekend, tries to think of any woman who’d give you the idea that she’d choose anyone but you.

She draws a blank at first, but then she remembers the bartender’s passing comment.

You and the birthday girl are too sweet.

Abby had fake retched and Nora’d drawn out an exaggerated ewwww as the bartender set the vodka soda before them.

She’d been far too engrossed to realize that you’d been in the vicinity. But she’s not so sure she would’ve done much to take advantage of your presence if she had.

This is her first act of courage in months and she’s falling head first as she crosses the berth between the two of you.

When she stands a few inches away, you look up at her, thick lashes wet and nose snotty. You look like a mess, but Abby’s always thought you were beautiful.

“Nora’s not my girlfriend,” is the first thing she says.

You think you should feel relief, some semblance of hope flickering, but this feels a lot like uncertainty and you hate the limbo.

You don’t say anything, just wipe your nose on the back of your hand.

“I’m sorry,” Abby whispers, hands coming up to grasp your shoulders.

You make a noise in the back of your throat, corners of your mouth turning down in that telltale sign that you’re not done crying yet.

“C’mon, angel, stop crying,” Abby says weakly and the nickname makes your stupid heart flutter.

Her thumbs are brushing underneath your eyes, over the puff of your eyebags before she’s crushing you to her chest, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other winding around your shoulders to keep you anchored.

Your arms wrap around her waist, taking in the scent of her pine body wash and the softness of her detergent.

“I hate you,” comes your muffled hiccup.

Abby only hugs you harder.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

And perhaps she deserves that, but you’re pushing your face further into her chest and she barely hears you.

“I missed you,” you admit a second later, back of her work shirt fisted between nimble fingers.

A shuddering breath leaves her at the admission, makes her body relax as the two of you stand at the edge of your kitchen.

“Missed you,” she murmurs, savoring the way your body feels melding against hers for the first time in weeks. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

“You’ll stay?” you whisper.

“Yeah, yeah,” she assures you. “I gotta go home and get some stuff, but of course I’ll stay.”

Your hold tightens and your head shakes.

“I mean stay, Abby,” you clarify. “With me. Don’t…don’t run away anymore.”

Her breath catches in her throat, a new onslaught of tears choking her as she nods fervently.

“Yeah,” she croaks, kissing the top of your head. “M’not going anywhere.”

BONUS

You don’t know where the time goes. It all seems to blur together in the moments you spend with Abby, and before you can wrap your mind around the fact, a full year has passed the two of you by.

“You look so pretty,” Abby comments, sitting on the edge of your bed with her legs spread.

She’s watching you through the mirror, blue eyes piercing and unblinking.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way she always seems to make you warm.

“Thanks,” you mumble, unable to hide the smile that twitches while you screw the cap back onto your lipgloss to take one final look at yourself.

“Not gonna say it back?” Abby feigns annoyance, pushing up from her seat to wrap around you, one hand bracing against the dresser as her chin drops to your neck.

“Then it’d be insincere,” you deadpan, head tilting to rest against hers.

She humphs under her breath, shamelessly sliding a hand up your dress.

You stop her fingers in their tracks, pushing off from the drawers to create space between the two of you and alleviate the warmth beginning to bloom behind your navel.

“We’re gonna be late for Nora’s birthday,” you quip, fingertips barely brushing the doorknob before Abby’s hands are gripping your waist.

She’s hoisting you to throw you against the mattress playfully.

“She’ll survive if we’re ten minutes late,” Abby assures you wolfishly, climbing over you to cage your body between her thick thighs.

“You’re gonna mess up my hair,” you whine, pushing at her shoulder.

Abby captures your wrists in one hand, other tilting your chin up to slot her lips between yours. The taste of the fresh coat of lipgloss you’d just applied makes her smile against your mouth.

She relaxes a fraction when you reciprocate, tongue languid. A noise of approval rumbles from her chest when you nudge her onto her back and bite down on her bottom lip. With a wicked glint in her eyes, she’s pulling away, hands resting against the curve of your ass.

Now you’re straddling her, manicured hands mapping from her waist to her shoulders to feel the ripple of taut muscles underneath. She’s tense, obviously waiting for your next move with bated breath and kiss bitten lips.

But then you shift teasingly over her zipper.

“Let’s go,” you hum, pressing a final kiss to her jaw before climbing off of her anticipating figure. “No dessert before dinner.”

neng © 2023

[theereina]

Bad News Pt. 2

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC "Bella"

Wordcount: +1.4K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut, heavily dialogue-centered, mental health mentioned (anxiety), *emotional distress*, angst, heartbreak, chronic illnesses mentioned, health conditions mentioned (c*ncer, PCOS, endometriosis), infertility, slight verbal ab*se

A/N¹: Remember, I just got back into writing. I'm open to critiques, but I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

A/N²: I am not a medical doctor. Please, forgive me if my knowledge of any of the mentioned medical conditions is incorrect.

Bad News Pt. 1=> 😢

Walking into the room, my heart was crushed even further. All of the feelings I wish I could explain; I couldn't. Terry and his bags were gone. I hadn't even heard him leave. He didn't even care enough to at least say goodbye. After all these years, I wasn't worth a goodbye. Two seconds just solidified that this relationship wasn't worth any more of my energy.

I couldn't understand it. How did we get here? Had he always been like this? Was I that blind? I guess I was so busy trying to find love that I forgot the most important rule— love wasn't supposed to hurt. Then again, every version of love I've experienced was painful, manipulative, abusive, and damaging. So, maybe I found what I was familiar with. I mean, why else would I be so comfortable putting up with this?

But, what do I do now?

*2 hours later

The room was covered in crumpled and torn pieces of notebook paper. I have tried and tried to write this letter. My hands were stiff, and my head was throbbing. I just wanted him to know how I felt because my mind was already made up. I'm done, and this is over.

If he would've just listened, we wouldn't be in this predicament. If he hadn't said those words, there would still be hope in my eyes and love in my heart.

Better yet, fuck this and fuck him. He doesn't deserve a letter. This doesn't concern him anymore. I've already changed my flight for tomorrow morning. I leave on the first flight out. Since I no longer have anything to say to him, there is no need to wait. I can return to the West Coast and be at home with my Godmother and Godsister when I receive the news.

*The next day

“I will never like flying’. I don't care!” I said stepping out of the bathroom after showering. I was dressed in a pair of sweats and a plain black T-shirt. I had wrapped a scarf around my head to protect my hair during my shower.

My Godsister, Shante, was waiting for me. She was relaxed on the bed with her back against the headboard. Her satin black bonnet and black fluffy robe made her look so much like her grandmother. “What?” she asked turning her head towards me. “You look like Nana Elsie!” I laughed into my hand. “Shut up!” she said slinging one of the pillows at me.

I walked to the bed and sat on the edge closest to me. I was tired. I knew why she was in here. She wanted to make sure I was okay. Honestly, I wasn't. My life was shit right now. Leaving Terry was just another stab to the heart. All I could do was pray to God that I didn't lose anymore. I couldn't possibly see myself being any lower than this.

“You wanna talk?” Shante asked rolling on her side facing my back. “Not really, I just wanna wait until they call,” I said solemnly. My shoulders were beginning to feel heavy again. I didn't want to think about what the doctor would say. I already knew this day was coming.

After years of medical neglect and misdiagnoses, I was finally given a proper diagnosis of both endometriosis and PCOS. I had been ignored for years when I complained of a forever-growing mountain of signs that something was wrong. I was told to “lose weight” to alleviate my symptoms. When I lost the weight, nothing changed. Some symptoms even seemed to get worse.

I had grown tired of all the referrals and guesses. I had explained to my original primary care physician years ago that I suspected that I had PCOS. It was dismissed as anxiety and medical hysteria. I tried again with three other physicians to be met with the same fate— try to lose weight, take this metformin, exercise daily, change your diet, etc.

This could have been treated years ago if someone would have just listened.

*3 hours later

I was in the kitchen eating when my cell phone rang. I picked it up thinking it was the call I had been dreading. I was eager to get this over with. Just say it, and let's move on.

“Hello, this is Bella,” I mumbled into the phone. I was on the edge again. Trying my hardest to breathe and stay calm. “Bell, where are you?” asked Terry. “Terry?” I asked pulling the phone away from my ear and looking at it. Fuck! Why didn't I look before answering? Why didn't I block him?

“Bella, I'm s—,” he started to speak before I interrupted him. “Save it. I… I don't care anymore,” I said through tears. “Bells, I was—,” he started again. “No,” I said sobbing into the phone. “Could you just—!” he yelled into the phone. That was it. I didn't have to deal with this. I hung up the phone and laid it on the table in front of me.

Pushing the plate away, I laid across my arms crying with my head down. My Godmother and Godsister were both gone to work. That left me alone once again with my emotions— all of them.

ring ring ring

Not again. I picked up the phone in anger. “I don't want to talk to you!” I screamed into the phone. “Isabella? It's Dr. Moore. We need to speak about scheduling your surgery immediately,” he said in a startled tone. “I'm sorry, Dr. Moore. I'm having a…,” I said taking a deep breath. “I can call back if—,” he said. “No!” I blurted out. “Sorry. Please, tell me now,” I whimpered. I was flying between emotions faster than my body could manage.

“Well, honey. I'm sorry to bring you such bad news at this time, but we're going to need to remove your left ovary. The cysts were quite large, and… Unfortunately, the biopsy indicated they were cancerous. The safest option is to remove the affected ovary and all endometriosis deposits. Later on, we can discuss any further changes,” he said. “Changes?” I questioned while sniffling. “If it progresses any further, we may have to perform a hysterectomy.” Dr. Moore continued to talk, but I had dissociated from the conversation. This was it.

My mind was overflowing with questions. Will I be able to have kids? Would this even get rid of the cancer? If it did, would it come back? Would life ever be normal for me?

I don't know. I'll probably never know.

*Later in the day

ring ring ring

Hours had passed since the call ended. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to think. I had planned my whole life around me and Terry's relationship— kids, a house, a minivan, a dog, all of it. Now, everything was gone. Maybe my mother was right, I am cursed.

ring ring ring

“Who is it?” I sobbed into the phone. “It's me, Bella. Baby, can you please just listen to me?” Terry pleaded over the phone. “Why, huh? What’s there to listen to? You said everything you needed to say,” I yelled. All of my feelings were being overshadowed by my anger.

“I didn't mean it, Bella. That wasn't supposed to happen. I love you. You know that!” Terry yelled. “I don't know that, Terry. If you loved me, you wouldn't have said it. You meant it with all your fucking heart. You stood on it when you left without saying a word. No goodbye. No sorry. Nothing. That's not love,” I blurted out. I was beyond tired of holding my tongue. “Stop being so fuckin' childish right now and use your brain. You're always so damn emoti—,” he said cutting himself off. “Nah, say it! I'm too fucking emotional, huh? Ain't that right, Terry?” I screamed again. Tears were streaming down my face falling onto the kitchen table.

“I’m always sick, and… and I'm… I'm always emotional. That's what you… that's what you said, right? THEN, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WITH ME?!” I screamed as loud as I could. I threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall and shattered. Good. No more phone calls. No more doctors. No more — Terry.

Taglist: @avoidthings @brattyfics @slutsareteacherstoo @pocketsizedpanther

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blowmymbackout @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy

@insidefeelingofanadult @revealingco @keyaho @jimmybutlrr @gg-trini

@nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @poektiou624 @gwenda-fav @nayaesworld

@ittsstephanieee @beenathembo @blyffe @thegreatlibraryofalex @persethegawd

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 06

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

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

ღ wc 7.4 k

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

ღ author's note dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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You woke up in Satoru's bed, the soft sheets still carrying his scent. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting dappled patterns of shadows on the floor. As you stirred, your head pounded with a heavy, throbbing ache. Fragments of last night's events swam hazily in your mind.

The clock on the bedside table read noon.

You sat up and looked over your shoulder. The sheets on the other side were crumpled. Satoru must had slept beside you. But now, his side was empty, the room silent except for the distant sounds of the city life outside the windows.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and paused briefly, hoping the throbbing in your head would ease. You could barely remember anything from last night. But you sure remembered one thing — the marks on your thighs unmistakable remnants of Satoru.

You threw on one of Satoru's loose white shirts and made your way out of the bedroom. The living space was neat, the remnants of last night's chaos nowhere in sight. Your eyes were drawn to the kitchen where Satoru stood, his back to you.

He was busy at the counter, seemingly preparing something. The morning light streaming through the window illuminated his figure, highlighting the numerous red scratches scattered across his bare back — unmistakable remnants of you.

You paused, watching him for a moment.

"I didn't know you were a calvin klein man," you remarked, eyeing the hem of his boxer shorts peeking out from his low-hanging sweatpants.

Satoru turned, his eyes met yours, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Where are you staring at?"

You walked closer. "Where your pants at?" 

As you reached the table, you let yourself sink into a chair. A glass of water and an array of pills were neatly arranged in front of you.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck," you said, rubbing your temples.

"Take these," he gestured toward the pills. "They'll help. And I'll make you some coffee. Caffeine should do some good."

You eyed the pills, suppressing a sudden feeling of nausea. You reached for the glass of water and downed the pills.

Satoru moved around the kitchen preparing the coffee. You watched, momentarily lost in the captivating display of his back muscles, shifting and flexing with each movement. His hair was slightly tousled, his forearms flexed, revealing defined muscles and veins.

He turned to you with two steaming mugs of coffee, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. "Here," he said, handing you a mug. "This should help clear your head."

You accepted it with a faint smile, the warmth of the mug seeping into your hands. Satoru fumbled in his sweatpants pocket and pulled out a small flashlight. "Let me just check something real quick."

He turned on the light and flickered it in front of your eyes. You blinked, startled by the sudden brightness. "Satoru, I'm okay."

He ignored your protest, carefully checking your pupils before turning off the light. He gently cupped your chin, turning your head first to one side, then to the other, observing your eyes closely. "Any dizziness when I do this?"

"No."

He then placed his hand against your forehead. "You don't have a fever, do you?"

"No," you said as his hand already moved from your forehead to under your jaw, his fingers checking your lymph nodes.

"You want a saline drip?"

"What? No."

Satoru met your gaze, his fingers still working gently around your neck. "Works wonders sometimes."

"Why would you even have that at home?" 

His lips formed a thin line.

Yeah. You shouldn't wonder why a man constantly carrying a scalpel with him has a saline drip at home. It was just Satoru being Satoru — always a doctor.

"I'm fine, Satoru, really." You tried to push his hand away, but he already grasped your wrist, extending your arm to feel your pulse. His touch was tender as he cradled your wrist with one hand while he glanced at his watch, timing the beats.

After a moment, he released your wrist. "Good," he said, sounding relieved.

"Did I pass your check-up?"

Satoru smiled as he pulled back. "You did." 

He leaned against the counter opposite you. You took a sip of the coffee, the bitterness sharp against your tongue. "You've got some scratches on your back."

"Yeah, I thought so. Got quite a few stares during my run earlier."

You nearly choked on your coffee. "You went out running like that?"

"Looks like they are a bit more obvious than I thought." Satoru glanced over his shoulder at the scratches. "They definitely caught some attention."

"Why didn't you wear a shirt?"

"It's hot outside."

"Oh my god," you muttered, rubbing your temple.

Satoru chuckled. "Next time, maybe go a little easier on me."

Next time?

"So," he started, "how much do you remember about last night?"

You pondered for a moment, the events of the evening coming back in fragments. "Bits and pieces. But it's all a quite blurry. I don't remember much from the club. But I remember everything clearly after we got here, if that's what you're asking for."

He didn't repost to that. He only watched you. "I got the results from your blood test this morning."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his jaw tensing. "That guy at the club, he tried to drug you with tramadol. Thankfully, it wasn't a high dose. But whoever he is, he's likely from the medical faculty. It's not something someone could easily get their hands on. I've already reported it to the university."

"Tramadol?" you murmured, trying to process the information. "An opioid? That's an odd choice."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's what you find intriguing?"

"No, that came out wrong." You shook your head. "I can't believe someone from our faculty would do something like that."

"I'm just relieved that you're safe. The mere thought of you being in danger..." He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists.

Suddenly, his body shook. He turned away, gripping the counter tightly, his knuckles whitening with the strain. "If I ever get my hands on that guy—"

The room fell silent.

Maybe it wasn't the best time, but you couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Satoru," you began cautiously, "about what I said yesterday...I meant it. You have to get clean."

He paused. "We can talk about that some other time. You've been through enough already."

"But Satoru—"

"Not now," he cut you off.

He pushed off the counter and started to move around the kitchen, busying himself with cleaning up. He was obviously avoiding the conversation.

"We can't just keep avoiding this."

He continued his task, his back to you. "I know," he said quietly, "but now's not the time. Let's focus on getting you back on your feet first."

"God, Satoru, you're so selfish!" 

At this, Satoru turned around. "Selfish? You're the one who's always running away. You left me last night, after I told you what I feel for you." 

His tone grew sharper, his words laced with pain. "I had no idea what you were doing, where you were, whether you were safe and it killed me. Every damn second I didn't know what was going on killed me."

His accusation struck a nerve. "What was I supposed to do? Just ignore everything you've done and act as if everything is fine?"

"Did seem to me like that last night, as you begged me to fuck you so hard, that you would forget everything," he shot back, "but I did, even though it felt wrong, because you said you needed it. So don't tell me I'm selfish, when I'd do anything for you."

"Don't go there, Satoru," you warned, feeling a surge of anger. "You have no right to judge how I handle my feelings."

"Like getting drunk and flirting with the first guy who looks your way?"

"That's not fair."

"I've told you how much I want you, how much I crave being with you. Still you go around, like what I said meant nothing."

"Because it means nothing, Satoru!" you shot back, your voice rising. "You say you want me, but your actions tell a different story! If you really meant what you said, you would have told me about your addiction. You would be fighting it. Otherwise, your words mean nothing."

Your blood began to boil. You stood up, pushing the chair back with a loud scrape. Your heart pounded in your chest. "Sweet words aren't enough, Satoru. You have to show me that I mean something to you. Show me that you want me!"

"And I thought I had already shown how bad I want you," he replied.

"Not by fucking me, damn it. Show me by fighting your addiction."

"My addiction has nothing to do with my feelings for you."

"But with mine, Satoru! Your addiction is affecting my feelings. And you're hurting me!"

He paused. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want the truth," you gasped, breathing heavily. "Stop lying to me."

There was a long silence. 

He said nothing.

You turned away, frustration boiling over.

You left the kitchen and stormed through the living room. That's when your eyes landed on a chessboard set up on a small table. For a moment, you stood there, staring at it, an idea forming in your mind.

You grabbed the chessboard and returned to the kitchen. Satoru watched, a puzzled expression on his face, as you set the board on the table between you.

"Let's settle this," you declared. "Sixteen pieces. Sixteen questions. We tell the truth every time we lose a piece."

Satoru raised an eyebrow. "You're going to play by the same rules?"

"Yes."

He pondered for a moment, watching you. "Just so you know, I'm pretty good at chess."

You met his gaze squarely. "Then the game should be interesting."

You sat down at the table and arranged the chess pieces on the board. Once done, you moved it to the center of the table and looked up at him. "Begin."

Satoru pushed off the counter and sat down opposite you. His shirtless chest now on full display as he rested his arm on the back of the chair next to him. He pondered for a moment and then made his move.

You recognized the strategy immediately. "Hm, the King's Pawn opening," you commented. "Planning to take control of the center early, I see."

Satoru met your gaze. "You know I never hold back."

"I've noticed." You countered with your pawn to c5, setting up the Sicilian Defense.

He gave a playful smirk. "Playing defensively. I expected a more direct attack from you."

"Just wait," you warned. "You'll see what's coming."

Satoru developed his knight to f3, and you solidified your position with d6. 

The stage was set for a strategic play.

Satoru thought for a moment. Then he moved his pawn to d4, challenging your setup.

[Piece captured: Satoru's pawn captures your pawn on d4.]

"Your first question," you prompted, looking up at him.

He watched you for a moment before he spoke. "Do you regret sleeping with me last night?"

Huh?

That's what he wants to know?

You bit your lower lip, considering. His piercing blue eyes awaited your response. "No," you said, then moved on the board, capturing his pawn on d4 with your d6 pawn. 

Too easy, he was smarter than that — he gave you that.

[Piece captured: You capture Satoru's d4 pawn with your d6 pawn.]

Satoru shifted slightly in his chair, absorbing your move. "Now, your first question."

You watched him for a moment before speaking. "Do you even want to get clean?"

He hesitated. 

"No lies," you remained him.

He clenched his teeth. "I could. If that's what you want."

"That not my question. I asked if you want to."

You could see the muscles in his every being tense as you waited for him to answer. After a long pause, he finally answered, "No."

Your heart sank as you looked into his blue eyes — suddenly so unfamiliar.

At least now, both of you knew where you stood.

The board was set for the next phase of the game.

You developed your knight to f6, targeting his e4 pawn. In response, Satoru's knight moved to c3, supporting his pawn structure. Satoru's bishop then moved to e3, and you responded by advancing your bishop to g7.

Satoru then positioned his bishop on e3. You responded strategically, moving your bishop to g7, placing it on the long diagonal.

Satoru leaned forward, rubbing his lower lip with his hand as he considered his next move. Playing f3, Satoru hinted at a kingside attack. You castled to safeguard your king. Satoru moved his queen to d2, setting the stage for a potential offensive.

You huffed. You moved your other knight to c6, increasing the pressure on the board.

[Piece captured: You capture Satoru's d4 knight with your c6 knight.]

With the knight taken, you looked up at him. "When did it start, your addiction?"

"I'm sure Suguru must have told you."

"I want to hear it from you."

Running a hand through his hair, he leaned back in his chair. 

"It started during my undergrad years. Methylphenidate was the first. It helped me focus, gave me that extra edge for exams. It was harmless."

"Then, at a party, someone offered me sedatives. It was different. It helped me calm down in a way cannabis could not. It made me forget the stress for a while. But it wasn't just sedatives. There were nights with ecstasy. Cocaine too."

He paused, as if reliving those moments. "You know, I was always at the top of my class. Always pushing myself as expected from me. But somewhere down that line, I became dependent on tranquilizers just to cope with university stress, to keep my mind sane."

He didn't break eye contact for a second. His piercing blue eyes absorbed every slight change in your expression.

"During my master's program I moved on to stronger stuff. Codeine at first, then oxycodone. By the time I was working on my dissertation I was given my own lab, leading my own research, publishing papers and taking daily morphine just to function. On really bad days, hydromorphone."

You took a shaky inhale, feeling a heavy weight on your chest. You dropped your head into your hands, your fingers tightly gripping your hair. "God, Satoru. Was there anything you didn't try?" 

"I'm not experimenting anymore. I've found my routine. I have it under control. At least until you came into my life."

You raised your head to meet his gaze. "What—What routine?"

You shook your head. My God, he was speaking about his drug use as if it was as normal as taking a daily vitamin.

"You talk about it like it's nothing. Satoru, you're really deep into your addiction. You have a real problem."

"Does that scare you?" he asked.

If his addiction scares you? What a stupid question.

It didn't scare you. 

It made you furious.

"Not your turn for questions," you retorted sharply.

Satoru's expression hardened. He leaned forward, making a swift move on the board, capturing your knight with his pawn.

[Piece captured: Satoru takes your c6 knight with his b7 pawn.]

"Does my addiction scare you?"he repeated his question.

"No," you replied sharply. "But is that all you worry about? Whether I'm scared of your addiction? Are you afraid that I see you as a bad person? Is that why you lied to me all the time?"

"It's not your turn for questions," he reminded you.

You frustration boiled over. You moved your queen to a5, putting pressure on key pieces in his defense.

"Getting aggressive, aren't we?" Satoru commented, observing your play.

You didn't respond.

Satoru moved his rook to d3. You doubled your rooks on the b-file, intensifying the pressure on Satoru's queenside. Undeterred, Satoru advanced his pawn to g5, aiming to disrupt your kingside pawn structure. 

The move was bold. He wasn't going to back down easily.

What a bitch.

You maneuvered your knight to h5, targeting the advanced pawn and readying for an attack. Satoru's queen moved to h4, aligning with your king and adding tension to the board.

You shifted your rook to b4, setting up a potential attack on Satoru's queen. Satoru responded by placing his rook on b1, defending against your aggressive rooks.

Moving your queen to c5, you aimed at the weakened pawn structure around Satoru's king. Satoru repositioned his rook to b3, attempting to neutralize your threats.

You lined up both rooks on the b-file, preparing for a decisive strike. Satoru retreated his rook to d1, bracing for your impending attack.

Stupid mistake.

[Piece captured: You capture Satoru's f3 knight with your g7 bishop.]

"What is it that you're so afraid of that you've been lying to me all this time? That I will spill your secret?"

He paused before replying, "Losing you."

"Liar," you retorted.

"There are no lies in this game," Satoru countered, capturing your bishop on g7 with his queen. "You set the rules yourself."

[Piece captured: Satoru takes your g7 bishop with his queen.]

"How do you really feel about me?" 

The question took you aback. You paused, raising a hand to your mouth and biting on your fingernails. Satoru watched you, waiting for your response.

"I don't know."

"That's not an answer," he prodded.

"What do you want me to say? That I want you? Yes, Satoru, I want you. But I also hate you. I hate you for lying to me. And I hate you for what you've put me through."

"That's why you flirted with that guy last night? To get back at me?"

"Not your turn for questions."

You advanced your queen deep into his territory, directly challenging his king. Satoru moved his queen to c4, a defensive play against your aggressive approach. Your knight leaped to f4, adding pressure and threatening a checkmate pattern.

In response, Satoru maneuvered his rook to c1, attempting to fortify his defenses against your aggressive moves. Seizing the opportunity, you captured Satoru's pawn on e2 with your queen, threatening his king directly.

[Piece captured: You capture Satoru's e2 pawn with your queen.]

"What substance are you currently on?" you asked, your gaze fixed on the board.

"I'm on a regular dose of hydromorphone, sometimes alprazolam."

"How much?" you pressed.

"Just one question—"

"How much, Satoru?"

"Hydromorphone, six milligrams every few hours. Alprazolam, two milligrams but that's only—"

You met his gaze. "Only what? If the sun doesn't shine?"

"Only when I'm around you."

Your grip on the chess piece grew tighter. "What's that supposed to mean? You need tranquilizers just to be around me?"

He didn't respond, his silence speaking volumes.

You felt like you're about to throw up.

You looked away and moved your knight to f4, escalating the attack and setting up a potential checkmate. "How can you even function like that? That dosage would hospitalize most people."

Satoru's response was prompt, his queen moved to f2, attempting to trade pieces and reduce the pressure. "I've developed a high tolerance."

Without a second thought, you captured his queen with your rook.

[Piece captured: You capture Satoru's queen with your f2 rook.]

With Satoru's queen removed from the board, you pressed on. "Who else knows about your addiction? Besides me and Geto?"

"No one. Just the two of you."

Satoru then recaptured your rook on f2 with his rook on d1.

[Piece captured: Satoru's d1 rook captures your f2 rook.]

"Why did you flirt with that guy last night?" Satoru asked.

"I didn't flirt with him. He just happened to be there. That's all."

You then realigned your remaining rook to b8, positioning it on the open file directly opposing Satoru's king. 

Satoru hesitated, his hand hovering over the board. "Did you think of me, while you were with him?" He suddenly asked. His voice softer now.

Huh?

You paused and looked up from the chessboard to meet his gaze. His usually sharp, piercing eyes now held a hollowness, as if they were clouded. His brows drawn together as if in pain.

Your response was soft, almost inaudible. "Yes."

Satoru held your gaze you for a moment, before moving his other rook to f1, trying to fortify his king's position. You advanced your rook to c8, putting it directly opposite Satoru's king, signaling your preparation for the final attack.

He moved his king to b1, seeking a safer position, but the options were dwindling. You maneuvered your rook to c4 in preparation for an attack. Satoru's rook moved to f3 to create a potential counterplay.

You moved your rook to a4, pinning one of Satoru's rooks and setting up a lethal threat. Satoru's rook moved to b3, trying to defend against your imminent attack.

Your knight leaped to e2 cutting off the escape routes for Satoru's king. Satoru's rook moved to b2, the last line of defense, trying to hold off your attack.

You played your knight to c3, putting Satoru's king in check.

[Check]

Satoru's king retreated to a1, the only available square. Your rook slid to a3, cutting off the king's escape and setting up the final play.

Satoru leaned forward, his fingers rubbing over his lower lip as as he took a moment to assess the board. "Well played," he said as he made his last move.

You moved your rook to a2, delivering a checkmate. Satoru's king was trapped, with no squares left for escape.

[Checkmate]

Satoru looked up from the chessboard, his eyes searching yours. "What's your final question?"

"Will you try to get clean if I asked you to? I mean really try."

A moment of silence passed as he contemplated your question. 

"Yes."

You bit down on your lower lip, still boiling inside.

You stood up. Leaning forward, you placed your hands firmly on the table, fixing Satoru with a steely gaze. 

"Here's how this is going to work from now on," you began. "You'll reduce your hydromorphone dose gradually, only five milligrams every four hours from now on. Then, you'll cut it down to four milligrams for the next two weeks until you're completely off."

Satoru absorbed your words, his jaw clenching.

"You'll stop the alprazolam immediately. No more strong tranquilizers."

"Wait—" Satoru began, but you cut him off.

"Don't you dare say anything now, Satoru. Shut it."

Satoru pressed his lips together.

"You'll take clonidine to help with the withdrawal symptoms. But only low doses. Got me?"

Satoru inhaled sharply. "That's a tough plan you're laying out. I'll be in heavy withdrawal. You know that, right?"

"I don't care," you snapped. "You'll fight through it. And if you feel like you can't take it anymore you'll call me, if you feel like you need to take a pill you talk to me, if you feel like dying you'll come to me, got me?"

"Seems like we'll be spending a lot of time together then."

"I want you clean by the end of the summer break, Satoru. If not, I'll report you to the director."

He leaned back in his chair. "Didn't know you could be so fierce, first-year."

"Save your breath. I'm dead serious about this."

"So am I."

"Then we're clear?"

His lips curled into a boyish smile. "I'll do anything you asked of me, sweetheart. I'm all yours."

You felt a slight release of tension, your shoulders easing down a bit.

"But I want something from you in return," he added.

"That I don't break your neck should be enough."

Ignoring your remark, Satoru stood up and leaned across the small table towards you. His posture was imposing, his broad shoulders now more pronounced as he closed the gap between you. His face only mere inches from yours.

"I need you to help me in the OR over the summer."

"I'll not do that surgery again," you said.

"Not the implanting of the transplant, I'll do that. I want you to assist me. On every single surgery, the whole summer. We'll work on perfecting the procedure until it's ready for publication."

You frowned slightly. "Satoru, I need to study. Did you forget I'm still a student? I can't spend every waking moment in the OR with you."

He inched even closer, his breath warm against your lips. "Then I'll help you with your studies," he offered, his eyes locked onto yours. "You're a first-year; the material is not that hard."

Ouch.

"Do we have a deal?"

After a moment of consideration, you nodded. "Deal."

As Satoru's gaze lingered on your lips, you added softly, "Oh, and Satoru?"

"Hm?" He leaned in closer, expecting something.

"No sex until you're clean."

"What?" His eyes widened slightly as he pulled back, searching your face for signs of jest.

"You really think you get rewarded for this?"

Satoru gave a half-smirk, half-grimace. "You know, I tend to function better when I'm... satisfied."

"Well then, I'm sure your right hand will have a busy summer," you said, pushing yourself away from the table.

─── ·✧· ───

A week has passed since that day.

Satoru was deep in thought, staring at research data on his notebook, when the door to his office flew open. Geto stormed in, a newspaper clenched in his hand, and slammed it down on Satoru's desk with a force that made the pens rattle.

The headline screamed "charming surgeon couple sets new medical standard", accompanied by a picture of Satoru and you in surgical gear.

Geto's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Have you lost your mind, Satoru?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

Satoru looked up. "What are you talking about?"

"This!" Geto clenched the newspaper in his hand, his forced smile fading. "This article. It's basically a public statement that you're having an affair. You're on dangerous ground."

Satoru stood up, casually walking over to his bookshelf as if the conversation were of no importance. He pulled out a book, flipping through it. "It's just an article, Suguru. They needed a story, we gave them one. It's good publicity for the hospital."

Geto's hands balled into fists at his sides. "It's not just an article, it's a spotlight on something that shouldn't even be happening. You're her mentor, for god's sake."

Satoru, still perusing the book, shrugged. "You're overreacting. She's done groundbreaking work, she deserves recognition. The article doesn't imply anything else."

"Don't play dumb with me. I know you better than that," Geto retorted, his voice rising. "You're a ticking time bomb, Satoru. And when you fall, she'll be dragged down with you, you know that."

Satoru closed the book and finally faced Geto. "My personal issues are under control."

"Under control?" Geto sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You think popping pills and then playing the charming surgeon in the OR is under control? You're risking not only your career, but hers as well!"

Satoru's expression hardened. "I'm handling it, Geto. She's not in any danger from me."

Geto stepped closer, his frustration palpable. "You're not thinking straight. She's just starting her career. What happens when she gets caught in the crossfire of your mess? Have you even thought for a second about the consequences?"

He replaced the book on the shelf and faced Geto squarely. "Your concern is noted. But I assure you, she's safe with me."

"And that at the conference? What about that?"

"It was a mistake, I know."

"Mistake? God, Satoru, you should be grateful that everyone was so drunk that night that they barely noticed that you were locked in with a student for a few minutes and came back with your pants still open. What were you thinking?"

Satoru's composure faltered, a hint of frustration seeping into his voice. "I know! But—but she was hurt, Suguru—hurt about what happened at the club and—and she was confused, and then said, 'use me'," Satoru waved his hands helplessly to make his point somehow clear, "—that's when I lost it."

Geto's eyes narrowed. "Wait, what? After what happened at the club? You fucked her twice?"

Ouh.

Before Satoru could respond, Geto lunged forward, grabbing him by the collar and pushing him back against the bookshelf. Books tumbled down as Satoru hit the shelf, the sound echoing in the room.

"You're not just playing with fire, Satoru. You're diving headfirst into it!" Geto hissed, his face inches from Satoru's. "And you're dragging her down with you. She's a student, Satoru. A student under your guidance!"

Satoru grasped Geto's wrists, trying to pry them off. "I know, Suguru, I know. But I know what she means to me. And I swear, I won't let my problems affect her."

"You better be right. Because if things go south, it's not just you who'll pay the price." Geto exclaimed, his grip tightening on Satoru's shirt.

"I know, but—," Satoru gasped under the strain. "I'm trying to get clean. I've promised her."

Geto released him, stepping back. "Get clean? Satoru, you've been addicted for over a decade."

Straightening up, Satoru rubbed his neck where the fabric had constricted, his breath uneven. "Wow, you have so much hope for me. I'm flattered."

Geto's gaze bore into Satoru, skepticism etched in every line of his face. "It's not like you haven't tried before."

Satoru let himself slide down along the bookshelf, slumping against it on the ground. He glanced at the disarray around him, running a hand through his hair. "I know. But this time, it's different. I'm doing it for her."

"I have a plan," Satoru added. "Reducing dosages, substituting meds, the whole thing. She's got a whole schedule. A tough one, I may add."

Geto crossed his arms. "What schedule?"

"I'm down to only five milligrams hydromorphone every four hours now, and then it'll be even less over the next two weeks. She's also completely taken me off tranquillizers."

Geto visibly winced. "That's tough."

Satoru nodded, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, it is."

"But weren't you on ten milligrams lately?" Geto asked.

Satoru looked up, offering a weak, somewhat strained smile. "Yeah, but let's keep that between us, Suguru."

"You're stupid. You've halved your dosage practically overnight. You can't go through with that. How can you even function at all right now?"

"Barely, but I'm trying."

"And you think that's going to work? Just because she's involved?"

"It has to. I don't want to lose her."

Geto raised an eyebrow. "What did she do to you?"

Satoru paused for a moment, his gaze distant. "I don't know... maybe she's the one."

Geto sighed. He held out his hand to Satoru. "How about we grab something to eat?"

─── ·✧· ───

The warm sunlight greeted Geto and Satoru as they stepped outside. The air was alive with the chirping of birds and the distant hum of students enjoying their last week before summer break. 

The lush greenery surrounding the cafeteria's outdoor seating area swayed gently in the mild breeze. It was a popular spot, especially on such a beautiful day. Professors and students mingled, their conversations punctuated by occasional laughter.

Geto and Satoru joined the line at the cafeteria, grabbed something to eat and then scanned the crowd for a place to sit. It was then that Satoru's gaze inadvertently fell upon a familiar group. There you were, sitting among your friends at one of the sun-drenched tables. Your laughter reached his ears, bringing a smile to his face.

"Looks like we've found our spot," Geto remarked, following Satoru's gaze. Without waiting for a response, he led the way towards your table.

As they approached, the conversation at your table paused. All eyes turned towards the new arrivals. "Mind if we join you?" Geto asked with his usual charm.

Maki looked up. "Of course, professors, but only if you promise not to spring any surprise tests on us."

Geto chuckled. "No surprises today, I assure you."

Everyone shuffled to make room. Satoru settled down across from you, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that was hard to ignore. You met his gaze, lifting your eyebrows slightly to remind him that you were not alone at this table.

"So, what's everyone's plan for the summer break?" Satoru asked the group.

Maki leaned back in her chair. "I'm hitting the trails. Hiking. It's high time I actually enjoyed a summer."

Yuta chimed in, "I'm searching for internships for next summer. Never too early to start, right? Still figuring out what field to dive into, though."

Maki groaned. "Oh, internships... just thinking about applying gives me a headache."

"You'll land something good, I'm sure," you reassured her.

Maki shot you a playful smirk. "Easy for you to say, miss one-half of the 'charming surgeon couple.' Seems like you won't be needing an internship after all."

Yuta laughed. "Yeah, thanks to her, we've been the center of attention all day."

Geto brushed off the concern. "Don't worry too much about it. The media's always onto the next thing. This will be old news before summer."

Yet Maki pressed on, her grin mischievous. "Speaking of summer, must be nice, having such an interesting summer break lined up with Dr. Gojo," she remarked. "Surgery after surgery, all season long."

You shot Maki a warning look, on the verge of answering, but Satoru was quicker.

"Well," Satoru began, "working closely with such a skilled partner certainly promises a summer of... intense teamwork." His gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than necessary, the ambiguous implication of his words clear to all present.

Under the table, your foot found its target—Satoru's shin—eliciting a sharp, yet subtle, reaction from him. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Geto rubbing his temple. He must have a headache by now.

"But Zenin has a point," Satoru recovered smoothly, "there's no substitute for hands-on experience. You should all consider internships."

Yuta then turned his attention to Geto and Satoru. "Are you two planning to come to the summer gathering?"

Satoru, caught slightly off guard, tilted his head. "Summer gathering? What's that?"

"It's just a small thing we're putting together to mark the start of the summer break. The whole practical class will be there, along with Dr. Kento and a few other professors from the department. It's casual, just a way to celebrate together," Yuta elaborated.

At this, Satoru's gaze shifted to you, an eyebrow arching in silent question. "How come I'm just hearing about this now?"

You gave a somewhat embarrassed smile, caught out for not mentioning it. "I assumed you'd be too busy."

"For something like this, I can always make time." His eyebrows raising even more.

"We'll be there and looking forward to it," Geto declared, casting a glance towards Satoru. "Right?"

Satoru, however, seemed momentarily distracted, his gaze still fixed on you. "Of course, I wouldn't miss it." It was clear he was irked by being kept in the dark. You felt a sudden shiver run down your spine.

You stood up abruptly. "I think I'll grab some dessert."

Satoru was quick on his feet, almost too eager to accompany you. "I think I'll get something too," he said, his voice betraying none of the annoyance his eyes had communicated moments before.

In the bustling line of the cafeteria, with the hum of conversations and the clink of dishes in the background, Satoru leaned closer to you. 

"Why didn't you tell me about the gathering sooner?" he asked, his eyes searching yours. "After what happened at the last party, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be there without... well, without someone looking out for you."

"It's just a casual thing, Satoru. No alcohol, and plenty of faculty around. It's completely different and perfectly safe."

Satoru frowned slightly. "Still don't like the idea. I should go with you, just to make sure everything's okay."

"As what? My boyfriend?" The words slipped out before you could stop them.

He smirked. "If that's what you like."

You glared at him. "That's not what I meant." Deciding to change the subject, you asked, "How are you holding up? With the withdrawal, I mean?"

"I'm not done talking about this," Satoru said, his tone sharpening. "You have to tell me such things."

"Since when?"

"Since—certain things happened."

"Oh, you want to further elaborate that?"

"You know what I mean."

"I can handle myself, Satoru."

"Yeah, I've seen that." he said, his voice laced with irony. "But be sure, I'll be keeping a close eye on you during the gathering." Without another word, he stepped out of the line, leaving you to process his abrupt departure.

"Wait, aren't you getting dessert?" you called after him.

"The only dessert I want right now is off-limits," he said, his voice fading as he walked away.

─── ·✧· ───

"Seems like Dr. Handsome can't take his eyes off you," Maki whispered, leaning in closer.

You turned your head slightly to see Satoru, indeed, staring at you.

Wow. He's not even trying to be subtle about it.

It was a warm summer evening, the kind that felt like a gentle pause in the rush of academic life. The summer gathering unfolded under the soft glow of twilight. A bonfire crackled at the center, casting a warm, flickering light over everyone there.

Satoru found himself on the periphery of the gathering, engaged in conversation with Geto but with his attention drawn to you. Despite the distance, you could feel the weight of his gaze, an invisible tether connecting the two of you across the space.

You tried to focus on the chat with Maki, Yuta, and Toge about their upcoming internships, but the sensation of being watched was hard to ignore.

"Oh, you know how it is," you said to Maki. "He's probably just making sure I don't accidentally set the bonfire ablaze."

Maki smirked. "Hmh, sure."

You reached for your phone.

[7:28 PM] You: Ever considered letting your gaze wander elsewhere?

[7:28 PM] Satoru: And miss out on the best view here? Not a chance.

[7:28 PM] You: Compliments will get you nowhere, professor. Maybe you should socialize a bit. Lots of interesting people here.

[7:29 PM] Satoru: Perhaps, but none of them are you. Let's strike a deal. I'll divert my attention if you spare me some time later tonight.

[7:29 PM] You: Quite a broad request. What did you have in mind?

[7:30 PM] Satoru: Nothing untoward, I assure you. Just the pleasure of your company, away from the crowd. A quiet walk, perhaps?

[7:31 PM] You: Just the two of us?

[7:31 PM] Satoru: Just the two of us. Unless you're afraid you might enjoy my company too much?

[7:32 PM] You: You're too sure of yourself. Alright, a walk it is. But keep your hands to yourself.

[7:33 PM] Satoru: You have my word.

[7:33 PM] You: We'll see about that. Meanwhile, try not to stare too hard.

[7:34 PM] Satoru: Anything you want, first-year.

You slid your phone back into your pocket, turning your attention back to the conversation with Maki, Yuta, and Toge. Some time later that evening you were gathered around the bonfire, its flames casting a warm glow against the darkening sky. 

Geto and Satoru eventually joined, effortlessly blending into the casual flow of conversation. After a lighthearted debate about the most challenging surgeries they had witnessed, Satoru found an opportune moment when the others were momentarily distracted by attempting to roast marshmallows over the bonfire. 

He leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "You know," Satoru began, his breath warm against your ear, "I can't wait to have you all to myself."

"Needy, are we?"

"Can you blame me?"

You tilted your head slightly, checking your surroundings to ensure no prying eyes were on you. "Looks like someone needs to work on their patience."

Satoru inched even closer. "I'm in withdrawal. My patience is wearing quite thin these days."

"Too bad for you, professor. But we had an agreement, remember?"

His hand reached out to gently cradle your chin, urging you to meet his gaze. "I was hoping we could bend the rules a bit?"

You pushed his hand away. "You really have no shame, do you? In front of everyone? And with Geto just over there?" Your eyes darted briefly to Geto, making sure his attention was elsewhere.

Satoru grinned. "I like living on the edge. It's more fun that way."

"You're giving me a headache."

Yuta, reaching to feed another log to the fire, suddenly froze, his attention caught by a figure on the opposite side of the flames. "Hold on, isn't that the guy?"

You tried to follow his gaze, squinting into the darkness. "What guy?"

"From that party," Yuta clarified. "The one who drugged you."

At this, Satoru's demeanor shifted, his face hardening as he locked eyes with the student Yuta pointed out. The memories from that night were hazy, but something about the guy seemed familiar. "It might be him. I don't know really."

"It's definitely him," Maki was more certain. "We need to do something, report him or—"

"Zenin, are you sure it was him?" Satoru interjected.

Maki nodded. "Yes."

As if sensing what was about to happen Geto turned to Satoru. "Satoru, don't." But it was too late. Satoru was already in motion. Geto hurried after him, but Satoru was already closing the distance.

Before anyone could react, Satoru had the student by the collar, the first punch landing with a sickening thud that silenced the surrounding chatter. He stumbled, crashing to the ground. 

Satoru hovered over him as the next punch followed—and the next—and the next, until Satoru's hand was smeared with blood.

The area around the bonfire erupted into chaos, the festive atmosphere shattered. Geto moved through the crowd, his voice booming over the noise. "Satoru! Enough!" He reached Satoru, pulling him back with a firm grip.

The crowd around them had backed away, forming a wide circle. Silence fell over the scene, broken only by the muffled moans of the injured student on the ground and the distant crackle of the bonfire.

You pushed your way through the crowd, your heart racing as you reached Satoru, who was still being restrained by Geto. His usual crisp button-down shirt now stained crimson. 

The student lay curled up on the ground, groaning, his face bloodied. You didn't take a closer look at him, the sight of blood on the ground enough to paint a vivid picture of Satoru's force.

You turned to Satoru and took his hand in yours. His skin was ripped and blood flowed freely from his knuckles. Geto met your eyes, his expression grave. "Get him out of here. I'll handle this."

You nodded. The crowd parted silently as you led Satoru away, their eyes following every step, whispers beginning to bubble up.

"Are you okay?"

"Never been better," Satoru said, his breathing heavy and uneven.

"God, Satoru, what were you thinking?"

He winced slightly. "Not much, I guess."

You guided Satoru through the maze of university corridors, his pace mechanically in sync with yours. The few staff and students you passed gave curious glances, but you paid them no mind. Reaching his office, you quickly ushered him inside and locked the door behind you.

"Sit down," you instructed. He complied, his movements sluggish.

You hurried to his medical supplies. Thankfully, he was always well-stocked. Returning to his side, you pushed another chair beside him and took his hand. The knuckles were raw, skin broken in places where his blows had connected with the student's face.

"Didn't I tell you to stop making me patch you up?" you said as you began to clean the wounds. Satoru flinched slightly but didn't pull away.

"You're going to be an expert in emergency care long before your graduation at this rate." He let out a short, strained laugh. "But it was worth it. God, I hope I broke his jaw, aimed right where it hurts the most. That's for sure a slow heal."

"You what?" 

"I took my shot."

You shock your head. "I can't believe you sometimes."

You observed him closely. Satoru's hand in you care was shaking more than could be attributed to the adrenaline of the fight. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breathing was too fast, too shallow.

"Satoru, you're shaking."

"I'm fine. Just a bit rattled from everything."

"Don't lie to me."

He slumped further into the chair, legs apart, head thrown back. His face was a mask of strain, brows drawn together, lips parting slightly with each labored breath. "It's nothing I can't handle. Just... not used to being without my... usual dosage."

"How much clonidine did you take today?"

"None."

"None? Satoru, you really should—"

"No, clonidine doesn't work. It just conceals it."

"You're going through withdrawal. You need something to take the edge off."

He sighed. "I know what I'm doing. I've been through this before," he said, though his voice lacked conviction. "If I can't get my high, then at least let me feel the pain from the withdrawal."

"You make yourself suffer more than you have to."

"It's fine," he said. "I've promised you that I'd get clean. Just trust me on this."

"Hard to when you go around punching people in the face," you remarked, securing the last of the bandages around his hand. "Director Yaga will have your head for this, you know right?"

"Yaga will do nothing. He can't afford to lose me. He knows that. He's too dependent on me and Suguru."

As you finished with the bandage, you looked into his eyes. "But he won't stand by and watch you act out like that all the time."

Satoru adjusted his posture slightly. "I know."

"And that guy? I doubt his nose was the only thing you broke." You gently moved the fingers of his injured hand. "Can you move them well?"

"They're good. You always do an excellent job," he said with a weary smile. "And the boy is nothing money can't take care of."

Your gaze hardened. "Satoru, that's not the point. What if you seriously injured him? What if he takes this to court?"

"Then I'll deal with it."

"Still, this is not okay."

"That he drugged you is not okay."

You sighed, shaking your head. "You're unbelievable."

He cracked a small smile. "I know you love me, though."

Huh?

Satoru relaxed back in his chair. "Just do me a favor and steer clear of parties for a bit, okay?"

You removed your gloves, giving him a long look.

Noticing your prolonged silence, Satoru cracked open an eye. "What is it?"

"Satoru, they will talk."

"Who?"

"Everyone. I mean, I just dragged you out of there, in full view. They all saw us leave together."

"So? A student was worried for their professor. That's all they saw."

"Yeah. That's sure what they'll say."

Satoru leaned in closer. He took your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to it. "Don't stress your pretty head over it. I'm here, and I won't let anything get to you." He then stood, and placed a tender kiss on the crown of your head. "Come on, let's head home. It's been a long day."

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: if this is not the perfect stage for trouble to unfold haha. thank you for the wait, dears! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As always feel free to leave your thoughts! :)

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

[lokiandbuckysdoll]

Waited Too Long

Pairings: Bucky x Plus-sized!Reader, Thor x Plus-sized!Reader.

Summary: You were Steve's younger sister who had a crush on his best friend, Bucky Barnes. One night, overhearing how Bucky talked about you changes your feelings toward him. 

Warnings: Angst, unrequited love/one-sided, mention of insecurity regarding weight, self-image issues, jerk bucky.

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: Please do not hesitate to reach out if I did not properly tag a warning! Proofread by the lovely @vbecker10 Divider by @firefly-graphics

You and Steve had always been close. It was clear that Steve took his role as your big brother seriously. This protective streak became especially pronounced when it came to matters of dating and boys. You, with your radiant smile and warm personality, had always been a magnet for attention. But for Steve, it wasn’t just about who you dated; it was about ensuring you were treated with the respect and care you deserved. His protective nature was rooted in both love and a sense of responsibility. 

From a young age, Steve noticed that you were different from your peers. While you were outgoing and kind-hearted, you faced challenges that Steve often wished he could shield you from. He saw how the societal standards of beauty affected you, and he knew that you struggled with self-image. 

One afternoon, while the two of you were sitting in the living room, you confided in Steve about a boy you liked but were unsure if he would like you due to your size. Steve listened intently, his heart aching for you

“You know, Y/N,” Steve said gently, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “you’re amazing just the way you are. Anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time." You smiled weakly, but Steve could tell that the insecurities were still very much present. 

You, though, harbored a secret of your own. The boy you told Steve about was no other than Steve's best friend, Bucky Barnes. 

Bucky was everything you had ever wanted—kind, funny, and impossibly handsome. You were genuinely not sure if Bucky ever noticed you in the way you wished he would. The turning point of your thoughts came one night when you were unable to sleep. You decided to go to the kitchen to get something to drink. 

As you crept down the hall you overheard a conversation between Steve and Bucky. You clung to the wall, trying to make out the words. Steve leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing with a knowing look as he stared at Bucky across the table. "You know, Buck," Steve began with a teasing grin, "I've seen the way you look at Y/N. It's pretty obvious you’ve got feelings for her." Bucky caught off guard, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Come on, Steve, it’s not like that," he protested, trying to sound nonchalant. "She's just... she's a good person, but there's no way I could date her. She's just not my type". 

Steve raised an eyebrow at that "What do you mean not your type?" he questioned hoping Bucky wouldn't say what he was thinking. Bucky swallowed before speaking "Well you know... Her size… I don't think it would work out." 

Your heart sank once you heard those words leaving his mouth. You felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You had always been self-conscious about your weight, but hearing Bucky dismiss you so coldly stung more than you could have imagined. You turned around to leave unable to hear any more ill things he would say. 

Steve’s voice was low, but there was a note of anger in it. "Bucky, that's not cool.  I don't want to hear any comments about her weight, or anything like that coming from you." Bucky's response was dismissive. "I know, man, but it’s just how I feel. It’s not going to change anything between us." Bucky met Steve’s earnest eyes, a flicker of understanding passing over his face. 

The next day you withdrew into yourself. You avoided Bucky and although you tried to maintain your usual cheerfulness, it was clear something was wrong. Steve noticed the change but respected your space. Over time as high school progressed, Steve began to notice subtle changes in your dynamic with Bucky's presence around you. 

At school, Steve saw you avoiding the places where Bucky used to be, not out of hostility, but more out of a desire to keep your distance. Bucky, on the other hand, appeared to be entangled in his own world, he was drifting away from the tight-knit circle they had once been. Steve couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but the change was noticeable. T

here was a growing depth that seemed to widen with each passing week—a silent testament to an unspoken tension that neither side fully addressed. Steve couldn't help but wonder about the reasons behind this gradual estrangement, feeling a mix of concern and confusion as the familiar rhythm of their friendships began to falter. 

Before they knew it, Steve's high school graduation was already approaching. Your parents had decided to through a party. The house buzzed with the lively chatter of guests celebrating Steve's graduation, but your excitement turned to discomfort when you overheard a conversation in a quieter corner of the room. You found Steve’s girlfriend, Sharon and Dolores, huddled together their voices low but unmistakably critical.

They were discussing your weight with a snide undertone, their words sharp and dismissive. Your heart sank and just as you were about to retreat, Bucky walked in, oblivious to your presence. With a casual smirk, he made a misguided attempt at humor, saying, "Well, Y/N always had a bit of a sweet tooth, hasn’t she?" 

The comment, meant to be light-hearted, only compounded the sting of the conversation you had just overheard. The room seemed to close in around you, the joy of the evening overshadowed by the weight of the unkind remarks and Bucky’s insensitive jest.

Once Steve graduated the two of you drifted into separate lives. You went on to finish your senior year and stayed closer to home after your graduation. While Steve ended up moving to a city a few hours away for college; You kept in touch but saw each other rarely.

One summer, Steve invited you to his apartment for a weekend. It had been a while since you had spent time together, and you were excited to catch up. When you arrived, you were surprised to see Bucky there, too. He seemed different—more mature, with a depth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. You hesitated at the doorway, unsure whether to approach or retreat, feeling the weight of unresolved feelings hang like a silent barrier.

You and Bucky found yourselves alone in a quieter corner of the room, a rare chance to catch up amidst the graduation festivities. 

“So, what have you been up to, James? " you asked, trying to keep the conversation light despite the lingering awkwardness. Bucky cleared his throat, shaking off the unease. “Not much, just working and trying to stay busy. It’s been a hectic year. How about you?”

You smiled, eyes lighting up. “I’ve been focused on my studies and trying to balance everything. It’s been challenging but rewarding. I’m thinking about grad school now.” Bucky nodded, genuinely impressed. “Wow, that’s great. You’ve grown up since I last saw you. I mean, you’re—” His gaze drifted momentarily, involuntarily wandering over your now curvier figure and the way your dress accentuated your form. 

His eyes linger down to the slight cleavage.  It took him a second to realize he was staring before he caught himself and quickly looked away, feeling a flush creep up his neck. The two of you spent a little bit more time together, talking. Bucky was attentive and considerate, for the first time, you felt like your old self.

As the summer wore on, you visited Steve more frequently and Bucky’s feelings deepened. He found himself falling for you in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He couldn't deny you were beautiful, not just in appearance but in spirit. The realization hit him hard—he had been wrong all those years ago.

Determined to make things right, Bucky planned to confess his feelings to you before summer ended. Steve had invited Bucky to come back to their hometown to celebrate your birthday. Bucky spent a week getting a perfect gift to rekindle your friendship, it was also the perfect time to confess his feelings. 

Steve and Bucky arrived at your birthday party, the atmosphere was lively and festive, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Bucky’s gaze was drawn immediately to you, who stood near the center of the room, effortlessly captivating in a light lavender dress that complemented every curve. The soft fabric flowed gracefully around you and the gentle hue highlighted your radiant complexion. 

Bucky was momentarily speechless, his usual confidence faltering as he took in the sight of you. You looked stunning, your beauty was more striking than he had remembered. Steve noticed Bucky’s reaction and gave him a knowing smile but Bucky was too mesmerized to register much beyond the striking image of you in the dress.

As time passed and you made your rounds around the party, you spotted Bucky alone in the corner. You decided to approach him. "Hey, thanks for coming" You smiled at him and he would  swear it was the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. " Of course, I wasn't going to miss your birthday and I had to bring you this." Bucky’s eyes drifted nervously to the elegant package he held. “I hope you like it,” He offered a warm smile. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to get you something special.”

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang, and your face brightened with anticipation. “Oh, that must be someone else arriving,” you said, excusing yourself from the conversation. Bucky watched as you hurried to the door.

When you opened it, your face lit up with pure joy as you greeted your boyfriend, Thor. You threw your arms around him and he lifted you off your feet in a warm embrace, planting a kiss on your soft lips. The sight was both unexpected and stunning. Bucky and Steve stood frozen, their mouths slightly agape, completely taken aback by the reveal of your relationship with Thor. The room seemed to pause for a moment, the air thick with surprise as Bucky tried to process the scene before him.

After your warm reunion with Thor, you turned and walked back toward Bucky and Steve, your hand intertwined with Thor's. You introduced him with a radiant smile. "Guys, this is Thor. Thor, meet my brother Steve and his best friend Bucky."

Steve, though clearly surprised by the revelation, extended his hand with a friendly grin. "Nice to meet you, Thor. Welcome to the party." Thor shook Steve's hand firmly, his own smile wide and welcoming. "Thank you, Steve. It's great to finally meet you."

Bucky, on the other hand, stood a little further back, his expression a mix of disbelief and confusion. He managed a stiff nod, still processing the shock of seeing you with someone as imposing as Thor. “Hey,” he said, his voice lacking its usual warmth. He extended a hand but his grip was less firm as if he was still trying to reconcile the image of Thor with the reality of their situation. 

Thor, noticing Bucky’s discomfort, tried to bridge the gap with his charismatic charm. “I’ve heard a lot about you two. Y/N has spoken very highly of both of you.” Despite the effort, Bucky remained visibly unsettled, his gaze shifting between you and Thor, trying to come to terms with this unexpected twist in the evening’s events.

You stayed with Thor for a little bit longer before leaving his side to make your rounds again. It was during this time that you were alone in the kitchen getting things ready for the birthday cake that Bucky found you. 

Bucky looked at you, struggling to find the right words. “Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you,” he began. You cut him off with a sad smile. “I know, Bucky.  I don't feel the same feelings for you anymore. I also overheard that conversation years ago.”

Bucky’s face fell. “You heard that?” You nodded. “I did. And it hurt, more than you can know.”

Bucky swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was an idiot. I’ve realized how wrong I was, and I want to make things right.”

You shook your head. “It’s too late for that now, Bucky. I’m with Thor and I’m happy. But thank you for saying something.”

The silence between them was heavy, filled with unspoken regrets and what-ifs. Bucky wished he could turn back time but he knew he had to accept the consequences of his past mistakes. 

You gave him a reassuring smile. “Take care, Bucky. It was good to see you again. Bucky nodded, his own smile tinged with a mix of regret and gratitude. “You too, Y/N, And happy birthday.” With one last look, he turned and walked out, leaving behind the echoes of their shared past and the complexities of the present.

TAGS 🏷️ @caothicshit @missvelvetsstuff @huntressandlioness1 @just-another-blog34411 @slytherclaw1227 @foxherder @MistressMischief @springdandelixn @hannibals-favourite-meal @sarahrogersevans @Tomandcakes @hallecarey1 @lyds247 @nana1000night @loopsisloops @mochie85 @imyourbratzdoll

add yourself to my tag list here

[musamora]

— 𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 + 𝖉𝖆𝖟𝖆𝖎 ₊˚⊹

pairing: osamu dazai (bungou stray dogs) x fem!reader

content warning(s): non-descriptive illness, kisses, cuddling, osamu dazai is a softie, tooth-rotting fluff, sickness care, ailment treatments, pet names (love, belladonna, baby)

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

“Osamu?”

You had awoken in quite a predicament. Swaddled in a clump of blankets with a cool washcloth pressed to your forehead, bubbling cups of tea and soup spinning steam into the air.

However, you partially clued in on the situation when you felt your head pounding. Your throat felt raw as a cough encroached on your breath, your skin was inflamed as sweat gathered by your temples, and your muscles ached as you attempted to stretch your arms. You were sick.

The smirking man before you was how you clued into the next part of your predicament.

“Yes, my love?”

You had no idea how long you had been swaddled up on the living room couch, but knowing Dazai, he had clued in on your sickness hours before you did. A perked brow was your sole response to him.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re sick.” He snuggled into your side, a lopsided grin on his face as he pressed kiss after kiss onto your skin with a coo. “My poor sweet baby.”

“You seem a bit too enthused about this entire thing.”

“Me?” he gasped. “I can’t believe you would accuse me of such a thing!”

He quieted his voice as you winced. “But who wouldn’t be?” he teased, sweet nothing whispered into your ears as he ran his nimble fingers through your hair, massaging them into your temples. “I have an excuse to miss work and spoil my sweet belladonna. Sign me up.”

“Did you somehow get me sick?” you deadpanned.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he whined, digging further into the blankets until he was snuggled up with you, bracing your body against his chest as he lazily burrowed into your neck.

“Mhm,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to his hands. “Watch out. You could get sick.”

“You’re saying that,” he smirked. “But you’re doing nothing to get away.”

“I’m sick, and you’re warm. Sue me.” You leaned into him as you toyed with his bandaged fingers.

He trailed kisses across your neck, his cool skin drawing a soft groan from your lips. “And that means I’ll have extra time to spend with my baby because she’s so sweet, and I know she’ll take of me.”

“Mm, I’ll consider it,” you mumbled, eyes heavy.

He gasped, much to your tired amusement, as tiny giggles escaped your lips between a cough. His arms were hot as they squeezed around your waist, and before long, you found yourself nuzzled into his chest on the cusp of sleep. His fingers traced your features as your eyes fluttered closed, a kiss pressed against your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

TAGLIST: @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @sillyspookycat @aureatchi @dazaisms

© MUSAMORA 2023 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[xxacademy]

tender

husband!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: succumbing to injuries inflicted by a B.O.W you fight the mental and physical battle to recovery. meanwhile, your husband does everything in his power to support you.

any leon timeline works, except re2. i did have older leon in mind though <3

a/n: inspired by lil a snippet from an anon request, find it here. anyhow, i love how this turned out, i was 🥺 writing it. pls lemme know what you think <33

content//warnings: depictions of blood & injury, hospital setting, non-graphic description of an IV, pain medication, y/n is used ONCE, pet names (dear, sweetheart, honey), hurt/comfort.

harsh white light wakes you revealing an image of horror. your trembling hands painted with your own dried blood, hooked up to an IV and a pulse oximeter. dazed, you know you’re in pain, but it’s not registering. it’s like you’re floating, possibly in a dream. a bad dream. but the reality of your condition is enough to confirm this is in fact not.

there’s a small group of medical staff standing at the end of your bed, talking quietly amongst each other. “the bloodwork came back, she’s not infected. all though the acid is wreaking havoc on her immune system, sending it into overdrive. the patient needs to be monitored for at least another two days.”

one of the nurses walks over to check on you, first, he looks at the monitors at your bedside, then goes to place a hand on your forehead. he notices you’re waking up, your heavy-lidded eyes focused on your hands.

he calls the doctor over, who pulls a chair up next to you. “hey, how are you feeling?” her voice is soft and calm.

“w-why am i here?” you mutter shakily, unable to make out much more.

“you sustained serious injuries on an extraction mission against a bio-organic weapon. you came in contact with its lethal acid, which is primarily why you’re here. your ankle is broken and you have puncture wounds in your arms.”

you’re still fixed on your bloodied hands, images of what you endured flood back. it was so intense- the last thing you remembered is a sharp talon-like claw piercing your upper arm. it all went fuzzy after that.

“you had surgery early this morning, and we have you on a morphine drip to help with the pain. please let us know if you begin to feel ill.”

you respond with an unsteady nod.

“you’re gonna be alright.” she smiles sympathetically.

another nurse comes into the room walking directly to the doctor. their speaking is hushed. “doctor, there’s a man here to see the patient. he says he’s her husband.”

“we can’t risk exposure from an outsider, we can’t have visitors yet.”

“he seems antsy.”

“well, assure him that she’s okay”-

the room is dead silent, so you can rather clearly make out what they’re saying.

“bring him in.” your voice quivering.

their heads turn, giving you a look of disappointment. similar to the one your mother gave you as a child. a sullen expression of remorse when she couldn’t afford to buy you new toys.

they do not want to hold your loved ones away from you. but it’s what has to be done. after all, it could mean life or death.

you sigh. you’re in no place to put up a fight.

“i’ll talk to him.” the nurse whispers. leaving the room.

“i’m sorry mrs. kennedy, you’re just not in a well enough state for visitors yet.”

you respond with yet another dreary sigh. fidgeting with the ring finger of your left hand.

your wedding ring is missing. you know you were wearing it prior. you’re always wearing it. sometimes you would loop it around a necklace chain, but you didn’t before this mission. surely it was on your finger.

“-doctor” you whisper.

“yes mrs. kennedy.”

“do you have my wedding ring?”

your tattered and blood-stained belongings were placed in a biohazard bag. a nurse picks up the bag feeling through the plastic for a ring.

“it’s not in here.” the nurse admits, a touch of anxiety in her voice.

“that’s okay.” you exhale.

it’s not okay. your beautiful diamond ring was more than just a pretty thing. it was one of the only sentimental pieces you coveted so highly. hand-picked by leon, it was a symbol of his undying affection. despite all the odds pinned against your love.

wanting to cry, but your bloodshot eyes are dry. the medication numbs you enough to let the pain run by, but you still feel broken, physically and mentally.

the hours pass as you bob in and out of sleep. your wavering limb’s finally settling. nurses and doctors are always present, constantly checking your vitals.

the next day two nurses come to bathe you at your bedside. gently wiping the sticky dried blood from your skin. the other trying to get it out of your hair.

“thank you, i mean it, thank you,” you whisper, fighting to keep your eyes open.

it was a relief. the sweet, metallic smell was driving you crazy. it felt itchy and uncomfortable against your skin.

…

leon hasn’t left the hospital. confined to a chair in the waiting room for the last day and a half. constantly flagging down staff for updates on your condition.

“she’s doing really well, the blood transfusion took perfectly.” the nurse smiles reassuringly.

“does that mean i can see her?”

“not yet, but soon.”

leon sighs. “well anyways, thanks for the good news.”

he sullenly returns to his chair. the stress and lack of sleep painting his under eyes dark. in his grasp is a picture you two took together, one he always carries in his wallet. it was taken a few years ago and you’re kissing his cheek. it’s the only solace he can find in the depressing waiting room.

leon had fallen asleep for the first time in over twenty-four hours. slumped over in his chair, chin resting in his palm. he jerked awake when his chin slipped. it was dark outside and the lobby eerily quiet.

3:47am

leon walks to the front desk heavy-footed and groggy. “my wife, y/n kennedy, is she okay?” his voice is grave.

“yes sir, she’s sleeping- and everything is looking good. but, you should get some sleep too sir, it’s gonna be a while until she wakes up.”

“-thanks.”

the pain of not being able to see you cuts like a knife. leon can't stand the image of you suffering and alone. but he’s borderline delirious from the sleep deprivation. he returns to his chair, lays his legs out across another, and falls asleep.

leon is jolted awake by a nurse tapping his shoulder. it’s morning- warm sun seeping through the windows and the smell of fresh coffee wafts through the lobby.

“do you need me to move?” he asks, still half asleep. voice deep and raspy.

“oh no mr. kennedy, your wife is on the right track to her recovery. you can go see her now.”

…

you feel much more alert, the daze the blanketing your apprehensive thoughts finally lifting. they switched you onto a far less invasive medication, which was probably helping.

it’s been a week since you’ve seen leon, and about two of those he’s been here, but just barely out of reach.

whenever the nurses praised you for the progress you made- you jump straight to asking if you're well enough for visitors. In your defense, it’s been unbelievably hard going through this journey alone.

the door creeks open, a very common occurrence of your stay. but instead peaking through the door is your blonde-haired husband.

you immediately start to cry- tears welling up and streaming down your cheeks. leon tears up too, casting a glossy filter over his blue eyes. he delicately wraps his arms around you, careful not to inflict any more pain. and you bury your face into his chest, immediately staining his shirt with your cry.

“i missed you, leon, i can't believe you’re here, i’ve missed you so much.” you sob.

“it’s really you, you don’t understand how much i’ve missed you, dear.”

you take your time, relishing in the comfort of your husband's arms. he gently rubs your back, consoling you with his touch.

“how're you feeling?”

“ugh okay, i guess. my whole body hurts and i can barely move. but the doctors say i’m improving- so yippee” your deadpan tone emphasizes how exhausted you are.

“that’s what i heard. and look, i know it’s been hard, but i’m so proud of how strong you’ve been, sweetheart.”

“i love you.”

“i love you, too” leon squeezes his embrace around you a little tighter, gently kissing the top of your head.

you smile, the first one in a while. but it quickly fades. “leon, can i tell you something.”

“of course you can.”

you fidget with your hands pressing your face deeper in his chest. “i lost my wedding ring- i think it was during the mission. i’m so sorry.”

“is that really what’s on your mind right now?” leon chuckles.

you look up at him with, tears streaming down your face. “you do understand how much that ring meant to me.”

“of course, i know, dear. but how can i care about the stupid ring if the wife i thought died is actually alive and in my arms?”

leon wipes the tears from your cheeks, his hand cupping your jaw. “i promise i’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“okay.” you say sniffling your runny nose.

with a big yawn, leon stands up raising both arms up into a stretch, his shirt lifts up slightly showing off his abdomen. “i’m going to find your doctor, see when you’re coming home.”

you smile. it’s nice not being alone. you feel bad knowing leon anxiously waited at the hospital for days. but there’s an unfamiliar warmth in knowing how much he cares. leon had always cared about you- before you were even dating. that’s one of the many reasons why you married him. aside from the ongoing list of shared interests- he’s so protective, it’s one of his beautiful ways of loving you.

leon comes back to the room, “looks like they need to run more blood tests, make sure that acid is out of your bloodstream before you come home.”

you’re totally spaced out, it feels like you haven’t even had a chance to take in what’s happened to you. it’s all become a blur, taking in the moments a second at a time. you were so worried about the details it almost failed to compute that you were nearly infected by the very thing you swore your life to rid of.

like a time release valve finally triggering; anxiety washes you cold- it could have been the end. leon would have been widowed, and all your friends would have been at your funeral. your mind is playing devil's advocate. what if i don’t get better? are the doctors just hoping i stay positive?

“are you okay?” leon’s bloodshot eyes are nearly aching with concern.

“i’m scared.” your chest is sinking deeper with each anxious breath.

“why? why would you be scared?”

it may not make sense to you now- but having leon there was a sort of reality check. alone, you just survived. with him, everything has weight.

“i dunno… i just want things to be okay. i want you to be okay, i want to get better.”

leon rushes to your bedside, holding your hands in his. “but it will get better- you’re doing better, so much better! i’ll be there every step of the way. i promise you.”

you take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. trying to hang on to his words.

you sob, absolutely overcome by emotion. “i love you, leon. thank you for being here, thank you for everything you’ve done.”

a nurse knocks at the door but you don’t let go of leon’s hand.

“mrs. kennedy- so sorry to intrude. but the doctor wants to do a scan of your ankle. is that okay?”

you wipe the tears from your face, trying to compose yourself.

“yes, of course, that’s alright, thank you.”

leon whispers “you got this, dear,” before standing up and sitting in a chair by the window.

…

leon has done everything possible to make the next few days easier for you. like ordering takeout and watching your favorite movies with you. serving as a distraction while you recover.

it certainly worked. he’s good at keeping you calm, and the energy light-hearted. you didn’t even think it was possible, given the grim reality of your circumstances. but somehow he can have your eyes filled with tears, giggling with laughter.

four days you’ve been in the hospital, and today is your last one. you’re able to stand up and the effects from the B.O.W are finally gone. granted you still have a long journey to recovery, at least you can go home.

…

after the agonizing hours of travel, you make it home. leon helps you into the house, guiding you to your bed. “i want to take a bath, i feel disgusting.”

“i’ll draw one for you, you want it now?”

“hmhm” you nod.

“sure thing, sweetheart.” leon tenderly kisses your forehead.

he runs a hot bath, adding a little lavender soap, just the way you like it. he walks you to the tub and helps you undress. he holds your hand as you shakily step in, slowly adjusting to the hot water.

“god my first real bath in a week, can you believe it.” you sigh, sinking your body in the bubbly water.

leon chuckles, “i know, you poor thing, those nurses really tried their best to help. but it’s never the same, is it?”

“…especially considering i was covered in congealed zombie guts”

leon laughs, “but look at you now, covered in…” he pauses to read the name on the soap bottle “…lavender dreams”

you both giggle, in love and delighted by each other's company.

“okay, i’ll leave you to it, holler if you need anything.”

…

“leon! will you fetch my bathrobe!” you yell from the bathroom. you hear his feet patter across the hardwood, “coming."

you stare at your reflection in the mirror as you brush your wet hair, inspecting the scars, bruises, and stitches that litter your body. it feels like you came home to a different person, a body you’re now unfamiliar with.

leon peaks through the door. head cocked to the side. “everything alright, baby?”

“i don’t know- it’s hard to wrap my head around it. i-i feel off.”

“c’mere i got something to show ya.” leon swoops you off your feet carrying you in his arms.

“what are you doing?” you giggle wrapping your arms around his neck.

“you’ll see.”

he delicately sets you down on the couch in the living room and sits next to you. he fumbles around in his pocket pulling out a little black velvet box.

“leon-honey, oh my god, what is that.” your eyes are round and doe-like, your bottom lip beginning to quiver.

he opens the box, presenting it to you as if his hands were a clamshell, revealing a glimmering ring set in pearlescent white satin.

“for you- i know it was hard losing the ring, but that one was beaten up anyways. you deserve something a little nicer.”

tears swell, gathering in the inner corners of your eyes. chocked up and rendered speechless, you mouth the words, i love you.

he reached for your trembling left hand, sliding the diamond wedding ring onto your finger.

“i love you, most.” he beams, the words fluttering with tenderness.

“i-i love the ring, it’s beautiful-truly. but how’d you do it?”

“do what?”

“get a new ring, you were with me the entire time…?”

“i have my ways,” he smirks, planning on keeping that little secret to himself.

leon holds your hand, admiring the way your hand looks adorned by his diamond ring.

“remember when we got engaged?” he muses.

“of course i do! you took me to milan, i should have known you were going to propose.”

“you have the same look in your eyes as you did then.” leon swipes his thumb along your cheek, smiling to himself, gazing into your eyes.

“and you’re as smooth as ever” you look at him through your lashes, pupils wide. “but really leon, thank you, means more than the world”

“you are my world.” his soft lips meet yours, kissing you gently.

somewhere in the crystal pools of leon’s eyes, you find the hope you were looking for. his unbreakable faith in you, alongside his never-ending acts of love, is reassuring.

hell, it’s not going to be easy, but at least you're not alone.

⭐️tags

@yourgentlegirlfriend

[runningfrom2am]

requiem // part one

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: hi again! obligatory note to say sorry i didn't update a couple days ago i meant to but i got hit by a car and then i was working lmao (i'm fine but the ao3 curse did in fact find me)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

"Mister Snow." Coriolanus's head jerks up at his name from where it was resting against his palm, nearly having fallen asleep by the side of your bed. You were out cold and had been for close to a week now, but part of him hoped he would be there when you eventually stirred.

"We have to ask you to leave now, but you can come back tomorrow after seven," The nurse tells him, a sympathetic smile on her face. This was the sixth night in a row they'd had this exact conversation.

"Of course, thank you," he grumbles as he stands up, rubbing his eyes.

"How is your mentorship going?" she asks, just for the sake of making conversation. "It is very exciting. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks..." he hums, hand sliding over his jaw in slight discomfort. He had little to no interest in his tribute. It was clear Lucy Gray had no shot at winning, and he had an even smaller shot at the Plinth Prize thanks to her. Now, he could hardly even stomach looking at her. "The Songbird," as everyone called her. 

In reality, his best friend had been forgotten the moment Lucy Gray Baird set foot on that stage in District Twelve and began to sing, and he loathed her for it. The way that all eyes turned to you next to him during the reaping as soon as his tribute's lips parted and began to sing made his stomach turn even now.

Coriolanus's eyes parted from the screen to look over at you, a small teasing smile on his face as he reached out to nudge you with his elbow when instead he was met with an expression of horror on your face. He could see the way your neck tensed as you swallowed hard, and he looks around to see almost everyone else's eyes on you as well for just a moment at a time, stealing glances in your direction.

Your jaw tightens while you grind your teeth together. She was good. But you were better at masking your discomfort with the whole situation, looking down to smooth out your black skirt where it lay across your lap and ignoring all the eyes that had fallen on you.

"It's going well," he lies in response.

"I'm glad to hear that. She's got a real talent, that girl," She smiles, and Coriolanus knows she's not trying to take a jab at the girl lying unconscious a few feet away, but he couldn't see it any other way. "Well, best of luck to her. And you, of course."

"Thanks. Have a good night," Coriolanus replies almost under his breath, taking a final glance at you fast asleep in the cold-looking hospital bed, neck bandaged down to your bruised shoulders before he leaves for the night.

It's sunny out when Coriolanus makes his daily trek to the Capitol Zoo to feed his tribute, and his academy uniform feels heavier on his shoulders than what he's used to.

His tribute smiles as she gets up and brushes off the front of her rainbow dress, making her way over to the bars to greet him. "Good afternoon, Coriolanus. Doin' well today?" she asks as he gets closer, already digging into his bag for the food he brought her.

"Fine," he mumbles in response, holding the folded napkin out to her that contains a cookie he took from the academy lunchroom.

"Thank you," Lucy Gray says as she takes it, unfolding the small cloth from around it and taking a bite. Chewing on it, she looks up at him again, taking note of the bags forming under his blue eyes. "I'm sorry about your friend."

His eyes flick from the cookie she was eating back up to hers, a slight glare behind them as he swallows stiffly. "Yes, well, she's alive," he tells her, looking back down as she breaks the cookie in half and holds it out to him.

"No, thank you," he shakes his head, pushing her hand away with his own.

"You should eat. You look like you need the energy," she says sympathetically.

He sighs because she's probably right. He takes it from her hand carefully, already breaking off a piece. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Lucy Gray knew their little routine by now. It was obvious when he brought her food the first time that he was going hungry. She had seen the signs enough back home to recognize it even here, hidden within what was supposed to be the endless opulence of the Capitol.

"Would you like to talk about it?" she asks as he begins to chew the tiny piece of the cookie, mindful of chewing and swallowing it slowly. He looks up at her again, confusion in his eyes. "Your friend, I mean." she explains.

"No." he answers quickly, shaking his head.

His semi-hostile response only leads Lucy Gray to believe that this girl she had seen get attacked meant something to him. Though, she already knew that when they walked into the zoo arm-in-arm like birds of a feather minutes before the girl was attacked, and her mentor had to be dragged away from her by Peacekeepers when a medical team finally arrived.

"Will you tell me about her?"

"About Y/N?" he asks, eyes softening just a bit.

Lucy Gray nods in confirmation, a small smile on her lips as she urges him on.

"She, uh..." Suddenly he doesn't know where to start with you. Your parents' names are what would traditionally come first in the Capitol, but he knew that would mean nothing to the girl in front of him. That you were his best and only real friend? That you were a singer, too, just like her, but you would likely never sing another note again? "She's a singer in training for the Opera House on Presidential Way. She is... she was very good."

Lucy Gray's eyes light up as he speaks. "She was a singer?"

Coriolanus nods, putting his focus back into eating.

"She must have been amazing," Lucy Gray says, trying to make comforting conversation.

"She is," he corrects her quickly, disguising it as agreement, despite having been the one to refer to your singing abilities in the past tense.

"Of course." She agrees, a sympathetic smile on her face. "I didn't mean..."

"They are making some changes to the Games." He cuts her off, wanting to move on to avoid having to think about the current state of his best friend. It makes his heart sink and the accompanying dread causes that awful burning sensation behind his eyes that makes him want to cry. "So... you need to sing again. Get people to like you. Then I'll be able to send you things in the arena to keep you alive."

Lucy Gray seems hesitant, letting out a huff with the slight shake of her head, looking around before locking her eyes back on him. "I don't sing when I'm told. I sing when I have something to say."

Coriolanus is jarred by her statement, tilting his head a bit and clenching his jaw at the notion and her ferocity behind it. He can't help it when the sudden, stark difference between Lucy Gray and his best friend hits him like a thunderstorm coming in quick on a sunny day. 

She sang when she had something to say, you sang because you had to. This fact would keep him up at night for weeks.

The games had come and gone, and there had been no winner this year. Your tribute was shot dead the day she attacked you, and Dr. Gaul saw it as some kind of justice that after your assault, the bombing, and the deaths of your other classmates, the death of all those District kids would keep their home districts from rebelling. From seeing the Capitol as vulnerable, or something like that. You really couldn't care less. At least Felix and the twins were lucky enough to have succumbed to their injuries.

The hospital was cold and dark at almost all hours of the day. You couldn't do a thing besides sit there and wait. For what, you weren't even sure.

"She's not having a good day today," The nurse informs Coryo as he checks in to visit you. He comes by every day, sometimes multiple times a day to see you, and you have your good and bad days. He's well used to that by now.

"Has she eaten?" he asks, and the nurse shakes her head.

"Refused to touch anything we brought her," She sighs, but she's fighting back a smile, which makes him raise an eyebrow at her. Why would she be smiling at that?

"She will be able to go home tomorrow," She smiles, hearing the question he never verbalized. "I thought you might like to tell her."

"Oh... I see," Coryo hums, looking down the hall toward the staircase he would soon take to get to you.

"You don't seem pleased," She states quizzically, her grin fading.

"Why is she going home?" He asks. "She still can't even speak."

The nurse looks down, pursing her lips. "As the doctor mentioned, there's no guarantee that she will ever get her voice back. I'm sorry, truly, but there's nothing more we can do for her here. It's better that she's home with her family recovering somewhere more comfortable."

"Right," He swallows, nodding curtly at her. "Thank you," He replies simply, brushing past the nurse's station to go down to your room. 

He can always hear it before he sees it, the echo of opera music cycling through your favorite records time and time again, filling the quiet hall with something pleasant as soon as he opens the door from the stairwell.

"Y/N," You look up from where you're sitting in the corner, tilting your head at him. Coryo smiles as he walks in, and you wish you were in a better mood, to be a better host; as good of one as you could be when you were in the hospital and couldn't speak a single word to him. "How are you feeling?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

You shake your head, a pout forming on your lips. The flowers people had brought you in your first couple of weeks were wilting, and then they stopped bringing them. Your whole life you had been praised for your voice; since you were six years old, the Capitol had seemingly been buzzing with hope for your future. You would be the most beautiful, accomplished singer Panem had ever seen - no one doubted it, but within weeks you had been completely forgotten. Replaced by the image of the girl who had sung at the reaping and once in an interview. Your room was quite a sad reflection of this, and you spent every minute of every day forced to wallow in it.

"Bad day?" Coryo asks anyway, but you just shrug, looking out the window at your sad view of the city that had abandoned you.

"Well, I've got some good news," He says, which draws your attention. You tilt your head at him, gesturing in a circular motion with your hand for him to go on.

He laughs, putting his bag down on your empty and perfectly made bed. "One second, here. In case you have questions." He pulls the small chalkboard out from the drawer next to your bed, holding it out to you with a piece of white chalk. You scrunch up your nose and wave rapidly for him to put it back. He knew it would bug you, that's why he did it, recalling the day he brought it for you and you almost threw it at him.

"I HATE writing with chalk," You scribbled quickly on a napkin with a pen you stole from his pocket, throwing the napkin at him and crossing your arms.

"What? Why?" Coryo laughed, dropping the crumpled piece of soft paper on the table next to your bed.

You shook your head, pursed your lips, and looked up, trying to find a way to explain the awful sensation without saying it. He watched you patiently as you thought, until you pretended to hold a piece of the white substance in between your thumb and forefinger, dragging it down the air slowly and pretending to gag. You shook your head again in disgust, waving your hand at him.

"Oh, I didn't know you felt so passionately about this," He drags the chalk down over the board, and you cringe, covering your ears. Coryo couldn't help but think that was just about the cutest thing he had ever seen.

That had been one of your good days, even though at the time your scar was still so fresh it was bandaged, and you were littered with bruises down to your ribs. The room was littered with fallen flower petals by now, yes, but also with what must be hundreds of notes you had shown to Coryo to express yourself in the only way you still could.

That memory still makes you smile, even if you do absolutely hate chalkboards. You walk past him and grab your notebook off the same table, picking it and the pen up as dramatically as you possibly can before sitting down on the bed and looking up at him.

"What?" He asks, just to tease you, and you roll your eyes.

'Get on with it. Also, you're not funny, and I hate you,' You write, turning the page to face him so he could read it.

"Oh, do you?" He chuckles, sitting down next to you.

You smack his arm with the book, motioning again that he should just spit it out.

"Okay! Okay, fine," He sighs emphatically, placing his hands on his thighs and looking down at the floor, just for a few moments to drive you more up the wall before turning his gaze to you. "They told me that you're going home tomorrow."

You open your mouth to speak, suddenly forgetting that you can't. You quickly shut your jaw, furrowing your brow and shaking your head. 'Why?' You mouth to him, neglecting the pad of paper in your lap.

He reads your lips, frowning at your lack of excitement. He was hoping you would be looking forward to it, but he knew you wouldn't be. Not really. "They said there isn't anything more they can do for you here, that you need to heal at home."

You stand up abruptly, throwing the paper down on the ground and clutching the pen so tight that Coryo fears it might shatter.

What do they mean "nothing they can do"? They could fix you, they could operate again, they could pump you so full of drugs that you could finally forget the hell that you're living in, that's what they could do. You couldn't even say that - or scream out your frustrations.

You turn back to Coryo, and the hurt look on your face crushes him. You want to speak to him so badly. Your lips fall open, and you try anyway. 'They're going to leave me like this?' You ask, but not a sound comes out. Not even so much as a whisper. Your throat burns regardless.

"I'm sorry," he says honestly, standing up and reaching out for you. You shake your head, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at him. "Come here..." he says softly, already wrapping his arms around you as the tears brimming in your eyes begin to fall. You can't even hug him back, hands clutched to your chest as you shake under his hold.

"If I could take this from you, I would," He mumbles, shaking his head and resting his chin on your head as he rubs your back. "I'm sorry, Y/N/N."

What he wouldn't give to be able to hear your voice again.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

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Safest with You (Ch. 20 - The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 1)

8.6K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Five months pass as you and Din try to forget one another.

Warnings: 18+ Content to be safe (MDNI please). Angst! (like a lot) Yearning, pining, mourning. People are hard on themselves in this one, folks. Nicknames (Din still thinks of you as Pretty Bird even though you're no longer his Pretty Bird; you're still Lil' Lady to Paz). And there is mild violence (of the Rory variety).

A/N: Thank you to everyone for being so patient with me! It's been a month since Ch. 19 and I guess this word count reflects that 😅😂 It could have been a little shorter but this ask convinced me to include the final scene instead of leaving it for the next chapter 🫣🤷🏻‍♀️ For that final scene, please imagine the suit/look from the Variety Hollywood issue shoot. The vibes of this and the next chapter is this scene in Twilight New Moon (cue 🎶it's a possibilityyyyyy🎶):

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

The week following that night at Din’s, you’re a shell of a person.  You cry for entire days but not much else - going on auto pilot taking care of Al but not yourself.  You don’t go to brunch that weekend, saying you feel disgusting, which honestly isn’t too far from the truth.  You’ve never been cheated on so you hardly know what it is you feel, only that an unyielding and tempestuous monsoon of emotions swirls inside you at all hours of the day.  You oscillate wildly between barely restrained hysteria, self-effacing shame, and sadness in an endless cycle.

To only your dog, you sometimes burst out half crying, half laughing at the absurdity of what you stumbled upon at Din’s apartment – how was it even possible?  Din, who you had loved with your whole heart, had pledged himself to you as you had him.  He had been your match in every way, and it was a tenant of his devotion that he only ever wanted to take care of you, make your life better.  How could the same man, without any warning, betray you in such an unfeeling and vulgar manner?  It simply could not be possible - it had to have been some type of cruel joke, you sob to Al. 

Then in an instant, you’ll turn your ire unto yourself: How could you have allowed this to happen?  Because it certainly did.  You stupidly let yourself be so blinded by love and desire that you didn’t see Din for what he was.  He wasn’t some honourable and noble protector; he was just some asshole who did and said what he needed to get his dick wet – and like an idiot you had fallen for it.  You were supposed to smarter than that, but it turns out you were just susceptible to a handsome face and a fat cock as anyone else.  The Din you had fallen for had been a total fabrication, and the dumbest part is that you had let him lie to you: you had blindly accepted that there were things in his life that he could never be fully honest with you about - that there were things that he just had to keep secret from you for your “own protection.”  You had accepted dishonesty as part of your so-called relationship right off the bat, it was no wonder that none of it had been real.  Stupid, stupid. 

Though you know now that it had all been lie, you still have moments, usually in the dead of night when sleepiness strips you of your ability to reason and overthink, where you simply just mourn.  Mourn the loss of what you had thought, no - felt in the very depth of your heart was a true, deep love.  It didn’t matter that it had all been an invention of your mind – the love you felt had been genuine for you, and you had cherished and held it dear.  The tears you shed during these periods of grieving are for the loss of your own false happiness and for the man that you had believed it.  It didn’t matter that they were never real to begin with, you had lost them all the same.

Your fog extends into the work week and you do something you haven’t done in ages: you take it off citing illness – you sleep, cry and try not to think of the crushing backlog you’ll face when you eventually return to work.  Near the end of the week, you make a phone call that you’ve been dreading but know is necessary.  Lala comes over the same day on her lunch hour – she thought you were just sick, having taken your excuse for missing the last brunch at face value, but when you burst into tears upon seeing her, she immediately knows that something is terribly, terribly wrong.

Taking you straight to her clinic, she slots you in with a fellow nurse right away so you can get what you’ve been dreading over with.  During the self-blame episodes of your emotion spiral, the weight of Din’s cheating and its possible consequences aside from the shattering of your heart have started to press down on you.  You definitely don’t need one more anxiety to occupy your thoughts, and this particular problem you could do something about.  You need to do something and accordingly you find yourself sitting in the clean but impersonal examination room answering the very kind nurse’s survey questions to determine what tests you need.

“Is there any particular reason you need a screening or is this routine?”

“My boyfriend cheated on me,” you say this flat, factually.

“Oh.  I’m sorry.   How long was your relationship?” her response is similarly dispassionate.

“Nearly a year.”

“During that time, how many sexual partners did you have?”

“Just the one.”

“Had you been tested prior to engaging in sexual activities with your partner?”

“Yes, all clean.”

“Was you partner tested?”

“He said he was clean.”  You can only answer what Din told you, with no confidence in whether or not it was the truth.

“Do you know how many other partners your partner had while you were together?”

“… no.”  Tears start to line your lower lash line.

“How long was he engaging in sexual activities with other partners?”

“… I really don’t know.”  Oh no, oh no, you’re going to cry.  Because you really don’t know any of it.  It's awful enough imaging that Din had been messing around with Vanessa the whole time that you and him had been together – if he was capable of that, who’s to say there weren’t others?

“Ok.  To identify the tests you need, I just need to ask about your sexual activities with your partner over the last year.  Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“Did you kiss on the mouth?”

“Yes.”

“Did you engage in vaginal fingering?”

“Yes.”

“Anal fingering? Receiving, giving?”

“Yes. No.”

“Did you engage in oral sex? Receiving, giving?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Did you engage in penetrative vaginal sex?”

“Yes.”

“With protection? Or without?”

“Without.”  This is the only question you answer with shame.  Yes, everything had been consensual, but this – the decision to not use condoms was one made based on a mutual trust; a trust you gave openly and willingly to someone who hadn’t deserved it.  You had been careless in this respect – caught up in your feelings and your mistaken instinct that had told you Din was worth trusting.

“Did you engage in penetrative anal se-“

And so on, and so forth.  To the best of your ability, you answer clinically and without feeling, trying not to let the white hot flames of shame and anger simmering in your stomach boil up and over.  You had trusted Din, with your heart yes, but also your body.  One of the things you had loved about Din was how he always seemed to prioritized both your emotional and physical comfort and safety during your sexual activities, but for possibly the entirety of your relationship, he had actually been putting you in danger – taking a risk for you that you hadn’t consent to.  You don’t know how many other partners he was with when he was with you or if he had been safe with them – his cavalier approach to your health makes you sick. 

This feels good. It feels good to be angry instead of sad.

You wait patiently for the nurse to return with the swabs and containers and other equipment you need to self administer the tests.  Silently and alone, you follow the instructions while hot tears cascade over your cheeks.  It had felt good to be angry at Din for a moment, but it took more energy than you had to sustain it; the anger burned out quickly, leaving behind only sadness and embarrassment for having allowed yourself to be put in this position at all.

After leaving the samples where directed, you redress and meet Lala back in the waiting room and she takes you home.  You tell her that it’s okay if she tells the rest of the girls what happened, but you don’t know if you can deal with talking about it just yet and she nods understandingly.  You know your friends will be supportive (and possibly violent), but the strength required to feel your feelings and simultaneously express and explain them out loud doesn’t sound like something you have right now.  Not for the first time, you’re grateful that your friends are unflinchingly kind and understanding of you.

By the time the next Sunday brunch rolls around, your internal reservoir levels for self pity and destructive thoughts have lowered considerably.  You’re mainly just sad for what you thought was and what will never be, wallowing in the loss of what you had imagined would be a happy future with Din.

The girls are not quite that far along in their emotional journeys, but you’re better equipped now to answer their questions and receive their outbursts and reactions.  They all have choice words for Din ranging from lying cheating bastard to dickless waste of DNA.  Threats of violence to his personal (and commercial) property, as well as his physical being are put forth, predictably by Rory and less predictably from Katie.  Bea and Jen focus on drilling into you that you’re in no way at fault and that you hadn’t been wrong or stupid to trust and love Din the way you did.  Lala, being the only one to have seen you when you were in your darkest place, just holds your hand firmly, giving it a reassuring squeeze every so often.  You cry into your eggs and your friends shower you with comfort and support until you feel a little more like a human who is loved again.

One month ATN (After That Night)

Oof - you’re hungry.  It’s been a long morning of straight through meetings with no breaks until only now.  Well past lunch, it’s later than you would usually come, but you hope that your favourite sandwich shop still has some good options left – you’re starving. 

Walking in, the shop isn’t busy (which honestly makes sense as it’s nearing 2:00 pm) and the take away fridge is fairly bare, but with some satisfaction, you see your favourite sandwich sitting all by its lonesome on the top shelf.  Hand already out as you approach the refrigerated display, you reach up on your toes, just to have a big hand dart in ahead of your smaller one and snatch the sandwich out of your reach.

Falling back on the flats of your feat, you’re comically upset – this sandwich was your reward for your overly hectic morning and your disappointment is being further fueled by rising levels of hangry.  Maybe this nice man will offer you back the sandwich if you ask kindly; ready to give this sandwich stealer the sweetest most saccharine smile you can muster, you turn to face him and…

“Paz?”

“Lil’ Lady?”

This could be awkward.  You had loved Paz too.  Part of the great sense of loss you felt when you and Din broke up was from also suddenly losing the friendships you had made through him.  The Mandos, Poe and Lisa, Cass and even Boba had made up what had become a little family to you; the sense of belonging and love you had felt when they welcomed you into their fold and treated you as one of their own was one that you had treasured – their trust in you was not something you took lightly and you had kept their secrets with pride.  You had loved them all as well. 

Of course, like a knife to the heart, you’ve since come to the hurtful realization that those friendships were not as true or deep as you had thought either.  In all likelihood, Din’s friends were probably well aware of his cheating, or at the very least that his feelings for you didn’t run as deep as yours did him.  Though it saddened you, you couldn’t exactly be mad – their loyalty was to Din, not you.  At one time you may have felt some bitterness at this, but right now, seeing Paz for the first time after so long… you feel only happiness at seeing an old friend.

There’s a beat of silence and then it seems you both reach for a hug - it’s quick but warm.

“How have you been?” you ask, simultaneously; chuckling with you, Paz gestures for you to go first.

“Oh,” you don’t really know how to answer; Paz will surely know what transpired between you and Din.  Devastated?  Crushed?  Facing a crisis of self-confidence?  You opt for a watered-down version of the truth, “I’m as good as expected.  Busy at work.”

“Same.  With work, that is,” Paz smiles warmly at you; he’s missed you too.

“You down here for work today?” Suddenly recalling that Din had been downtown for Mando work the first time you met, you try not to let the pain of the memory show on your face.

“Yup.  Work.” Paz won’t tell you that he’s on a security detail, even though its not yours (you're under the careful watch of Koska and Iggy today).

You’re not going to ask about Din.  You’re not going to ask about Din, “How is… everyone?”

Paz assumes you must mean Din but he doesn’t know how to answer your question.  A shell of a man?  A man possessed when it came to the investigation into the threat made against you?  Depressed as all hell?  Paz can only parrot back your earlier response, “Uh, as well as can be expected.  Things have been tense, there’s a lot of stuff going on.”

You obviously don’t ask for details – it’s not your place anymore, and in truth, you feel like it never really was but you try to smile anyways, “Well, you can have the sandwich then.”

Paz looks down at the sandwich he’s still holding in his hand and laughs, “Are you sure?”

Nodding happily, it feels good to joke around with Paz again, “Definitely.  I’m here everyday.  I can have it anytime.”

“Ok, only if you let me buy you your sandwich, Lil' Lady.”

Beaming, you acquiesce, “Deal.”

Grabbing another sandwich from the fridge, you join Paz in line; the two of you standing together in comfortable silence.  You don’t know how it happens but a question that’s been silently buzzing in your mind slips out without permission, “Paz – can I ask you?  Are Din and Vanessa still together?”

You regret it the second the words leave your mouth, tears springing to your eyes.  Looking up at Paz, wide-eyed and embarrassed, you cover your mouth with your hands as if trying to magically stuff the words back in, “Omigod!! Paz!  I’m sorry!  That was... oh gosh... just really, really inappropriate of me.  Please don’t answer.  I never should have asked that.  Seriously.  Don’t answer please.  Besides, I don’t think either answer would make me very happy.”

Paz gives you a warm side hug and a sad look before he says reassuringly, “It’s okay, Lil’ Lady.  Don’t worry about it.”  He insists on buying you a cookie when you get up to the counter and you accept gratefully – you need all the comfort you can get right now.

The two of you say your quiet, but friendly goodbyes on the sidewalk outside of the sandwich shop; each genuinely hoping you’ll see the other again, but knowing that you likely won’t.

---

Paz is hovering.  Din can feel it, but he doesn’t look up from his seat on the ringside bench where he’s checking through an equipment list on his clipboard.

Paz continues to shuffle around until Din sighs and gives in to what his friend so obviously wants; looking up and tilting his head as his way of saying 'What?'

“Saw the Lil' Lady today.”

Immediately, Din’s heart leaps into his throat and his now empty chest constricts painfully; forcing himself to look back down at his paperwork, Din only grunts to acknowledge that he heard Paz.  Clearly Paz has something to say and in all the time they’ve been friends, Din has never been able to get Paz to keep his thoughts to himself, so he just waits.

“Ran into her at a sandwich shop near her office.  She looks good.”

Silence.

“She gave me her sandwich.”

Din closes his eyes, “Was it the egg salad?”

“Yeah.  How did you know?” Paz can’t hide the surprise in his voice.

“It’s her favourite,” Din says simply. 

For some reason, this takes all of the wind out of Paz’s sails and he lays a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “She asked how everyone was, but it’s clear she was thinking of you.  Why don’t you call her, brother?”

Even if the whole point of what he had done to you wasn’t so you would stay as far away from him as possible, Din can’t imagine a world where you would want to talk to him, “She hates me.  I fucked up, and I hurt her.  She doesn’t think about me.”

Paz doesn’t want to bring up your question about Vanessa, but he can’t help but think it must mean something that you asked at all, “Maybe she’ll forgive you.”

Din is done with this conversation; he gets up and starts to head towards his office, “I don’t deserve her forgiveness.  I don’t deserve her.”

Two Months ATN

Din never allows himself to see you.  You’re a creature of habit and for the most part, your life after him has reverted to normal; it would be so easy for him to catch a glimpse of you whenever he needed to see for himself that you’re alright.  If he was lucky, he might even catch one of your many soft and sweet expressions that he misses so much and be able to pretend for a moment that it was for him.

But he doesn’t allow it.  Part of it is a means of self punishment – Din chastises himself endlessly for hurting you; he doesn’t deserve to look upon your face, he doesn’t deserve any comfort.  But ultimately, it really comes down to his own lack of self control. 

Din makes the mistake of checking in with your daytime security detail in person only once, a couple of weeks after your breakup.  Din is chatting with Mayfeld through the latter’s rolled down car window, when, as if he senses your very presence, he looks up to see you exiting your office building looking positively elated at being able to leave work at a decent hour (for you) – your quick and graceful steps towards the subway easily hold Din’s gaze through no effort of your own and his body starts to move towards you of his own accord.  He may have very well walked right into oncoming traffic trying to get to you if Miggs didn’t have a firm grip on the back of his shirt.

No, he has absolutely no self control when it came to you.  Every part of Din yearns for every part of you.  Your smile, your laugh, the sweetness of your very being and the steadfast comfort of your company.  He wishes for nothing more than to make you happy again, to be there for you to lighten your load, to make you laugh so hard you snort, the way he used to pride himself on being able to do; what he wouldn’t give to hear you coo sweetly to Al, to swim in the melodic lilt of your voice when you recall a funny story from work or your friends, or to drink in your heady moans and cries while he gave you every pleasure you deserved. 

Din knows that if he allowed himself to be in your presence for even a moment, he would throw himself at your feet and beg for forgiveness.  Plead and grovel until you took him back and then everything, the very reason for all this misery, would be for naught.  He would do anything to see you, hear you, have you again, except risk your safety.  So, he leaves the protocol for your security to others, and he never lets himself go where he knows you might be – he exercises what control he has, so that he never loses control where it counts the most.

But his dreams he cannot control.  And Din dreams of you constantly.

He comes to both look forward to and dread these dreams.  In his dreams you don’t hate him, and they almost always start off with you looking at him like you used to, with love and admiration.  Sometimes the two of you are in a memory, maybe a special date or occasion, or even better, doing something beautifully mundane like walking Al – something the two of you did a million times without thought, just a routine part of the life you had started to build together.  But more often than not, the two of you are in bed.  Sometimes his, sometimes yours, but always just looking, talking, touching.  Din could live in these quiet moments of devotion forever. 

But the dreams never end well.  He discovered that once you left the bed in the dream, you would disappear.  Getting up to find you, Din would find the apartment empty and quiet and no matter where he goes in the dream afterwards, you would be nowhere to be found.  After this happened a few times, he would try to keep you in bed or at the very least, not let you out of Dream Din’s sight, but it never works.  No matter what he does, by the end of the dream you’re not his anymore. 

A horrifying recurrence as of late is that he follows Dream You into your kitchen to find Vanessa sitting at the island while you, crying, start to cook breakfast at the stove for him and her.  He recognizes the look you give him whenever he reaches this part of the dream, it’s the same one you gave him on that last night on his apartment landing – the look of devastation, betrayal, shock.  Your unspoken How could you?  You were supposed to love me above all else, haunts him even after he wakes with a start.  Every time Din has this dream, he relives what he did to you and he feels sick.

Even when it’s not this particular iteration, Din wakes from every nightmare of losing you again sweating and regretting everything.  In these moments, alone in a bed that’s remained cold and uninviting since you last graced it with your soft body, Din tears into himself.  What the fuck was his problem anyways?  He had made his proverbial bed and now he has to lie in it.  What would have been the fucking point of putting you through all this if he was just going to be a weak ass piece of shit and run back to you because it killed him to be apart from you?  Put you through hell and then put you in danger?  No, he can't run from it anymore: this is the price he has to pay for being who he is, for having done the things he had – he doesn't deserve good things.  He doesn't deserve you. 

What he does deserve is this cruelest of ironies: that the only way he's still allowed to love you is to take care of you by keeping you as far away from him as possible.

Four Months ATN

Oy!  Din Djarin!!

Startled by the loud and sharp toned voice that carries over the noise of traffic, Din stops in his tracks; turning towards the sound of the bark, he recognizes your friend Rory barreling towards him.  For a moment, he’s terrified that she might get hit by a car crossing the street to get at him, but the cars somehow seem to understand the determination of her gait and the ferocity in her facial expression and all roll to a stop at her outstretched hand.  You always said that Rory was a force.

Din waits dumbly in the middle of the sidewalk, ready to take the inevitably beating, verbal or otherwise – certain he could not escape her wrath even if he wanted to.  Perhaps he would be tempted to try if he didn’t wholeheartedly believe that he deserves whatever is about to come his way.

As soon as Rory steps up onto the curb, two balled up fists of rage ram right into Din’s chest, the force of which, if he had not been braced for it, might have sent this former boxing champ flying backwards.

You!!! 

An accusatory finger is now poking him incessantly, over and over, pushing right into his sternum.

Din holds his two hands up, as if to surrender, but doesn’t do anything to stop her oncoming assault.  It’s starting to hurt a little, but he knows he deserves it and more.

Liar!

Cheater!

Pathetic!

Asshole.

Garbage human.

Piece of shit.

How you could do that to her?!

She did nothing but love you. 

She’s the sweetest, kindest, most loving person you will ever fucking be with, and this is how you treat her?

You ungrateful worm.

You’ll never find anyone better than her.

You never fucking deserved her, you twat.

Din takes every angry word spat at him with a resigned expression and downcast eyes.  Every word is true and he knows it.  He welcomes this even.  No one has been angry with him, except save himself.  Not Paz, or any of the Mandos, not even Boba.  No one has yelled at him or hurled insults at him, or called him out for the despicable person he is to have hurt you the way he did.  His sweet, pretty bird.  No, not his anymore.  He swallows every single one of Rory’s admonishments willingly and his head might even slightly nod in agreement.

Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, you fucking coward?

Arms dropping to his side in defeat, Din hangs his head and asks the only thing he wants to know, even though he's sure he isn’t allowed, “How is she?”

How is she?! What the fuck do you mean ‘how is she’? How the fuck do you think she is??

“What I mean is… I’m not still hurting her, am I?”

Silence.

“She’s okay now, right?  She hates me, but I don’t matter anymore?  She doesn’t think of me enough to still hurt her?”

Rory stops and evaluates the man standing in front of her.  He looks… broken.  She’s been throwing all her weight into every push, poke, smack she’s laid on Din and he’s taken it all.  Absorbed it along with every harsh word out of her mouth; he hasn’t fought back or even flinched - almost as if he wants her to hit him.  To scream at him.  And now, with the only words he’s spoken, he’s asking to confirm, with what almost sounds like hope, that you’ve forgotten him.  Din’s choice of words strike Rory as odd.  He wants to make sure he’s not “still hurting” you?? 

Suddenly, her mouth drops open as she retracts her hands, “… you didn’t do it.”

Din looks shocked and almost terrified.  He opens and closes his mouth several times but nothing comes out.  No denial or refute of what Rory now realizes has been completely obvious.

“You didn’t cheat on her.  You never cheated on her,” Rory’s tone is softer now, but determined and confident.  She’s leaving no room for argument, not letting Din worm his way out of the truth.

With a sigh, Din has no choice but to confess, “How could I?  Why would I ever want anyone but her?  The most perfect creature to ever exist.”  If he had seemed defeated before, Din is now positively deflating right before Rory’s eyes.

“You love her.”  Again, not a question.

“Always.  Forever.”

“Why w-”

“Rory, please.  You must never tell her.  She has to go on hating me and wanting nothing to do with me,” fear is catching up with Din now.  If Rory tells you the truth, this plan to keep you safe will unravel.

Rory’s eyes widen in disbelief, “You have to be joking.  Do you know what you put her through?  And it’s not even true??”

Quietly, Din asks, “How much has she told you and your friends about what I do?”

“That you own a gym?” Rory crosses her arms and gives Din an incredulous look.

“What else I do.  What my old job was.  Who I worked for.  Who I’m connected with,” he has to be able to make her understand.

Rory lets these words hang in the air for a moment.  No – you were always pretty tight lipped about what Din might be involved in outside of athletics.  It did seem that in the months leading up to your breakup, you would often stress over Din’s work and wellbeing, and though your friends never asked you to expand on it, it wouldn’t make sense for the responsibilities a gym owner to give you that kind of anxiety.

“You got a knife wound once.  Lala told us,” Rory recalls.

Din nods, “And that was nothing.  That’s the least of what the people who might come after me would be capable of.  She’s in danger just by being with me.”

“You wouldn’t protect her?”

“Of course, I would.  With my life.  But why should she be in danger at all?  She didn’t choose this life.”

“She chose you.”

“She shouldn’t have.”        

“You don’t get to decide that for her?!!”

Din knows that.  He shouldn’t have chosen for you.  But he made the decision that he thought would keep you safe and now you both have to live with his mistake, “I know, Rory… I know, but it’s done now.”

“Undo it, asshole.”

Like he hasn’t thought about it a million times.  Like he doesn’t wake up and his first thought when he opens his eyes in the morning isn’t to find you and crawl on his hands and knees and admit that he had fucked up in how he handled everything and beg your forgiveness.  Sometimes Din’s halfway out the door before one of two things stop him.  The first is the very real possibility that you would tell him to go to hell – you had loved him better than anyone ever had, better than he deserved, and he had callously thrown away the greatest gift ever bestowed upon him.  The second, is the very real fear from the threat made against you; Din hasn’t eliminated it and what if, just what if, what he’s doing is actually working and removing you as a worthy target?  Yes, he shouldn’t have gone about things this way, but… what if it was keeping you safe for now?

“Someone threatened her, Rory.”

This stops Rory as she’s about to open her mouth to say something else.  Closing her mouth, she studies Din and her shoulders drop, “Who?”

“I don’t know.  I haven’t been able to find out who’s behind it but I will.  Until then, I have to try and make her less of a target.  Please.  Rory.  Please.  Make sure she stays away from me.  You can’t tell her any of this.”

“But… she doesn’t know?”

“No. I don’t want her to be scared.  And she is being protected - all the time, I promise.  But the safest thing for her is to stay the hell away from me.  If whoever wants to hurt me doesn’t think they can do it through her, then she’ll be safe.  Please, Rory.”

Din is begging her now.  His eyes imploring Rory to understand and decide as he once did, that your well being has to come above all, including loyalty and love.  He sees it in her eyes as she relents, much the same way his must have once upon a time, and she nods, “Okay. I won’t tell her.  And you promise she’s safe right now?”

“I promise.  I… wouldn’t be able to live like this if I couldn’t at least do that for her.”  Is it worth it?  Yes, your life, your safety is worth anything and everything to him.

“You think you can get them?  The people behind the threat?”

Din nods, “I’m sure of it.  I’ll make sure of it.  I’ll take care of it.  That’s a promise I won’t break.”

“Okay.  You should tell her afterwards though.”

“Maybe.”

“She deserves the truth, Din,” Rory gives him one last exasperated look.

“She deserves the world, Rory.”

The two of them give one another a silent nod of mutual understanding before parting ways.  They might not see eye to eye on everything, but Din trusts that your friend will put your wellbeing and safety first; she loves you just as much as he does.  Rory leaves Din behind feeling conflicted in a way she hadn’t thought possible when she confronted him earlier – the last thing she expected was to sympathize with him, but it’s become clear to her: the only person who’s been hurting more from your breakup than you, is Din.

Five Months ATN

“I want to go out with Mark.”

Four heads look up from their brunch with lighting speed to stare at you, shocked by your sudden announcement.

Feeling a bit awkward at this reception, you go on, “… I mean if he’s even still available.  And if he’s not, is there someone else at your firm that might be, Jen?”

Jen looks at you curious and hesitantly excited, “I can check, but I don’t think he’s in a relationship?  He broke up with someone a couple of months ago.  You really want me to set you up?”

You don’t catch the looks that Rory and Lala exchange before Rory cautiously asks, “Do you even like Mark?”

“Hey!” Jen looks scandalized.

You’re slightly bewildered watching your two friends seemingly stare daggers at each other, “I don’t even know Mark? I just…” 

You sigh. 

“… I just have to do something.  Try something new.  Babes, it’s been months and… I’m still not over him.”  Your friends know that the “him” in question is not Mark.

It’s been five months and you’re still in a state of melancholy and heartbreak that you can’t quite articulate.  The days where you’d cycle through extreme emotion, be it intense sadness, justifiable anger, or self-pitying shame, have long since passed.  You burned those emotional candles to their proverbial wicks and for the time that they were lit within you, they served their purpose.  You’ve processed those emotions and laid them to rest.

What remains is a type of grief, a longing from your soul that you struggle to contain on a day-to-day basis.

The best way you can think of describing it is Hiraeth – the Welsh word that conveys the feeling of “a longing for a time, place, or person that feels like home but may no longer exist or that never existed at all”; when you miss Din, it feels like a type of homesickness.  And though far from being lonely in your life, your heart nevertheless maintains an empty chamber that you are dearly afraid may be forever reserved for Din.  Your Din.  The one you had loved and thought loved you.

You miss it all - everything that had never been real: the closeness, the intimacy, the safety of Din’s embrace.  You miss the way he looked at you and made you feel like the only person in the world who mattered; you missed his adoring touch and the way that he would be soft and gentle with you when you knew he harnessed such strength and power within those same hands.  He had made you feel cherished and special, appreciated and exalted.  Yes, it had all been a lie, but you heart had believed in it and the memory of what you’ve irretrievably lost haunts you every day still.

You’ve never been one to believe the adage that to get over someone, you had to get “under” someone else and you’re certainly not looking to replace what you thought you had or even date for the sake of dating.  You’re just simply out of ideas.  You need… a distraction.  A real-life person to think about, instead of one that only ever existed in your head.

“Don’t push yourself if you’re not ready, babe,” Lala says, gently.

“I don’t want to ‘get back out there.’ I just need…”

“A rebound?” Rory’s assessment is unfortunately, spot on.

You look sheepish, “That sounds terrible.  But something like a distraction.”

Jen is hardly bothered, “It’s okay.  I won’t tell Mark but I don’t think he would mind even if he knew.  Men are weird as hell.”

Everyone laughs and you go back to your breakfast, half listening as Jen chirps some of Mark’s merits and tells you that she’s going to try and set something up for the upcoming Friday.  You don’t notice the worried and pinched looks that Lala and Rory continue to give one another for the remainder of brunch.

It’s absolutely pouring today.  The phrase ‘raining cats and dogs’ must have been inspired by a similar rainfall, you’re sure.  You hold your umbrella as close to your head as you can while deftly trying to keep your shoes dry by doing little and big hops to avoid puddles.  It’s a relief when you finally make it to the overhang in front of your office building and can shake out your umbrella before stepping inside.  Wiping your feet on the already soaked through mats that building maintenance has put down, you wonder if the weather will clear up before your date with Mark tomorrow.

You’re slipping your still dripping wet umbrella into a plastic sleeve when you hear a commotion by the security check desk.  Gabriel, the head of security is arguing with someone who by the looks of it is soaking wet and trying to get through the security turnstiles.  As you approach with your own access card already in hand, the voices get louder:

“Dude.  Come ON!”

“Miss, like I said, you have to have security access in order to move past this point.”

“I’m not going to go anywhere in the building, I promise!  I just need to get to the subway.”

“I heard you already, miss.  You’ll have to use one of the other two subway entrances.  This one is for people who have access to this building only.”

“It’s pouring!! Can’t you see?  The other two entrances are both over a block away and I’m already soaked!  I just want to get home!”

“I won’t ask again, miss.  Please leave.  There are people who need to get through.”

You’re shocked.  You’ve never heard Gabriel get frustrated or raise his voice before.  But that’s not why you’re shocked.  It’s the girl’s voice.  You know it. 

It’s Vanessa.

In some other universe you might hail this as karma, but in truth, you only have sympathy for the girl you see before you.  It really is miserable out and you’re sure that Vanessa isn’t some corporate espionage spy – she really is just asking for a little help to get out of the rain and home before she gets sick.  Without overthinking it, you come up behind her and give Gabriel a reassuring smile, “It’s okay, Gabriel, I can take her to the subway.”

Vanessa turns and looks at you with a wide-eyed, almost scared expression on her face.  You can’t help but feel bad for her.  Obviously because she’s soaking wet and shivering, but you think she must not have been met with much kindness in her young life.

“Ma’am, that’s not really protocol…”

Your reassuring smile is now extended to Vanessa as well.  You want her to know you’re here to help her, truly, ��Gabriel, it’s fine.  I know her.  And, even if I didn’t, I could never let you send a woman out into that downpour when we could so easily help her get to where she needs to go, okay?”

Gabriel nods as you swipe your access card against the reader and you gesture for Vanessa to go through before you follow.

The two of you walk silently towards the subway for a few moments.

“You don’t have to…”

You wave off Vanessa’s concern, “I think Gabriel’s watching, so I’ll just walk you all the way to the subway entrance so he doesn’t give you anymore trouble, okay?”

She nods and the two of you continue on.

“You don’t have to be so nice to me.”

Your answer is genuine, “I really don’t know any other way to be towards you.”  It’s true.  Yes, Din had cheated on you with her, but you hadn’t been dating Vanessa, you had been dating Din.  He had wronged you, not her (even if she had probably been a bit smug about it).

Vanessa nods again, the expression on her face seems to relax into some kind of revelation that you don’t quite understand.  When you get to the subway entrance, the two of you pause awkwardly before she finally speaks, “Thank you.”

Again, you try to smile as kindly as you can, “It’s okay.  I meant what I said to Gabriel – I didn’t like that he was trying to send you back out in the rain.  Here.” You hold out your umbrella, still in its plastic sleeve.

Vanessa doesn’t take it, even as you continue to extend it in her direction, “I don’t know how far you have to go once you reach your stop – the rain may not have let up by then.  Really, take it.  It’s my firm’s – I have a bunch more upstairs.”

This time she does open her hands and when she grasps the umbrella’s handle to take it from you, she blurts out, “I never slept with him!”

Silence hangs between the two of you at her statement.  You don’t know what she means at all, so you just say, “I’m sorry?”

Vanessa is looking down at the umbrella in her hands, words just spilling out, “That night.  The night you ‘caught’ me and Din – you didn’t walk in on anything.  I don’t know how, but he said he knew you were coming over and he asked me if I could make it look like he and I had been sleeping together when you showed up.  We didn’t do anything.  I played on my phone on the couch until we heard you knock.  I- don’t know why I did it… actually… no, that’s a lie.  I do.”  She finally looks up at you.

“Din was so in love with you.  Like seriously, so stupid in love with you.  He hadn’t been with anyone for a while before he met you, and those of us who… had gone out with him once or twice just got used to it, I guess.  Like we wanted him but he didn’t want anyone and that was fine.  Then he met you and all of a sudden, he was the doting boyfriend, head over heals in love, showing you off to all his friends, taking you to meet Boba.  And then it was so clear: it wasn’t that he wasn’t the boyfriend type, it was you.  He only wanted you.  I guess… I was jealous.” Vanessa shrugs, ashamed, “So when the chance came up to hurt you... I jumped at it.  I’m sorry.”

To say you’re shocked would be an understatement.  There is so much to process.  You’re not sure what Vanessa is asking from you, but you do appreciate her honesty, “I mean, I guess I get why you did it.  But why did Din?”

Vanessa shrugs again, “I really don’t know, I didn’t ask.  It didn’t matter to me, I guess.  I’m sorry.  But after you left, I… propositioned him?  Thought I would shoot my shot since we were both basically half undressed.  He turned me down and practically kicked me out.  All he cared about was making sure you got home safe.  You’re all he cared about.  Always.  It was only ever you.”

“I- ” you’re speechless.  Actually speechless, “Thank you for telling me, Vanessa.  I- still don’t understand any of it, but I always appreciate honesty.  Truly.”

And with that, Vanessa gives you a little wave of the umbrella you gave her as a final thanks before she disappears down the stairs into the subway station, leaving you dumbfounded and shellshocked.

It had been a lie.

Din hadn’t cheated on you.  Not with Vanessa.  Not that night, or according to her, any other night.  You had been his one and only.  The way you had always thought.  The way he had always made you feel.

Every spiraling assumption and devastating conclusion you’ve drawn about your relationship over the past five months is now being called into question: that he never loved you, that he wasn’t the man you believed him to be, that the devotion in your relationship had been one sided.  Had it all been real?  Was your Din real?

But he had lied. 

He had made up an elaborate lie to get away from you.  To hurt you.  This revelation gives rise to feelings that you thought you had long worked through and put to bed: betrayal, hurt, disbelief, anger.  On top of this fast rising tide of emotions that you’re afraid might drown you rides a question you've never felt like you wanted the answer to when it was simply that Din was a cheater: Why?

The date is going okay, you think.  Actually, it’s going exactly how you knew it would – you’re not into it.  Mark is honestly nice enough, funny enough, charming enough – you can see why Jen was always trying to get you to go out with him.  But he’s not Din.

You haven’t told anyone about your run in with Vanessa because you still don’t know what to make of it all; you have pieces of a puzzle that you didn’t even know existed, new questions, even fewer answers, and a whole new host of confused feelings.  Unsure of your own heart, you hadn’t known what to say to Jen to cancel this date that she lovingly setup for you at your request, so here you are.

Even if your overthinking brain wasn’t in overdrive analyzing and reanalyzing everything you learned yesterday, your heart, which is still working out your feelings towards Din, has unequivocally softened.  The Din of your memories, the one for whom your heart still beats deep down had been real, and he had never betrayed you in the manner you believed for the past few months.  The love you had felt with him had been true and the affection and devotion that had been cornerstones of your relationship have started making their way back into your chest.

You feel sort of bad about Mark.  Yes, you had been very clear with Jen and yourself that this date didn’t mark any great interest of yours to start dating again, but you know you could be putting in more of an effort on this date.  You try.  You really do.

After the pre-dinner drinks are finished and the waiter’s taken your dinner order, you excuse yourself to use the restroom, hoping for a few minutes alone to gather your thoughts.  Heading towards the bathrooms, you walk down a hall that opens to the restaurant’s private party rooms on one side.  All the doors are opened and you peek in to see that most of the rooms are empty, one of them being cleared from a large party that must have just left; when you get to the last doorway, you’re stopped dead in your tracks when you see who's inside.

It's Din.

He’s leaning back in a chair that’s been placed further back and away from the dining table that must centre the room; part of the meeting but not an active participant – a perimeter guard.  His handsome profile is as striking as you remember; his strong aquiline nose and cut jawline that’s currently flexing as he swallows hold your attention by their very existence - how is he here just when all your thoughts happen to be of him?  Din’s chocolate brown eyes are fixed on someone or something in the room, but he must feel your gaze because he turns and sees you – keeping his expression neutral, as if he doesn’t want anyone else in the room to notice you, you still see his eyes soften as they lock with yours and your heartbeat picks up a little.

Hi, you mouth shyly.

Hi, Din's lips curve up slightly at your sweet expression as he mouths back, you look nice.

You do too, because he does.  He’s in a black suit with a crisp white shirt and jet-black tie; the monochromatic look works for him.  Din’s slicked back hair is different – you’re so much more used to seeing his curls loose and tousled, but the change isn’t unwelcomed.  He looks professional.  Devastating.

Work?  Your head tilts a little so you can see a little further in the room and Din knows you see Paz sitting in front of him wearing a nearly identical outfit.  He nods, You?

Date.

Din nods slightly, eyes unreadable, Be safe.

I will. Not sure how much more you can communicate this way or even what you want to say, you give Din a little wave before continuing down the hall to the restroom.

---

Din cannot sit still.

Date? You were on a date?

But that’s not even the most jarring thing about seeing you unexpectedly tonight at the same restaurant where Boba’s holding a family meeting.  What’s really turning Din’s world upside down is that you didn’t look upset to see him.  Your expression was soft, kind and inviting.  As if you didn’t hate him. 

You’re over him.  That has to be it.  You were over him, wholly and completely; much too sweet to hold onto any malice towards him, you had treated him politely, like an old acquaintance.  He wants to be glad – happy that you’re no longer hurting and that his transgressions against you didn’t leave a permanent mark on your beautiful soul.  But his heart feels like it’s made of lead; dropping from his chest into his stomach when he thinks of you being on a date.  Din gets up and takes a walk towards the main dining room of the restaurant, looking to satisfy his morbid curiosity.

He sees you right away.  Your back is to him, but he knows its you.  You sit across from a perfectly respectable looking man dressed in a sharp suit – the both of you clearly having come straight from work.  The man probably has some smart corporate job like you, like a lawyer or someone who underwrites space rockets or something cool.  The man is making you laugh; Din can tell by the way your shoulders shake.  He imagines your smile and the way that your eyes crinkle when you think something is super funny but you don’t want to let loose one of those melodic laughs of yours where you throw back your head and the resulting song carries over the crowd.  Din watches as you swirl your wine glass the way he always thought was super adorable, with two of your fingers pressed against the base of the glass stem, before you lift those same fingers to make a gesture with your hand that indicates you’re adding to your date’s story with some witty comment of your own.  Your date’s face lights up and his look of admiration and joy from the pleasure of your company is one that Din knows well. 

He decides can’t watch anymore and slinks back down the hallway; heart ripped to pieces, leaving you to your pleasant evening.

Thanks so much for being patient with me - these chapters are emotionally hard to write and even harder to edit 😅 Since I'm once again yeeting this into universe on a random day instead of my usual posting date, adding a few tags for those who have expressed an interest in the story (omigod if you don't want to be tagged, please tell me!):

@tuquoquebrute @furiousmushroom @cheekychaos28 @72scsuze @nerdieforpedro

@toobsessedsstuff @whirlwindrider29 @inept-the-magnificent @mellymbee @that1nerd-20

@hipabbster23 @bitccchmood @bigbutchenergee @rainbowcat164 @the-strawberrythief

@johnssherlock221 @misstokyo7love @vivian-pascal @florxdexcerezo @fanficlover1414

@rarachelchel @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @jeewrites @sunnytuliptime @kulekehe

@bebsjo

[etherealising]

interlude one | parle-moi

↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairing(s): carmy x claire | fem!reader x male!oc | carmy x fem!reader | platonic!mikey x fem!reader | platonic!richie x fem!reader | platonic!claire x fem!reader |

summary: a glance into the final couple of weeks of carmy and baby's senior year.

warning(s): 18+ | miscommunication | carmy | teenage angst | teenage stupidity | mentions of prom | vague mentions of terminal illness | steamy make out session | dry humping | mild petting | neck infatuation? | pining | semi-unrequited love | idiots in fucking love | please let me know if i missed something |

wc: 13.7k

song inspo: parle-moi

please don't let any graphics hinder your imagination of fem!reader/baby, you could imagine her as a fucking smurf for all i care. any pictures used are NOT a representation of baby they just fit the chapter!!!!

also i describe hayden as atj's character in kick-ass because that's what i was watching while writing this chapter but you could imagine him as rasputin or liteally whoever you're into.

but also like atj and jaw are literally the same person just different fonts ya know? happy reading!

May 2013

Carmy watched as you manned the front of house at The Beef, you and Richie working seamlessly around each other as the both of you took turns at the cash register and running food to the customers who had decided to dine in. Carmy wouldn’t lie, he was a little miffed that Mikey had given you a job here but strictly forbade him from even thinking about working at The Beef, but it was okay because he had a plan. Carmy was going to pursue his dream of becoming a chef, not only that, he was going to become the best fucking chef he could be and prove to Michael exactly why he deserved to work alongside him at the family business.

It wasn’t necessarily fair for Carmy to be mad at you for earning yourself a job at The Beef, and he wasn’t. He knew you were only working there to save up money, he knew how badly you and your mom needed it. Things had gotten worse with your mom in the past two years. One of your aunts had come from the west coast to stay with the two of you as you finished up your senior year waiting to whisk the two of you away at the first chance she got. Carmy had met her a handful of times. She was nice he would give her that, but she always looked at him like she knew a secret he didn’t.

Leaning against the end of the counter as he waited for you to go on break, he watched as you made your way back from the dining area to the front, doing his best to capture your features. The slight sheen to your skin from running back and forth and the slight humidity that could be felt in the air. He took notice of the way your hair decorated your head, which pieces looked out of place. Carmy studied you with a curious eye, fingers drumming against the small sketchbook you had got him for his birthday. He had wanted to draw you for a while, and he tried once, but after picking out everything wrong with the drawing he decided that maybe your kind of features weren’t meant to be confined to the lines on a piece of paper.

Carmy watched as you laughed at something stupid Richie said, your laughter singing through the restaurant. Even as you turned to the window of the kitchen to share the joke with the rest of your crew, the large smile still hadn’t left your face.

You turned from the window removing the apron from around your waist as you approached Carmy, the remnants of laughter still on your face. You grabbed his hand pulling him along to the dining area where the two of you plopped down at your favorite corner table. The patrons are still there sending greetings to both of you. You nodded at Carmy’s sketchbook that now sat on the table, his hand lying flat atop it.

“Got anything new for me to look at?” You eyed the small book, always happy to look at whatever new drawing had taken over Carmy’s mind, even if they were of Claire.

Carmy followed your line of sight, a slight blush rising to his cheeks at your intrigue. He usually wouldn’t think twice about letting you parse through his artwork, your genuine interest always pushing him to keep up his hobby. “Uh, I’m not sure if you’ll want to see what’s in this sketchbook.”

Carmy’s fingers began drumming away again, the constant contact with the small book keeping him calm. You sent a teasing smile his way “Why afraid I’ll get tired of seeing your drawings of Claire?” You had meant for the quip to be a joke, although you were tired of seeing Claire’s face staring back at you through Carmy’s drawings, it wasn’t your friend's fault that she had stolen the heart of the boy you had been pining after for the better part of a year.

The frown on Carmy’s face told you that he may have taken offense to the slight joke, your teasing smile dropping as you felt the guilt creep in on you. “I don’t draw Claire that much do I?” The vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard.

You quickly shook your head wanting to appease him, “No Carm, guess I’ve just been around Mikey and Richie too much working here.” You sent him a small smile hoping to raise his spirits, “Word of advice though, some people might find it a bit weird if they knew someone was drawing them without their permission.” You leaned your head on the palm of your hand as you watched Carmy flush even more.

Carmy felt the heat of his blush rising on his neck and painting his cheeks an even deeper red, of course, you would think he was weird for randomly drawing your friend. His lack of experience and newfound fascination channeled into his drawings as he saw no other way to deal with his crush on Claire. He cleared his throat, eyes finding yours again, “Would you?” At the confusion on your face he swallowed, not wanting you to think him any weirder than he already felt, “Would you find it weird if I was drawing you?”

You watched Carmy sink into himself after asking you that question, your own heart melting a bit about the shyness Carmy exuded. “Carmen,” your hands reach out to clasp his between your own, “I would be flattered if you ever decided to draw me. Hell, maybe I’ll even commission you.” The ending joke is made to bring yourself back to reality, if Carmy was drawing you it wasn’t for the same reasons he was drawing Claire.

If it was possible for Carmy to blush even more, he was sure he would’ve looked like a tomato sitting in front of you. You always knew exactly what to say to stave his self-doubt, but recently your words had been more warming to him, something that he couldn’t explain. But he found himself hanging on to every word that left your lips a little bit more.

Before Carmy could get his response out Tina appeared by your table with two signature beef sandwiches for the two teenagers she had watched grow up. The two of you thanked her watching as she made her way back into the kitchen, not being able to spare a minute with the dinner rush starting soon.

You smiled up at Carmy before digging into your food, the warm bread and the seasoned beef caressed your tongue. You let out a sound of appreciation as you swallowed your first bite head tossing back to savor the flavors in your mouth. Carmy let out a small chuckle as he watched you, always finding your reaction to be overdramatic, he wouldn’t lie though, he was excited for the day he would earn that same reaction after you tried his food.

A content sigh escaped your lips as you wiped your mouth with the provided napkin, “I’m gonna miss this when I’m gone.” Carmy could hear the sadness in your voice, his own sense of sadness filling him as he remembered what fate held for the two of you after graduation. The two of you would be separated from each other in what felt like the first time in forever.

Carmy sat his sandwich down, slumping a little in his seat while trying his best not to bring the mood down, “You leave at the end of July right?” His question met your ears as you took in his kicked-puppy look, you remembered how well Carmy took the news when he found out. The betrayal on his face when he found out you chose to go to a college on the West Coast.

You nodded your eyes not meeting his as you tried to lessen the hurt in your heart. It's not like you wanted to be that far from Carmy but it really was out of your hands. Your mom and aunt decided it would be best to be closer to family amid your mom’s ever-declining health. “Yeah Carm, our flight leaves on the 31st.”

You took another bite out of your sandwich appetite dwindling, but not wanting to waste the food you know the crew loved making. The two of you finished your sandwiches in silence, neither of you wanting to talk about the future and more than happy just to sit in the other’s presence.

Reaching for Carmy’s plate you stacked your own on top of his before moving them onto the edge of the table, ready to take them when your break came to an end in five minutes. You sat up straighter in your seat imbuing yourself with confidence as you prepared yourself to broach the topic you weren’t sure Carmy even cared for.

“So Carm, prom is coming up, have you given it any thought?” Carmy knew you were trying to come across as nonchalant, but the gleam in your eyes told him otherwise. Hiding the small smile that graced his lips, he watched as you tried hard to act as though you didn’t care about prom. It was a bit funny to him.

“You know it's not really my scene Baby,” he watched as your shoulders slumped a bit. You had been expecting his answer so you weren’t sure why it affected you so much

You nodded your head, “Yeah, you’re right. Not sure why I brought it up.” You began playing with your fingers, you aren’t sure what you were hoping would be different this time compared to the other times you had brought it up to him. You knew Carmy wasn’t interested in you romantically, and you knew he wasn’t interested in going to prom, but you were holding out hope thinking he might pity you and join you at prom as your friend as one last hurrah before your big move.

Carmy felt bad, he didn’t mean to make you sad. He was just waiting for the right time to ask you. He knew how much prom meant to you, and had listened to you talk his ear off about going to your high school prom after your mom and his mom showed you pictures from their respective proms. He was still working up the confidence to do so though, every time he thought he was ready he would overhear the idiots in his homeroom with their own plans to ask you. Thankfully though you had rejected every advance, and what kind of friend would Carmy be if he asked you to prom at the dinghy sticky table in the back of his family’s business?

“I’ll think about it okay?” It was Carmy’s turn to reach for your hands, to assuage the sadness he could see overtaking your features. Your eyes met Carmy’s not sure if you had heard him correctly, you wouldn’t allow yourself to get too excited at the prospect that Carmy might want to attend the prom.

You sent Carmy a small smile and a nod before standing up from your seat and grabbing the two dishes still sitting on the table, “I’ll hold you to that Bear.” You headed towards the door to the kitchen disappearing from Carmy’s sight.

It was always odd for Carmy to hear you use that nickname for him. You had usually just stuck to ‘Carmen’ or ‘Carmy’ when you were feeling extra friendly. But hearing you call him ‘Bear’ always made his heart beat a little faster, the way the nickname left your lips making him feel warm on the inside. Knowing that such a special nickname had countlessly graced your tongue, a family name just for him that you had felt comfortable enough calling him always made his head fuzzy and his chest feel like it was on fire. The sound of the bell above the door snapped him out of his thoughts, he quickly gathered up his sketchbook, he didn’t know where he was headed, but hopefully, some fresh air would give him the courage he needed to finally ask you to prom.

Your shift ended an hour ago, but you always stayed later to help the crew clean up. Mikey began giving you rides home as you took on more hours, the one plus side of working for your neighbor. At that moment Tina was helping you clean the front of the house her favorite oldies CD popped into the ancient radio, the two of you had created a tradition since you started working at The Beef. Tina would shoo Richie to the back to clean her area so the two of you could catch up.

Tina had taken you under her wing when you first started working there, teaching you what she could in her spare time. Although you had no plans to work in a kitchen anytime soon, you still cherished the time spent together taking what she taught you and using them in your kitchen. Happily sharing with Tina what your mom thought about a recipe she taught you and bringing one of your mom's famous recipes for Tina to try.

Being able to connect your mom and your work mom through food always brought warmth to your heart. The women in your life all doing their best to raise you to be the best woman you could be. As you and Tina finished cleaning up, the two of you headed to the dining area where you would usually wait for Mikey as he finished up whatever he was doing in his office and Tina would sometimes keep you company.

The two of you occupied the same table that had earlier housed you and Carmy. “So did Carmy get his head out of his ass and ask you to prom?” The smile on Tina’s face showed how excited she was to hear about your progress in getting Carmy open to going to prom.

You hid your face in your hands, your big smile hiding behind it, “He told me he’d think about it, which isn’t a no but, I’m too scared to get my hopes up,” You smiled in Tina’s direction watching as she nodded the smile never leaving her face.

“Mama, why don’t you just ask him yourself?” Tina questioned searching your eyes, your smile faltered as you listened to Tina’s question, why hadn’t you just asked Carmy? It would’ve given you a straight answer, and you wouldn’t have had to wait around while he was being indecisive.

Your eyebrows pinched together as you looked at Tina in earnest, “But what if he says no?” The self-doubt creeping in, of course, you would ask him as friends, you didn’t want to freak him out but insinuating you wanted something more, even though you did.

Tina shrugged her shoulders, a small warm smile decorating her features “You can’t control his reaction Mija.” She leaned forward to clasp your hands in hers, “If you don’t ask you’ll never know.” You could always count on Tina’s solid advice to ground you.

And she was right the worst thing that could happen if you asked Carmy to the prom was his swift rejection. But the answer would always be rejection if you never asked. Tina squeezed your hands as you nodded, letting her words sink in as you calculated the best way to ask Carmy to prom.

“I see the way you look at him mama, and listen,” one of her hands shot out to raise your chin so you were looking at her directly. “It’s going to hurt if he doesn’t feel the same way, but you can’t keep living ya life waiting for him. You can be there for him as much as you want, that’s fine ma, but at the end of the day you gotta remember you’re the only person who got you.”

You could feel the tears on your waterline threatening to spill out, leave it to Tina to serve you the most heartfelt advice on a random Thursday night at a dining table at The Beef.

“I’m not saying you gotta let go of your feelings for him, just don’t lose yourself waiting for that boy to come to his senses.” With that Tina patted your hands as she stood from her seat, coming to your side of the table and planting a loving kiss on your forehead.

“You get home safe now ma, a’ight, make sure Mikey ain’t driving all stupid with you in that car.” You laughed at the jab Tina made about Mikey’s driving.

Standing up the two of you embraced each other in a hug, you were grateful to have Tina in your, and you were grateful to have met the Berzattos because without them you wouldn’t have been able to make all the wonderful connections you have now.

You waited for Tina to grab her stuff so you could walk her out. The two of you exiting The Beef you stood outside the entrance watching Tina as she made her way down the street, waiting until her petite figure was officially out of your sight before heading back inside and locking the door behind you.

Venturing to the back you stopped in the office doorway, Mikey sitting in the desk chair as Richie leaned against the desk the two of them whispering fiercely between each other. You gently knocked on the wall hoping to catch their attention, you learned the hard way that being privy to any whispered conversation these two had was never worth it.

“Uh, I’m ready when you are Mikey,” you looked between the two of them, the two giving off a more sketchy vibe than they usually did.

“You uh, didn’t hear anything you weren’t supposed to did you?” Richie’s question caused you to frown. They were definitely doing some sketchy shit that you wanted no part in.

You rolled your eyes before bending down to pick up your backpack on the floor next to the door. “You two are so fucking weird,” you crossed your arms over your chest as you looked between the two of them. Mikey finally rose from his seat and tossed you the keys that were sitting on the desk.

“Hey! That’s rude you know, I think I’m fucking great,” Richie’s response caused a tired smile to form on your lips.

“Yeah Rich, you can be cool sometimes. Goodnight Rich, get home safe.” You sent a small wave his way before leading the way to the car parked in the back of the lot, wanting nothing more than to get home, shower, and bundle up in your warm bed.

You unlocked your door before quickly sliding in and reaching over to unlock Mikey’s door. Silently rushing him along and immediately turning on the heat as Mikey settled into his seat reversing out of the lot.

“What were you and Richie even doing anyway?” You looked over in Mikey’s direction as your hands were placed in front of the vents supplying warmth to your body.

Mikey smiled at you before facing the road again your curiosity was always something he could count on, “Just keeping the business afloat. Nothing to worry over.” You nodded along, no stranger to the many problems The Beef ran into. It shocked you sometimes that it was still up and running, but you knew Mikey always found a way to keep things going.

“How’s school?” The question gained your attention, one of these talks is almost mandatory between the two of you, Mikey checking in on you and in a not-so-subtle way checking in on Carmy through you. You couldn’t pretend you knew why it was so hard for them to just talk to each other, but you guessed any effort was effort.

“Alright, I guess, just preparing for finals. Oh, guess what?” The giddiness in your voice earned a chuckle from Mikey as he nodded for you to go on. “I’m planning to ask Carmy to prom, but like as friends you know?” It was a bit ironic that every Berzatto except the one that mattered knew about your crush, but according to them, you weren’t very subtle about it.

Mikey’s laugh crumbled your resolve a bit, you weren’t sure if he was laughing at you or your idea. You flicked his shoulder sure he couldn’t feel it through his jacket, he raised his hand as a way to ward off your attack. Not that it was doing anything to hurt him.

You watched as Mikey pulled into your driveway never forcing you to cross the street on late nights. His hand reached for the ignition turning the car off as he shifted to face you in his seat.

“You know I’m proud of you right?” you nodded as you listened to Mikey’s words. “You’re gonna do big fucking things, Baby, don’t forget about us little guys alright.” You laughed a little confused about where this topic of conversation was coming from.

“I could never forget about you Brother Bear.” You teased the childhood nickname you gave Mikey pulling his lips into a smile. “I’m gonna write about you one day Mikey, gotta remember you to do that.” You watched as he just stared at you eyes roaming over your face, you reached across the console pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before moving to get out of the car.

Mikey’s hand reached out to grab your arm, “You gonna look out for Carmy even when you leave right?” You nodded at the question, feeling no need to elicit a verbal response. “Just keep an eye out for me will you, you’re good for Carmy.” You had no plans to cut Carmy off after your move, the two of you already discussed the best ways to keep in contact, the best season to catch a flight in.

“Come on now Mikey, you Berzatto’s are stuck with me for life, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” You laughed as Mikey rolled his eyes

“Get your ass in the house, Baby, I told your mom I’d stop bringing you home so late,” you nodded, picking your backpack up from by your feet on the floor. You quickly walked to your front door turning back to send Mikey a wave as he watched you get in safely.

Mikey sighed as he easily parked the car in his driveway just across the street. It was selfish but he needed you to stay in Carmy’s life in whatever way you could manage. Carmy would need you, the role you played in his life making him a better person than he already was. Mikey just hoped for your sake that Carmy put in the effort to keep you in his life, his little brother honing in on the Berzatto family habit of self-sabotage.

Mikey would speak to Carmy about it, if there was one thing he would get his little brother to understand, it was that allowing you to walk out of his life would be a colossal mistake.

Carmy was waiting for you in front of the school. Since getting your licenses the two of you had been taking turns driving the other to school, and today was his turn. He knew it would take you a good minute to make your way to the entrance since your class was located at the back of campus. It didn’t bother him though, it gave him a chance to try and calm his nerves. There was one week left until prom and he still hadn’t asked you.

He purchased the tickets a week ago. You had given him the perfect opportunity at lunch when you decided to spend the period getting help from your creative writing teacher.

Carmy just never felt like it was the right time to ask you, at least that’s what he was telling himself. In reality, he had plenty of opportunities, he just kept losing his confidence. Forcing him to constantly postpone the question he so desperately wanted answered.

For example, when he was visiting with your mom over the weekend and you were teaching him your mom’s famous peach cobbler recipe. He swore he was gonna ask you in the midst of baking, he knew you were into romantic gestures. Not that he wanted to go to prom with you romantically or anything like that. But then the two of you made a mess with the flour while trying to perfect your mom's homemade biscuits, flour getting everywhere including on the two of you.

Carmy decided as he watched you clean your face that right then was as perfect a moment as ever. The two of you were in high spirits enjoying each other's company, but then he watched as the evening light streamed through the kitchen window just perfectly. The sunlight lit up the features on your face he had somehow been overlooking for all the years he knew you. Your bright eyes and cheeky smile were solely trained on him.

And there he was standing in your mom’s kitchen, drowning in the attention you had always allotted especially for him. His smile faltered as he couldn’t help but just watch you at that moment, his breath hitched while his eyes skated over the planes of your face, the ache in his chest slowly dwindling his confidence. And Carmy decided he just couldn’t ask you that day. The timing wasn’t right. The two of you were a mess and he needed to find a bottle of Pepto Bismol asap.

So that’s how he ended up nervously waiting for you to exit school on a random Monday in May. Carmy made sure he was in the regular meeting spot as you two had dedicated it, out of the way of any other students. The two of you weren’t loners, well you weren’t, Carmy didn’t care too much for high school labels. But the two of you were fine being in each other’s presence with no need to include anyone else, and yeah sometimes you would run off with Claire or Hayden and try to invite Carmy, but Carmy didn’t need any of that. He got you and your attention every day of the week whenever he wanted, and for Carmy, that’s all he really needed.

Carmy finally spotted you making your way through the crowd of teenagers who were either waiting for their rides or just trying to prolong the day with their friends. An unconscious smile graced his features he had been waiting all day to finally just get things over with and pop the question. The two tickets held so tightly in his hands they were starting to crinkle. Letting out a deep breath, Carmy straightened up, wanting you to take his inquiry seriously, not sure his usual shyness would exhibit that he truly wanted to go to prom with you.

No longer able to wait, Carmy began walking in your direction, doing his best to avoid the bodies that didn’t care enough to pay attention to him. He made it halfway before the sight in front of him caused him to abruptly stop. Walking next to you was the tall boy he always felt himself feeling insecure around. Hayden had never shown Carmy any ill will and had even tried to include Carmy in conversation in the times he joined the two of you for lunch. But the teenager had something Carmy didn’t have; a reserve of confidence and natural charisma. The two of you had just met this year in your creative writing class and Carmy swore he would never hear the end of it.

Hayden was drinking in all your attention right now, the two of you bouncing ideas off of each other for your creative writing final. You thought Hayden was cool since your first meeting at the beginning of the year. The two of you became instant critique buddies, always asking the other to analyze a class assignment before you submitted it. At times you had thought about inviting him to hang out with you and Carmy outside of school, but you didn’t want to make Carmy uncomfortable, so the two of you remained friends inside the confines of high school.

You laughed at one of Hayden’s outlandish ideas, knowing if he turned in a paper on the topic of whatever conspiracy theory he was into at the moment they would probably withhold his diploma.

“Hey, check it out,” your eyes followed the path Hayden’s finger was pointing at, a small scowl painting your face at the scene playing out in front of you. “Looks like Carmy finally asked Claire to prom.” The words made your ears buzz, and the tickets in your back pocket felt like they were on fire now.

The two of you watched in silence as Carmy and Claire traded shy smiles with each other before he handed her one of the two tickets in his hands. When he told you he’d think about it, you weren’t aware he would think about going with someone else. The hope in your heart immediately died out as you watched the bright smile overtake Carmy’s face. You didn’t blame him, if you had the opportunity to go to prom with your crush, you obviously would have taken it too.

“You good?” The nudge to your arm broke you from your longing gaze, eyes finding Hayden’s through his dorky glasses. You nodded trying to shake the sadness off yourself, Hayden was great at reading people.

“Yeah, actually,” you took a small breath before continuing. “I know this is kind of weird, and you’re totally allowed to reject me. But would you maybe wanna go to prom with me? It doesn’t have to mean anything obviously, just two friends having a good time together.” You slipped the two tickets out of your back pocket brandishing them to Hayden. Even if you couldn’t go with Carmy you still wanted to attend prom and Hayden was a great second choice.

“Hell yeah! I’ve been waiting for you to ask me.” The lame joke caused the both of you to laugh as you shoved Hayden’s shoulder. He took one of the tickets from your hand walking backwards while still facing you. “Don’t sell yourself short, maybe I want to go to prom with you to mean something.” His loud voice catches the attention of the teenagers surrounding you. A group of underclass girls fawning over how cute they thought the scene between you two was.

You watched as Hayden disappeared to his car, a small laugh leaving your lips at Hayden’s antics, a part of you feeling giddy at the idea that someone wanted to go to prom with you as more than friends.

Carmy wasn’t sure how long he stood there staring at the interaction going on between you and Hayden, but it sure did suck the confidence right out of his insecure body. The thought of going to prom with you was just another failed idea as he was sure Hayden would ask you.

“You okay there Berzatto?” Carmy was snapped out of his trance by the presence that made their way to his side. His eyes shot to Claire’s, momentarily widening before he tried to calm his exterior. He nodded his head, giving himself a minute before even thinking of gracing Claire with an incoherent response.

“Ye-Yeah, just waiting for Baby,” his free hand raised to point in your direction as Claire smiled at him, eyes leaving him for only a moment. He dropped his hand not knowing how to continue the conversation, Claire was your friend and yeah he did have his fair share of classes with her, and she did only live down the street from the two of you. But he had never been alone with her on purpose.

The two of them stood in a stilted silence, both overcome by their shyness to say anything. Trying to ease the awkwardness Claire’s eyes landed on the tickets still tightly grasped in Carmy’s hands, finally finding an out to the silence. “I didn’t know you were into prom Carmy,” the statement reminded Carmy of what he had been planning to do in the first place.

One hand raised to run through his slightly grown-out hair, head nodding rapidly in response, “Yeah, Baby seems to be really into it.” Carmy didn’t notice Claire’s smile falter, of course, he was taking you to prom, you were the only girl that existed to him.

Carmy finally faced the girl standing next to him. The least he could do while waiting for you was hold a conversation with her. “Did you want to go?” Carmy watched Claire’s smile brighten, a confused look painting his features. Not realizing that with his overall awkward and shy personality, the girl in front of him thought this was his way of asking her to prom.

“With you?” She questioned the giddiness in her voice, easy to point out. Carmy’s eyes widened this time, this was definitely not his original plan. But he couldn’t just say no and turn her down he would’ve felt bad, plus he did have a huge crush on her, and Mikey and Richie had both told him to stop being such a pussy when it came to girls. So Carmy realized he had his answer.

“Yeah with me, i-if you want to I mean,” Carmy waited with bated breath hoping he hadn’t read the situation wrong. If Claire’s blush and wide smile were any indication he was on the right track. He raised the hand that contained the tickets between the two of them, plucking one out and offering it to Claire.

Their hands brushed as she reached for the ticket, Carmy’s smile matching hers as they fell into polite small talk about their day and their plans for after graduation.

“Don’t sell yourself short, maybe I want going to prom with you to mean something,” the sound of what they both knew to be Hayden’s voice drew their attention. They watched the fading interaction between you and Hayden, Carmy’s attention zeroing in on a laugh he heard over a hundred times.

The squeeze on his bicep removed his attention from you, eyes falling back to the girl he had just asked to prom, albeit accidentally. “They’re so cute! I can’t believe they’re going to prom together,” Claire’s excitement had somehow increased after Hayden’s obnoxious display. “Hey, maybe we can carpool,” It was wrong but Carmy couldn’t get himself to focus on the words leaving Claire’s mouth, too busy watching you watch Hayden.

“Oh hey, my mom’s here. We’ll figure it out later, see ya Carmy.” He sent a noncommittal nod in Claire’s direction, a slight wave sent to her mom who was patiently waiting in the car. Eyes immediately went back to your figure that had finally begun to make its way in his direction, the smile on your face confusing him. You didn’t like Hayden did you?

Carmy watched as you stopped in front of him before your hand reached out to shove his shoulder, “Why didn’t you tell me you were asking Claire to prom?” Carmy wasn’t sure why but your question irked him, the excitement in your voice crawling under his skin. It’s not like he had to run his whole life by you, you obviously didn’t.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were asking Hayden to prom?” The hostility in Carmy’s tone and the frown on his face confused you, “You just asked him to prom so he’ll sleep with you.” Your eyes widened at Carmy’s insinuation that the only reason anyone would go to prom with you was to fulfill their carnal desires.

You scoffed rolling your eyes at his immaturity, “You have an ugly fucking attitude, Carmen.” The shove of your shoulder into his as you stormed off to the car cooled his anger down.

Carmy had no clue what the fuck had been going on with him, with the two of you recently. But he knew he needed to cool it with these mood swings before you decided to leave him behind for good. He only had you for the rest of the summer before your constant presence in his life would disappear. He didn’t want to give you a reason to cease all contact after your move. Carmy followed after you knowing it would be a silent car ride home.

Prom Night | Saturday

The week leading up to prom had been the most awkward week between you and Carmy since the dawn of your friendship. It's not like you were giving him the cold shoulder, but you sure weren’t as nice and friendly as you usually were with him. You only spoke to him out of necessity that week, your friendship with him on rocky ground after the accusation he threw your way.

It had gotten so bad that you had even begun inviting Claire and Hayden to your’s and Carmy’s self-proclaimed lunch table. You had told Carmy it was under the guise of figuring out the plans for prom night, but you just didn’t want to sit alone with Carmy as he acted like everything was fine between the two of you. And Carmy knew two, and if he was brave enough he would’ve admitted that it hurt to see you so upset with him to the point that you were no longer comfortable in just his presence.

He had even broached the topic to Sugar, hoping she would be able to give him advice since she was a teenage girl at one point, and probably understood your thought process better than he did. He regretted the decision immediately when she explained to him that because of the situation, he should be more worried about the way his words hurt you, rather than his feelings of you distancing yourself from him. She had gone on a long tangent about how you had every right to want space from him, the two of you were longtime best friends, and having someone you trust with your whole life deduce you to just your body would make anyone question the friendship. Carmy learned the hard way that Sugar wasn’t going to tell him what he wanted to hear just to make him feel better.

It was a tough week for Carmen Berzatto and it was nobody's fault but his own. Sitting on his bed he stared at the suit he would be donning tonight, the excitement he once held for prom, slowly dwindling with every smile you saved for Hayden that week. Every time you asked for Hayden’s advice before Carmy’s he felt his resolve cracking, for a constant time in his life your friendship with him was the only thing that truly belonged to him.

He wasn’t used to having to share your attention with anyone outside of his and your family. He wasn’t prepared for the smile he thought was reserved just for him, to so easily graced your lips when speaking with Hayden

You and Claire were getting ready together at your house, you had invited the girl to join you after she explained her mom would be out of town for a business meeting. The friendship between the two of you was still rather new, you wouldn’t go as far as to call her your best friend, but she was your first close girlfriend and you thought that counted for something.

Claire was easy to be friends with. She was a sweet girl with a bright personality and the two of you wondered how you had lived on the same street all this time and never became friends before senior year. Claire was easy to be friends with; that is until Carmy decided he liked her. After that day it was no longer just you and Carmy, it was you, Carmy, and Claire. And Claire was never even actually physically there, she was just a topic of conversation that Carmy couldn’t go a day without somehow bringing up.

You didn’t blame Claire though, how could you? And just as naturally you watched as your new friend fell for your oldest one. It hurt in the beginning to realize Carmy would never speak of you the way he spoke of Claire, but as time went on you got over it, the mantra ‘if Carmy’s happy, I’m happy’ slowly getting you through senior year. But it was agonizing when Claire confessed to you she had fallen for your shy doe-eyed shadow.

Luckily for you though the two of them were too shy to ever do anything about it. And maybe you were a shit friend for not telling Carmy that he did have a chance with his dream girl, but you would’ve been an even worse friend for revealing Claire’s secret behind her back. It was a lose-lose situation. So now you were relegated to being the middleman, lending both of your friends an ear to talk about their infatuations with each other.

And that’s exactly what you were doing right now as you listened to Claire drone on about how sweet Carmy was. And how cute he looked when he asked her to prom, and if you thought he would look good in his suit tonight; which yes, you did but Claire didn’t need to know that. You were almost starting to regret inviting her over, but you had to remind yourself it wasn’t her fault that you were too scared to admit your feelings to Carmy, or that you should’ve just asked Carmy to prom yourself with no hesitation.

“Which color?” Claire’s voice broke you from your pity party, the two of you sitting on the floor in front of your mirror, your respective makeup set out in front of you. You looked at the two eyeshadow palettes Claire was pointing at, quickly pointing at the one color palette that would work best with her blue-green eyes.

“I think these colors will make your eyes pop,” the small smile on your lips encouraging Claire to take your advice. “Can I be honest with you?” You were unsure that you wanted to have this conversation with Claire, but you’d always have Carmy’s best interest at heart.

Claire shifted to face you, your serious tone drawing her undivided attention. “Just be careful with Carmy, okay?” Your eyes flickered between hers to make sure she understood the gravity of what you were saying. “Not in a bad way or anything, it's just…he really likes you. And he’s not that experienced in the romance department, so just don’t expect too much of him,” you paused, eyes going down to watch as your fingers picked at the hem of your robe.

“He’s shy, ya know, and he’s a little self-conscious even though he does not need to be because he’s so cool once you get to know him. But if he seems a little clueless or doesn’t pick up on your queues, just don’t hold it against him okay? I know he’s going to try not to mess things up with you Claire.”

Your eyes found Claire’s face again, a small endearing smile on her lips, “You care about him a lot.” You laughed not meaning for it to sound as sarcastic as it came across, you did a lot more than care about Carmy. “I’m glad Carmy has a friend like you in his life,” Claire’s hand patted your knee, the truth in her words causing your heart to sink a little in your chest.

“Enough about me and Carmy, I didn’t know you were into Hayden!” The two of you giggled about the fact you were talking about boys and getting ready for prom, neither of you thought you’d be in this situation right now.

“I’m not. We’re just going as friends,” you said as the two of you began to paint your faces. “Well make sure he knows that.” You put down the lip liner you were examining, eyes flashing to Claire as she shot you a goofy smile.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You watched as Claire rolled her eyes at your obliviousness, you threw a makeup brush at her that she easily swatted away. “I’m just saying” the other girl’s hands raised in defense, “Hayden has like the biggest crush on you, he’s just too nonchalant to say anything.”

“Really?” The surprise in your voice stole a laugh from Claire. “Of course! Look, you didn’t hear this from me but he had plans to ask you to prom. You just beat him to the punch.”

You watched Claire for a minute as she resumed doing her makeup. Your own eyes find your figure in the mirror, a shy smile curving your lips. Maybe your head had been so far up Carmy’s ass you were too blind to see that there was another great guy out there ready to make you happy.

You thought of the advice Tina had given you a few weeks back, you would always care for Carmy. But if he was getting his happy ending tonight, it was only fair that you tried as well. As you and Claire sat there chit-chatting and getting ready, you thought about how different your life would be if you set your feelings for Carmy aside, and tonight was the best time to figure it out.

You and Claire made your way across the street to the Berzatto household where everyone was waiting for the two of you. Your mom and aunt left 30 minutes ago, Donna having invited them over for dinner while you all attended prom. You saw Hayden’s car parked in front of their house and couldn’t help but feel excited at the idea of spending such a fun night with him, you had only ever seen him as a friend but maybe tonight could change things.

You were pretty sure Donna was snooping through the windows excitedly waiting for the two of you to arrive because the moment your foot hit the sidewalk Donna threw the door open with a loud voice surprising the two of you.

“Oh my goodness! Look at you girls, you look beautiful!” Donna exclaimed as she made her way towards the two of you pulling Claire into a hug before throwing her arms around you, careful to mind the bulky Polaroid camera in her hand.

Removing yourself from the hug you peered behind her to see everyone else filing out of the house. Your aunt helped your mom as she talked Nat’s ear off about something you couldn’t hear. Mikey and Richie do their best to interrogate a calm Hayden, and Carmy awkwardly follows behind at the back of the pack, his suit hugging him well.

You were quickly pulled away from your assessment of Carmy as Nat made her way to you with a huge grin on her face. “Baby! Oh my goodness!” Her words became muffled as she pulled you into a hug. “You look so gorgeous, Carmy is such a tool. Well, no offense to Claire.” You let out a small laugh as you parted from Natalie, the two of you joining everyone else so the picture-taking could begin.

Before joining Claire and Carmy you stopped by Mikey and Richie to pick up your date, hoping they hadn’t gone overboard with the ‘intimidating older brother’ act. Squeezing in between the two older men you looped your arm around their torso pulling them into a double-side hug.

“Are tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb giving you a hard time Hayden?” The words leave behind a mock pout on your lips. You gave Hayden a bright smile, easily taking his suited figure in, he had forgone his round dorky glasses. But his signature unruly dark curls were in their usual mess atop of his head, and you would admit you appreciated it.

You watched as the once apprehensive look on his face turned into a bright grin at your words, a pretty blush painting his angular cheeks. “Wow, you look uh-”

“She looks what buddy?” Mikey’s tone left no room for questions, his arms moving to cross against his chest widening his stance to appear more intimidating.

“You look pretty.” You weren’t even given a second to respond as Mikey started in again.

“I look fucking pretty to you? Richie, this boy just call me pretty?” Mikey’s eyes never left Hayden’s even as his question was directed at Richie.

You watched as Richie copied Mikey’s stance, your arms falling from their movements. “Yeah Mikey, I think he fucking did.”

“Richie’s a looker too, you gonna call him pretty?” You watched as Hayden fumbled with his words, eyes searching yours for any help.

“Yeah Curly Sue, I wanna be fucking pretty too.” You weren’t sure how the conversation had gotten so out of control but luckily for you, your mom was there to save the day. Pulling Hayden’s attention to a conversation so he could escape your two personal bodyguards.

“You two stop giving that poor boy a hard time.” Mikey and Richie having no defense against your mom, let him join her as Donna came up to the three of you for a picture.

You resumed your initial position with them, arms finding their way back around their torsos. The two of them leaned down to press a kiss against both of your cheeks, a cheesy smile taking over your features as the three of you posed for Donna’s camera.

“Okay Baby, grab your cute little date and take some photos,” Donna motioned you over to where Nat was finishing up the couple photos of Carmy and Claire, now waiting for you and Hayden.

You maneuvered yourself from Mikey and Richie’s grip standing in front of them, the two of them looking at you with smirks decorating their faces. Although you found their antics to be stupid, you were glad to have people in your life who cared enough about you to try and scare your dates away.

“This kid not weird or some shit is he Baby?” Mikey scowled at you, arms finding their way across his chest. You shook your head, you thought you knew enough about Hayden to vouch for him. “No, he’s just a friend. It was a last-minute decision.” The two men stared at the boy who was waiting for you to take pictures with him, the pretty flower corsage in a box in his hands.

Mikey nodded in his direction signaling for you to go and join him, “You guys stop by The Beef after. Don’t want you and Carmy getting into any stupid shit.” You nodded before making your way to Hayden’s side. His smile caused one to grace your lips as well.

“Everybody wants pictures of us but uh, I need to give you this first.” You smiled as he shyly showed you the corsage, you watched as he removed it from its box. You held out your hand as he carefully slipped it on your wrist, surprised to see how perfectly the colors chosen complimented your skin tone.

You couldn’t help but share a small smile with him when the two of you caught each other’s eyes again. “Thank you, Hayden, it's beautiful.” The click of a camera drew your attention, eyes finding Nat’s as she looked at the image on her digital camera.

“Awe Baby! The two of you are so cute, okay give me a few poses.” Carmy couldn’t help but watch as Sugar gushed over you and Hayden, his mom keeping Claire’s attention as they discussed whatever it was they were so enraptured in.

He watched as the two of you took photos as if you were a couple and not just two friends going to prom. The two of you stood in the standard prom pose looking like the perfect match, Hayden standing behind you with his hands wrapped around your waist, the two of you smiling happily at the camera. The position changed slightly as Hayden rested his chin on your shoulder for one shot, slightly turning his head for the next shot so his lips caressed your cheek. From Carmy’s vantage point, you didn’t seem to mind.

Carmy was pulled into Mikey’s side as his older brother wrapped his arm around his shoulder. The two of them watch you and your date in silence for a moment. “Baby’s growing up isn’t she?” The question was not something Carmy was expecting from Mikey.

“Do me a favor and look out for her Carmy alright?” Carmy nodded, no one ever needed to ask that of him. “Better start treating her right before this becomes your feature.” Mikey looked down at Carmy hoping to drill the words into his younger brother, sending one more squeeze to his shoulder and an encouraging smile his way before leaving to join Richie in conversation with your mom and aunt.

Sugar caught Carmy’s eye, a melancholy smile on her lips, “Carmy come, let me get a picture of you and Baby together!” He looked to his mom and Claire, the two of them giving him nods of encouragement. He gently took the Polaroid camera from his mom's hand knowing you’d like at least one Polaroid of the two of you before heading in your direction.

He approached you and Hayden as the two of you were having a quiet conversation, “So if I potentially called you baby non platonically how would you feel about that?” Carmy wanted to gag and was relieved as he watched you roll your eyes at the cheesy pickup line.

“Eww, actually please don’t,” Carmy stood there in silence watching how chummy the two of you were and feeling awkward for just listening.

“You’re right, my girl has a better ring to it.” Carmy’s eyes widened he had no idea where the fuck this kid's confidence was coming from but it sure was starting to piss him off. He watched your mouth hang open partially at a loss for words apparently just as appalled as Carmy.

The hand reaching up to cup your chin almost sent Carmy into a full spiral, “Close your mouth, can’t have my girl swallowing flies.” Camry was about to blow his shit! Who the fuck did this model-looking motherfucker think he was?

“Hey, pretty boy! None of that slick shit in my yard!” Carmy had never been more thankful for Mikey’s obnoxious personality, watching as you and Hayden laughed together looking thick as thieves.

He quickly took his opportunity to squeeze his way into the space Hayden had once taken up. Carmy could feel the tension as he stood next to you, he quickly handed the Polaroid off to Sugar so she could take the picture before making his way back to your side.

Neither of you spoke a word as you got into position standing in a side hug so the awkward tension between the two of you wouldn’t be as noticeable in the final photo. As you fixed yourself to make sure you were presentable, Carmy found himself enraptured with you carefully sliding his arm around your waist.

The way you had chosen to style your hair was something he wasn’t accustomed to. The new style allows the angelic planes of your face to be showcased, the apples of your cheeks and your cheekbones catching his eye. The pretty sparkly stuff on your eyelids catching the dimming sunlight he was almost tempted to touch it. He liked the earrings you had chosen and the way the pearls sat so prettily around your neck he wanted to trace each one.

The square neckline of your dress showcased your perfectly sculpted collarbones. Carmy was so lost in his study of you he hadn’t thought twice about running his thumb across the one closest to him. The touch tickled you enough that your body was now slightly turned into his. Carmy cleared his throat, “Uh…um there was a bug.” He watched as you nodded along with his lame excuse.

Your hand came up to smooth out his pocket square that sat atop his heart. Carmy caught your eye before you could face the camera head-on, he gave your waist a slight squeeze to give himself a boost of confidence. Carmy watched as you stared up at him questionably the two of you just staring at each other for a moment.

Carmy’s eyes darted over your face, taking in your features before losing himself to the shape of your lips for a moment. “I think you look beautiful tonight Baby.” The words left Carmy’s lips with no sense of apprehension, no shyness. He was sure of himself; sure of his statement.

You had leaned into him a little bit more, your eyes rapidly blinking as your brain realized what he said. Carmy watched as a small shy smile graced your lips, his own soon following as he realized just how important it was to keep that pretty smile in his life.

Unbeknownst to the two of you Sugar had watched the whole moment play out, quickly raising the Polaroid to capture the intimate moment between the two of you. A moment she was hoping would finally lead to more between the two of you.

“Thank you Carmy,” Carmy watched as you leaned in slightly before stopping yourself and quickly readjusting so you were facing Sugar head-on. Carmy wasn’t sure what had changed between the two of you in these last couple of weeks but as Carmy forced himself to look away from you, he found himself thankful for whatever ushered in that change.

Carmen Berzatto knew at that moment, he would want for no one else the way he did you. And he would spend every day for the rest of his life proving that he was enough for you.

You and Hayden were leaning against his car as the two of you watched Carmy walk Claire down the street to her own house. Hayden had volunteered to drive you all to prom, and when your fun was done there happily drove you all to The Beef, excited to try the sandwiches you couldn’t stop raving about.

And now the night had come to an end, the four of you all ending back up at your starting destination. You thought the media embellished high school prom a bit, but you hadn’t regretted your decision to go and were happy to have spent such a memorable night with people whose company you enjoyed.

Hayden’s arm was brushing against yours, his suit jacket almost swallowing you up. You were grateful for the jacket, the night growing colder as time went on. The two of you were calmly standing in each other’s presence, the silence not bothering either of you. Tonight with Hayden was fun, you enjoyed how goofy he was. Always doing what he could to make you smile and laugh, you were scared things might have been awkward due to the romantic undertone of the event.

“I had a really good time tonight Hayden, thank you for being my date.” You couldn’t help the shy smile on your lips, you were sure your cheeks would be sore from smiling the whole night away.

Hayden sent you a bright smile of his own head nodding along, “Me too, I’m glad you decided to ask me.” The two of you stood there for a moment just smiling at each other.

In the movies, this was usually the moment a kiss would happen. But you weren’t sure if you wanted Hayden to kiss you, you enjoyed his company and you thought he was a great guy but you didn’t feel anything romantic for him yet and didn’t want a single kiss to lead him on.

You leaned up slightly, your lips caressing his cheek as a form of thanks. “Maybe…we could hang out some other time?” If you were really going to put your happiness first it would be necessary to put yourself out there.

“I’ve got you till the end of July don’t I?” Your eyes find Hayden’s cheeky smile as his hand raised your chin. You nodded eyes searching his face, wondering what these next two months might hold for the two of you.

His thumb began to rub back and forth on your chin, your breath hitching as you watched him lean down. Mind going blank, panic filling you as you tried to figure out if this was something you wanted. You stood still, nerves racing through your body as you were about to have your first kiss.

You watched as Hayden’s eyes flicked to the side before he reluctantly stepped back, thumb brushing your chin one final time before his hand returned to its side. You followed his line of sight to see Carmy approaching, standing a little distance away to wait for you.

Turning back to Hayden you sent him one last smile, the boy pulled you into a hug engulfing you with a slight kiss pressed to the top of your head before the two of you moved apart. You quickly slipped off his jacket before handing it to him, moving back so he could get in his car. You watched as he sent Carmy a small nod in goodbye before his car disappeared down your street.

Letting out a small sigh you turned to where Carmy was waiting for you a shy smile on his face. You smiled back as you approached him the two of you walking up the sidewalk to his front door, you knew your mom and aunt would still be here at this time.

The two of you entered the house greeting the four women that were sitting in the living room having their small party. Questions were thrown at both of you about your time and making sure your dates made it home safe all the usual questions to be expected after prom. You listened as your mom told you that you would be leaving soon. Knowing that when it came to your mom soon could mean in the next five minutes or the next two hours.

Your eyes found Carmy’s as you let out a small yawn, his eyebrows raising in question before nodding towards his room. You made your way to follow him up the stairs too tired to contribute to the conversation happening in the living room.

Entering Carmy’s room you made your way to the foot of his bed to sit down, quickly removing your heels a sense of relief filling you. Dropping your heels you watched as Carmy stood by his door looking as though his mind was racing. You smiled at him patting the spot next to you, a sort of peace offering.

“How was your night, Carmy?” You watched as he made his way to sit next to you, head falling to rest on his shoulder as you awaited his response.

“It was fun, yeah, Claire was really nice.” You watched as he blushed, you might have felt a little sad any other night but right now you were too exhausted to care.

“Why didn’t you kiss Hayden?” The question hit you like a shot of espresso. You raised your head from Carmy’s shoulder trying to find his eyes as he kept his head focused on his clasped hands. “I don’t know, I don’t think it felt right.” You genuinely had no good explanation for Carmy, you didn’t even have one for yourself.

“Did you kiss Claire?” Your question came off a little more hostile than you had intended. Carmy sat up, eyes finally meeting yours as he shook his head. You felt guilty at the relief that flooded through you.

“No, it didn't feel right.” You let out a small laugh at the recycled explanation, a similar one leaving Carmy’s lips as he didn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Gosh we’re such losers,” you giggled, bumping your shoulder with Carmy’s. “I thought for sure you would’ve taken your chance to kiss Claire tonight.” You wiggled your eyebrows in a teasing manner, the ice that had been ruining your friendship this past week seemingly forgotten.

Carmy gulped as he continued to study you. “Maybe she wasn’t the girl I wanted to kiss tonight,” Carmy’s words caused your joking mood to quickly sober up, the smile disappearing from your face completely as you realized just how intently he was staring at you.

“Carmy,” your voice trailed off, not sure what the boy in front of you was getting at. You stood up needing a bit of space to understand the underlying message in Carmy’s words. “Carmy, what are you talking about?”

He followed your movements, the two of you both standing up now, faces inches apart. You couldn’t help but follow Carmy’s tongue as it quickly traced his lips, your own coming out to wet yours. The room was silent as you waited for Carmy to say something, anything. Your heart began to beat faster as the 10 words Carmy spouted in your direction gave you a sense of hope.

Your breath hitched as you watched Carmy’s hand raise, his eyes falling to your neck. You felt his fingers delicately trace the path of borrowed pearls, each touch leaving behind a whisper of something you couldn’t place. You allowed him to continue, too nervous to say anything at that moment.

His hand began to trace its way up the side of your neck, soft touch making your knees weak. He looked to be in a trance lost in the idea of you. A gasp escaped your lips as his hand gripped the side of your neck, fingers gently tugging the hair at the nape of your neck.

Carmy couldn’t explain it, but this, you standing so beautifully in his room right now, lips parted slightly as you waited for him to make the final move felt right. It felt so right it didn’t matter who either of you went to prom with, it didn’t matter that this would be the first kiss for both of you. What mattered was that it was you here with him; you who had always been with him, he would’ve given everything to be deserving of you.

The small nod of your head was the last sign Carmy needed before he surged forward capturing your lips in a harsh kiss. The two of you were so inexperienced your teeth clashed together. The roughness brought the both of you back down to earth, you couldn’t help but laugh at how awkward that first kiss was. You didn’t even think it could even be considered a kiss, more so a smack of lips against each other.

You watched the shy blush rise on Carmy’s cheeks, you could tell he was feeling self-conscious about the whole situation. Your hand raised to gently caress the hand that was still placed on the side of your neck.

Eyes locked you sent him a warm smile leaning in slightly a small whispered “c’mere” breathed between the two of you as you gently pressed your lips into his. Your eyes closed as you felt Carmy relax into the embrace, a sigh leaving his lips as he tugged you closer by the hand wrapped around your neck.

The two of you pulled apart eyes fluttering open as you drank in each other. Neither of you say anything for a moment, the room is filled with the sounds of your soft breathing. You couldn’t believe this was finally happening, all these months of unrequited feelings and secret pining, and here you were kissing Carmen Berzatto in his bedroom.

You watched as Carmy let out a shy laugh, thumb caressing the space behind your ear. Your smile matched his, the two of you watching the other with goofy smiles playing on your lips.

“Can I-,”

“Yes.”

Carmy gave you no chance to finish your sentence before he eagerly agreed and surged back in to kiss you. His lips felt like heaven against your own, you had wondered what this moment would feel like if it ever happened. If Carmy’s lips felt as soft as they looked, what would their natural taste be like?

The kiss continued as Carmy’s tongue poked out to shyly glide across your lips, you smiled into the kiss before parting your own. Easily inviting him in, the two of you languidly moved in sync, no battle to be fought as the two of you enjoyed the caress of each other’s mouths.

You couldn’t help but moan into Carmen’s mouth a hunger you didn’t know you had finally being satisfied. The small tug on your hair caused your mouth to open wider, the kiss becoming sloppy as the two of you gave in to your desires. You felt Carmy’s hand delicately trace your neck, his infatuation constantly leading him back to it.

The bite on your lip caused a harsh gasp to leave your lips, Carmy quickly pulling away at the noise. He looked at you with wide fearful eyes scared that he hurt you, ruining a good moment too soon.

“I - I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to.” Seeing Carmy so worried and vulnerable at the moment sent a thrill of warmth through your body. Your confidence grew as his faded, you took a small step into his space backing him up into the foot of the bed which caused him to resume his sitting position.

You could get used to looking down at Carmy.

You raised the hem of your dress so you could maneuver yourself into his lap, arms going to wrap around his neck. Carmy watched you like a deer in headlights, this new sense of confidence making you feel brave. As Carmy sat there like a statue you gently removed your hands from around his neck to guide his to your waist.

His hands squeezed your hips as you quickly adjusted yourself in his lap, Carmy’s eyes following the hem of your dress as it moved up more exposing your thighs. “Won’t you kiss me again Carmy?” The small whisper bounced off of Carmy’s lips due to your proximity, you watched as he rapidly nodded his head, hands squeezing your hips for dear life. You gave him a small smile before the both of you surged forward eager to be connected again.

As the kiss between you deepened you began unconsciously rolling your hips into Carmy’s the feel of his lips searing into yours making you want more. You listened as a strangled noise left Carmy’s lips before he pulled away again, you quickly stopped your ministrations.

“Is this okay, do you want me to stop?” The question caused Carmy’s head to rest against your rapidly rising and falling chest.

“No-no I-I just need a minute.” You were beginning to feel guilty, maybe you had come on too strong and Carmy was just confused about his feelings. You began moving to get off of his lap not wanting him to be any more uncomfortable than he probably was.

You stopped as a blissful sigh escaped Carmy’s lips, his eyes finally moving to meet yours. You sat there silently as the grip on your hips tightened a sigh parting your lips as Carmy bucked up into you while he guided you back and forth. The direct eye contact somehow increased the sensation between the two of you.

“I-I like it when you move like that.” You nodded along to Carmy’s words, continuing the movements yourself as Carmy’s lips found your neck trailing open-mouth kisses on any bare piece of skin he could. One hand quickly reached up, sliding the thin strap of your dress down, so he could finally appreciate your collarbones in the way they deserved.

In all honesty, neither of you had any clue what the hell you were doing, but whatever it was, it was working. No matter how messy the touches were, or how sloppily you were kissing each other every movement felt right.

Carmy was lavishing your chest and neck in any way that he could, kisses trailing over each collarbone. An impromptu bite in the space where your neck and shoulder met caused your breath to hitch. Your hips created a rhythm against his as the two of you lost yourself to the bliss.

A loud knock at the door interrupted the two of you. Carmy quickly removed his lips from your neck, doing his best to shield your body in case someone walked in. Neither of you knew how long it had been, too caught up in losing yourself to each other, too caught up to realize how far things had almost gone.

The knock sounded again as your aunt said your name, “We’re heading out, meet us downstairs.” Footsteps leading away from the door calmed the nerves both you and Carmy had been feeling, eyes peeling away from the door to match with each other.

No one said a word as the two of you stared at each other, you taking in Carmy’s flushed appearance. As he admired your disheveled figure above him, the confidence quickly left your body as you shuffled to get off of his lap.

The hand on your hip stopped you as you eyed him curiously, he slowly reached up to fix the straps that he had slid off of your shoulders, the slow shy touches caused your head to spin. He helped you stand up before adjusting the hem of your dress. You quickly glanced away as he tried to subtly adjust himself.

The shout of your name from downstairs forced you to rush to his bathroom mirror to fix any obvious differences in your appearance. By the time you came back, Carmy was holding one of his knit crew necks out for you to slip on.

His hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck, “Uhh, it's cold outside.” You smiled gratefully before slipping the crew neck on, quickly scooping up your heels as you made your way to the door. You turned around facing Carmy one last time with a wide smile on your face, you leaned in prepared to end the night with a sweet kiss.

Carmy leaned in pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead, the two of you scoring the intimate moment. Carmy couldn’t help but smile as he watched you leave wearing his knit crew neck, part of him hoping it smelled of your scent upon its return.

Carmy hadn’t expected the night to take the turn it did, but he was thanking his lucky stars that you went along, no questions asked. Neither of you knew what this meant for the future of your friendship, or if this would blossom into something more. But the two of you were both lost in the bliss of your actions to think too long on it for the rest of the night.

Sunday Evening

You hadn’t seen much of Carmy over the rest of the weekend, instead spending the free time with your mom and aunt. You also weren’t quite sure how to approach him, and the fact that he hadn’t approached you either signified you were both at a standstill, neither of you sure how to broach the topic.

It was Sunday evening and you were on your way to The Beef picking up an extra shift after Mikey called to ask if you could come in. Richie had to leave early for whatever the hell he did in his spare time.

As you parked in the back lot, you were surprised to see Carmy sneaking through the back door. Your heart began to thud a little faster, it was stupid, but you hadn’t thought you’d be seeing him so soon. You sat there for a moment calming your nerves, you were sure the conversation wouldn’t be brought up while you were working, but maybe Carmy came here looking for you specifically.

You got out of your car, locking it behind you before entering the establishment. Quickly punching your time card before grabbing one of the spare aprons and heading to check in with Mikey.

The dinner rush would be starting soon and since Richie was gone you’d have to balance working the cashier and running food to the diners. You walked around, head popping into the office to let Mikey know you were there.

The two of you crashed into each other as he was making his way to the kitchen, arms shooting out to steady you so you didn’t fall.

“Thanks for coming Baby, but uh if you wanna go home I won’t stop you.” You watched Mikey awkwardly scratch the back of his head, eyes darting around the kitchen as he watched the controlled chaos ensue. Surprise etching your features, not used to Mikey being the awkward Berzatto in your life.

“No, I don’t mind kind of needed to get out of the house anyways,” you smiled at home before heading to the front to take care of the line that was beginning to form.

Most of the orders were for takeout so you hadn’t been rushing back and forth too much. But the Johnsons, an old couple who ate dinner here every Sunday, was your first dine-in order, the two greeting you before heading back to their favorite table.

You turned to the window waiting for the order you had already given, watching as Tina made her way to you apprehensively.

“I can run this for you Mama if you want me to.” You shook your head sending her a smile before taking the two red baskets from her hand and making your way to the dining area, eyes instantly spotting the older couple.

“Two famous Italian beef sandwiches for my favorite regulars,” you smiled down at the couple setting a tray in front of each one respectively.

“Say, honey, isn’t that your little friend over there?” You watched as the woman subtly pointed at another table, you and her partner both taking in the scene in front of you.

You felt a wide smile spreading over your face as you took in Carmy’s figure, the shyness exuding off of him. His lips brandishing a small smile, it took the laughter of his table mate to slap the rose-colored glasses off your face.

So caught up in your infatuation with the boy you’d been crushing on and finally got to kiss the other night, you hardly noticed Claire.

The two women sitting at the table in front of you sharing a knowing look, guilt seeping through as they alerted you to something you’d rather be ignorant to.

“I’m so sorry honey, I didn’t mean to upset you. Mabel been telling me I oughta learn when to shut my big mouth. If I ain’t listen 20 years ago I sure wasn’t gone figure it out by now.” You let out a sad pathetic laugh at Ms. Sadie’s explanation doing your best to compartmentalize your feelings.

“Shame though Baby, that boys missing out on something good. You looked at that boy like he parted the heavens and earth. My Mabel used to look at me like that, you know, the only thing she looks at like that now is cake and these damn beef sandwiches.” Ms. Sadie’s laugh unconsciously draws one of your own, finally taking your attention from Carmy and Claire.

“Oh hush up now Sadie and let the girl get back to work,” another watery laugh escaped your lips. “Talking this sweet girl's ear off like she wants to listen to you on top of watching the boy she loves on a date.”

Your head shot to Ms. Mabel’s slightly taken aback by her word choice, she settled you with a look. “Don’t go giving me that look now. You may be foolin' that boy and yourself but you ain’t foolin' anyone with eyes baby.” You let her reach out to gently pat your hand, the two women in front of you made it hard to keep your calm facade up.

“You gone on and head home Baby, and if Michael has a problem with it you let him know Ms. Mabel and Ms. Sadie said it was okay.” You let out a real laugh, the sound caught the one boy’s attention you didn’t care for right now.

“And tell your momma to stop by if she’s ever feeling up for it,” you sent the couple a small smile nodding your head. “Yes ma’am, you two enjoy the rest of your night.” With that, you began your journey out of the dining room.

You stopped as you heard Claire call out your name, turning inside the doorway as she sent you a wave, returning a small one as you purposefully avoided giving Carmy any attention.

You made your way into the kitchen no one needed to ask what was wrong as they took in your somber mood. You silently slid into the walk-in, maybe it was unsanitary but you didn’t think you could face anyone as you finally let the first sob wrack your body.

The fact that you knew this incident wouldn’t change your friendship with him irritated you to no end. But you cared for him so much that you just couldn’t force yourself to quit him. Maybe this move was what you needed, the time spent apart would allow you to discover who you were outside of Carmen Berzatto. You would do your best to allow the friendship between the two of you to keep flourishing, but whatever Carmy decided was best for him, you’d just have to live with it.

You hadn’t realized how long you were standing in the walk-in until Mikey entered. Body engulfing yours in a hug as his warmth radiated through you. The older Berzatto allowed you to stain his shirt in tears, neither of you saying a word as the sound of your sorrow painted the walk-in.

The youngest Berzatto’s hand stilled on the door handle as he listened to your faint cries. His own heart broke as he realized that he hurt you again. Head hitting against the exterior of the door, he didn’t deserve you, didn’t know if he ever would. Carmy forced himself to listen to your faint sobs wanting to console you at this moment but not knowing where the two of you stood.

Two friends stood on opposite sides of a steel door, hearts breaking in unison as it felt like everything was fighting against what they both wanted. July would come and they would part ways, promises whispered to stay in contact and remain friends, neither soul knowing what the years apart would have in store for them.

a/n: i apologize if anything in this chapter doesn't make sense or is wonky, i've been editing for 3 days straight and i feel like i can't read english anymore. hope you enjoyed! i also have a whole playlist if anyone is interested!

taglist: @hawkins-2000 @elliesbabygirl @allbark-no-bite @anakinswh0re3005 @rexorangecouny @thecraziestcrayon @fruitcupsworld @nishinoyahhh @lilylovelyxo @ridingthehotmessexpress @noas-ark @jadeittic @hellokittyever @luvr-bunnyy @sxgees @fandomhopped @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @kravitzwhore @chanluuvr @readingwiththereids @chims-kookies @ladygrey03 @ferida-kahlo @wanderlustnightwanderer @how2besalty @armydrcamers @jointherebellion215 @jackierose902109 @blkbxrbie-esther @ajordan2020 @head-slut-in-charge @magnet-girl @thebookwormlife @sevikasblackgf @writers-hes @senassn

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[mystsee]

DRIFTED ✦ SIMON GHOST RILEY

PART 1 ✦ NEXT

✦ about: you and simon were lovers, but simon´s duty drifted apart your relationship. 2 years later simon comes back after a long mission and reunites with his friends again, what he didn´t expect was seeing you again.

✦ content: afab reader, anxiety, blood mentions, graphic descriptions of violence, stalker ex, protective simon, pining, reunited love, civilian life, no mask, panick attack, eventual smut, psycho, no mentions of y/n

✦ a.n: an idea of the outfit i had in mind :]

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

STANDING before your mirror, cold winter air strokes your hair, you keep trying your best to conceal your puffy eyes with all the possible makeup you have. you couldn’t keep your thoughts in control, spiraling to the worst case scenario.

ever since you broke up with the crazy man, paranoia is all over you, triple checking your locks, telling your best friend where you’re going, until today.

-

lily bursts inside your flat “what the actual fuck is wrong with him?” you thought the same, not believing what you heard on the call “i don’t know if i should call the police, will they believe me? i have no actual proof of him calling me, the number was blocked” you said frowning, surprised how the situation escalated so quickly.

when you broke up with him it was crazy to say the least, he was becoming this crazy jealous boyfriend every time you travelled because of work. working for the government as a translator caused you to travel a lot. but every time you came back, he started making arguments out of nowhere, making you confused as into why he was so mad everytime you came back, slowly realizing he didn’t trust you.

he was following you everywhere on his phone, always texting you, practically exploding with anger if you didn’t answer in less than 5 minutes. god forbid if you were at a meeting with your phone on silence, hell would come when you came back to your flat.

when the breakup came, he started throwing all these false accusations of you, cheater, you don’t care about me, blah blah blah and threats, it took you a call to the police to get the bastard out of your flat. but that didn’t calm your nerves. his words on the phone call today resonating on your head:

“don’t think i forgot about you, ill get you back again” his sick voice making you feel ill, but you won’t let a man control you.

-

you agreed coming to the pub because if he dares to come close to you and do something, you would be in public, and there would be proof. what you never expected was seeing him again.

as soon as you walked inside, the cozy ambient put you at ease, it was a small pub, lightly decorated of christmas. it was saturday, so of course it would be full today. you saw lily approaching you, with a big mischevious smile on his face, finding it odd

"hey you!" you said to lily hugging her close "you won’t believe it! chris brought someone new today! said he’s an old friend from the military” said lily raising her eyebrows at you, making you laugh, you weren’t really interested to seeing someone new right now.

simon saw the interaction at far, wondering who was behind lily, she was covering her entire frame “got eyes on someone?” chris asked suddenly “what? no, just curious who’s behind her” the moment he said that, lily moved, making simon’s heart freeze.

he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. you. all dolled up, beautiful as ever, a long black coat not hiding your curves under the skin tight black dress at all, the all black outfit complementing your absolutely beautiful face, those black tights making your legs look lovely in those high knee boots, to say he was in a trance was the least, he didn’t even realize you were in front on him, a very deep blush covering your cheeks, your scarf not helping you at all.

“simon?” he missed your voice, your soft angelic voice that brought him comfort after the hell he endured in a long mission, your voice that assured him everyday that he was loved.

you heard him say your name, making your heart stop for a second, it’s been a while 2 years since you heard his deep voice. you just kept staring at him, a bit wide eyed.

he felt his voice thick with emotion, aching to touch you again and feel your soft hands on him “so you are the old friend huh” you said after simon didn’t moved at all he was shocked

what a small world you thought “you know him?” asked lily to you in a small voice “uhm, yeah! long time ago though”

-

you just parted ways and never contacted each other again you were scared you would bother him if you called to see how he was simon went to a long mission, kept small contact with you, but he could see the distance that was growing between you both. he understood the breakup, quite healthy actually, but that didn’t mean you didn’t love each other anymore, it was hard dealing with the distance.

2 years passed, simon thinking of you practically 24/7, wondering where you were, thinking if he should call you to see how you were, and 2 years of you trying to move on, never forgetting him, matter of fact, you kept thinking of the breakup over and over again, thinking maybe you made a wrong choice.

after a while you thought maybe dating again would help, but you accidentally picked a very wrong guy a psycho to catch feelings for.

-

you could feel his stare on you as you moved to sit next to him, the only seat left, even though the table was big, simon chose to sit on the side where he had no chairs beside him on both sides, so he could spread comfortably.

but now he had your knees on his left side, you bumped into them a little, muttering a small sorry, simon feeling warm inside after finally feeling you again

he was checking you out, similar to what you were doing, you noticed his arms got bigger, bulging from his hoodie, making your mind go to another complete direction, you hoped your scarf covered your cheeks.

as the night passed, simon saw the way you slowly passed from tipsy, to funny drunk, your scarf long forgotten, making simon eyes wander to your chest, he remembered that of you, everytime you drank, you literally became the embodiment of a comedian.

right now you were way too deep in a debate about cats, the wine making your head go back to what you usually debate when your drunk, cats plotting against humanity.

“i swear everytime those fur balls purr they get inside our minds” you slurred, confidently laying back on the chair nodding your head, “as soon as suzy makes that cute as hell sound, i’m on my knees for her, which is weird you guys! they are contrlling us!" grabbing your glass of vodka again, until you felt a hand on top of you

"okay okay! you know what?" chris's laugh was way too contagious, making you laugh with him as well "i think its enough for today, why don't we move this to your flat?"

after many failed attempts of trying to open your door, and laughing manically, you finally made it, inviting all in, you knew this was a good idea, chris and lily helped you plan all this, the closer they are with you, the less he could come close to you.

as simon passed in front of you, you made eye contact with him, all the memories came flooding back to you. you felt simon touch briefly your hand, making you feel warm inside.

everyone accommodated to your 2 big sofas in your living room, you had your small desk behind the sofas where you worked, and the kitchen on the right side, it was an open kitchen.

you, not wanting the party over, went directly to the kitchen to grab some wine “anyone wants a glass of wine?” they all said yes. the only ones missing were 2 of chris’ friends, they went to buy some beer.

after serving the glasses of wine, you remembered a talk you had with simon a while ago

-

“doll, you really need to make this posters, i bet people would buy them, they are way too original” said simon looking to you, locking his arms around you, you were on his lap finishing a design, and simon kept distracting you with his small kisses here and there, on your neck mostly

“maybe in the future i will print them” you said with a small smile, nervous to show your works.

-

you nudged simon on his arms with a small smile and moved your head to your left side, where your room was “i want to show you something” simon was up in an instant.

as you opened the door to your room, you heard simon inhale deeply behind you, the alcohol making you forget what you two did inside this room simon literally rearranging your guts every night, you grabbed his big hand and moved him to sit on the bed, simon was very confused, because why on earth is he in your room.

you went behind your bookcase, and grabbed a big poster on your hand “look, i finally did it” simon was at loss of words, it was a design you both made one night, it had a special meaning for you both.

you went to sit next to him “i print it to remember us” you said slurring a little, the alcohol was sure as hell making you very open to him. as you slowly put your head on his shoulder, simon freezed to the spot.

“i remember when we made it” his gruff voice said, giving you shivers down your spine, you were so close to him, feeling his heartbeat on you, wondering if he felt how fast was yours beating.

you moved your head up to look at him, and he could feel your eyes on him, not daring to move his eyes because he would definitely kiss you right there. you just looked so beautiful tonight. “i still do them on my free time, but this is the one i love the most”

your hand moved to his thigh unconsciously, you used to put your hand on his thigh anytime, you liked it. but you forgot you are in the present right now, and simon with his thigh tense “oh! sorry sorry! i think i drank a bit too much” you said laughing, standing up with the poster on his hand. “i-i need to go to the bath-bathroom, wanna join?” you said laughing and slurring way too much. when you moved to the door, your eyes widened, slapping your hand on your forehead “wait n-no, that’s when i shower, hah, for-forget my invitashion” you said nervously speed walking to your bathroom, leaving simon alone in your room, he laughed, he really missed you.

you grabbed your glass of wine after going to the bathroom, sitting next to simon on the sofa, he was really close to you, you could move just an inch and be on his lap, you really miss sitting there, your favorite spot, but your mind still has a bit of self control, so you just kept nudging him with your knee laughing, making simon feel warm inside for the 500th time tonight.

chris was telling a joke when you heard the doorbell ring, remembering the friends of chris went to buy beer, so, you stood up to go to the door alone, big mistake, you opened the door with a big smile on your face, until you saw him, on your door, with a deathly smile to you. any trace of alcohol in your body vanished, as well as your smile. you felt your heart stop for a second, fear coming all the way up to your throat.

your door had a small hallway, so your friends couldn’t see who was on your door, you just closed the door with any force you could “go away!” you muttered with a small voice, anxiety was making you not breathe well constricting your voice. simon heard that, making his breath stop for a moment.

you tried closing the door on him but he opened with a lot of force, almost breaking it. he started walking towards you.

“go away!” you screamed, trying to push him out of your apartment, but he had way too much strength. simon heard the scream and immediately stood up. in less than a second he saw your small frame pushed to the plant behind you making you hit your head. he saw this psycho push you even harder to the wall, making you whimper, and he went mad.

chris got there faster than simon, the sofa he was in was closer to the hallway, and tried pushing him out of you, but the psycho had more force than him, he just pushed him away to the floor.

you were on the floor, your nose bleeding, making you worried, even though your eyes were spiraling all over the room. you had your back to him making it hard to see his next move, a big punch on your left hip, making you scream.

the bastard stomped on your hip, a small crack was heard. your screams made simon see red. the man almost got on top on you, until simon grabbed him with all his force and moved him away from you, chris grabbed him and punched him in the face repeatedly, dragging him out of the apartment.

by then, you were crying hard, you couldn’t feel your leg anymore, there was blood on the floor, when did this happen? you felt the panick attack creeping up on you “simon?” you said in between breaths, lily was calling 911 near you. “i’m here doll, hey look at me, i’m right here” you tried finding him but you were seeing small spots on your eyes making you dizzy “fucking hell, lily we need to take her to the hospital” simon was panicked, you were about to go unconscious. who the hell was that guy?

“hey, doll, come on, look at me, yes just like that” you tried your hardest looking at him, but your leg hurted too much “my leg hurts! i can’t move it” you said between whimpers. simon tried to stand you up, but you just couldn’t “baby, you’ll be okay, try not to think of your leg okay?” you felt simon arms slowly carry you to the door, you were staining his shirt with your nose bleed, but he didn’t care, he just needed to get you to the hospital.

he managed to get you out of the door, until you started to see black all around you, the last thing you heard was your name from simon’s panicked voice.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

hiiii, so! how was part 1? i just finished writing this, but i’ll start tomorrow writing part 2, there’ll be little to no angst in this story i get way too anxious with that xd im a sucker for fluff so there will be quite a lot of fluff in here hehe

as you can see, i like adding a pic of the outfit jiji, but! feel free to imagine it as your own! :P

i had this story in my mind for like 3 months i kept daydreaming about it and thought huh 🤔 why don’t i make it a story , i finally wrote it down! yay #proud! anyways idk how many parts this will be, i’ll write the plot as it goes, but it will be most likely centered between reader x simon so! hope you liked it!!!

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Kidney Bean & The Grape (The Surprise, Part 3)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: emetophobia (nothing graphic, but characters discuss morning sickness), mostly fluff, established relationship, pregnancy times, some explicit language Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Weeks 8 & 9 of your pregnancy are underway. Morning sickness has hit you like a freight train and you're feeling sick and gross and weak. Thankfully, Emily is always there by your side.

Week 8: The Kidney Bean

You slumped into the wall next to the toilet, shaking, a thin coating of sweat covering your face. You were so tired, so tired, of throwing up. You’d read that not all pregnant people experienced morning sickness, and that not all of the ones who did puked, and not all the ones who puked did so on a daily basis. You sent a silent fuck you into the ether to all those people.

Emily crept into the bathroom, a cup of ice chips and your favorite tiny spoon in hand. “Oh, honey,” she said, looking at you with the most pitiful, helpless expression you’d ever seen. Your hunched, exhausted body broke her heart.

You groaned and leaned your head against the tiled wall, trying to breathe steadily as waves of nausea coursed through you.

Emily grabbed a washrag from under the sink, running it under the faucet and squeezing out the excess. She folded it carefully, then sat down on the floor next to you, placing the cool rag gently on the back of your neck. She played with the messy strands of hair at your nape as she held the washrag in place.

“You think you can manage some ice chips?” she asked quietly. You thought for a moment before nodding.

You sat up and reached to grab the cup from her, your hand grazing one of your breasts. A searing, rhythmic pain shot through your body, and you doubled over, clutching your chest.

“Ow! Fuck!” you yelled, bursting immediately and uncontrollably into tears. Pain and nausea and hormones coursed through you like tributaries of some awful, body-wide river. Yet another thing you hated about being pregnant.

“What!? What happened!? Are you okay!?” Emily asked, scanning your body for harm.

You leaned into her, and she wrapped her arms protectively around your shaking body. You could count on one hand the number of times in your adult life that you’d full-on sobbed–until the last two weeks. Now you’d need at least four or five hands.

“I–” you gasped, gulping in great breaths of air as tears streamed down your face. “I hit my boob when I reached for the ice!” It would be funny if you weren’t so pitiful, if you hadn’t been nauseated and in pain for eight days straight now. The knowledge that it could and likely would last for months made you physically ill.

Emily shushed you and held your face to her chest as you cried. She knew that you’d both made the decision that you would carry. And that it was a smart decision–you were younger than her, your career was less demanding and unpredictable, and you worked from home. But at this moment? She wished with everything in her that it was her body and not yours going through all this.

As Emily rocked you, she felt like crying, too, even though this wasn’t hard for her, at least not like it was for you. It was easy to hold you when you cried. Easy to be there for you, to comfort you. To bring you plain toast and ice chips and to hand wash your tiny spoon so it was always ready. It was easy to hold back your hair while you vomited, to scrub the toilet every night so it’d be clean when you got up in the morning.

This was the hard part: watching you struggle, watching your body go through absolute hell, and not being able to do a thing about it. Somehow it was worse because you’d chosen to do it. For her. For the both of you, so that you could start a family. Emily had never realized what an immense sacrifice it was to grow a baby. You’d sacrificed your body, your time, your comfort, everything, to house this little human. It was humbling to watch.

When your sobs quieted to the occasional sniffle, she started running her fingers through your hair, matching the rhythm to your breath–or maybe it was the other way around.

“I’m so sorry you feel so bad, honey,” Emily said, her mouth pressed to the side of your head, trying to convey all the love and empathy and admiration she held for you. “Thank you for doing all this. For me and for us and for the little kidney bean. You’re amazing.”

You sat up, slowly reaching to grab the cup of ice chips.

“I thought we were calling her the blueberry?” you said, your voice still wavering, as you pressed the cool spoon experimentally to your lips.

Emily rubbed your back in gentle circles, her fingers cool and soothing from holding the ice chips. “Last week he was a blueberry. This week he’s the size of a kidney bean.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in thought, your hair a hornet’s nest, tiny little spoon poking out of your mouth. Emily beamed at you. Even now, when you felt your absolute shittiest, you were the most adorable person she’d ever clapped eyes on.

“So we’re just gonna change her nickname every week?”

“I mean, I am,” Emily decided, scooping a piece of ice out of your cup and crunching it in her mouth. “It helps me remember how big he is.”

You sighed, placing a gentle, protective hand over your stomach. Minus the puking and the insane hormones, it was still hard to believe there was a little human inside of you.

“You’re giving me a lot of shit, bean,” you said, directing your voice to your stomach. “You better be really cute.”

Emily leaned her head against your shoulder. “He’s made of you,” she observed. “How could he not be?”

You looked at her, feeling tears prickle at your eyes again. You huffed, sniffling and attempting to suck the tears back into your body.

“Ugh, stop being so romantic!” you exclaimed, smiling and wiping away a few rogue tears. You took her hand in yours, letting out a deep, shaky breath. “If you keep that up, I’ll never stop crying.”

“Anything for you,” she acquiesced. And you knew she meant it. She really would do anything for you. She’d go to the ends of the earth for you.

“Anything?”

“Mmhm,” she nodded.

“Even Ritz crackers?”

She laughed and kissed the side of your head before pushing herself to her feet. “One plate of Ritz crackers, coming right up.”

“My hero!” you called after her. And you meant it.

Week 9: The Grape

You wrestled against the apple slicer, standing on tiptoes to try to get enough leverage to break through. You were unreasonably angry at how much you were struggling. Leverage was usually an issue–you were short. But now your arms were weak and achy, too, like they were made of rubber.

Emily walked through the door, dropping her bag by the entryway and smiling at your struggling, tiptoed form.

“Need some help?” she asked, wrapping her arms around you from behind and kissing you on the cheek.

“No,” you huffed.

She raised her eyebrows at you.

You sighed. “Yes.”

“That’s what I thought,” she gloated, planting tiny, fluttering kisses all over your face and neck until you were giggling and your frustration had dissipated.

Emily maneuvered your body around so she could place her hands on either side of your face. She stared into your eyes for a moment before leaning down to kiss you. You didn’t know what she’d seen at work that day, what kind of gruesome, perverted crimes she was dealing with, but whatever it was, you could feel the stress of it, the darkness, seeping off and away as she relaxed into you. She kissed you eagerly, earnestly, as if you were a cool body of water after a long, dry journey.

When you ran out of air, you pulled away and pressed your head into her chest, wrapping your arms tightly around her. She exhaled heavily and carefully cradled the back of your head, resting her chin on top.

“You’re really great to come home to, you know that?” she told you, her voice vibrating around you as you hugged her.

“You want to talk about it?” you asked quietly, pulling away to look her in the eyes.

She shook her head. “No, not yet.”

You nodded and squeezed her hand. You wouldn’t push her to tell you, you never did. But she knew you were there to listen when she was ready to talk.

“Alright, let’s get you your snack,” she said, clearly wanting to move away from thinking about work.

You opened a cabinet, standing on tiptoes again to try and reach a jar of peanut butter.

“Hey,” Emily chastised, grasping at your reaching hand and squeezing it. “You go sit down. I’ll get it.”

“I can get my own snack, Emily,” you protested. You knew you were going to have to be less independent during your pregnancy, and it was a hard transition for you to make. You didn’t like depending on people, even Emily, though you were getting better about it the longer you were in a relationship with her.

“I know you can,” she said, pressing down the apple slicer as if it was nothing but a stapler. “But I like to take care of my wife.”

You couldn’t help but smile, blushing a little, as Emily peeled off one of the apple slices and popped it in your mouth.

“Now go sit down,” she ordered, playfully smacking your ass. You rolled your eyes but did as you were told. “Why don’t you queue up one of those animated shows you like so much? I’m not done with She-Ra yet, am I?”

Your face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really!?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, of course. I gotta find out if they finally kiss.” She stared at you pointedly. “It seems like they should, right?” She was always trying to get you to reveal plot spoilers, and you were so gullible you often fell for it.

You raised your hands and shook your head as you plopped down on your corner of the couch.

“Listen, I’ll neither confirm nor deny any Sapphic plotlines.”

“Asshole,” she called, spooning peanut butter onto a plate with the apples.

She walked over to you, plate in hand, and sat down on the couch, raising her hands in the air so you could get into your normal TV-watching position.

You’d been embarrassed at first by how much you loved your head in Emily’s lap, how comfortable and safe it made you feel. For months when you’d first started dating, you’d always wait for her to pull you into her, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally did. Until one day, she’d sat down on the couch, lifted up her arms and said, “Come on, get in your spot.”

You rested your head in her lap, relishing the weight of her arms as she lowered them. You pressed play on She-Ra, and Emily passed you an apple slice dipped in peanut butter. You crunched happily. This was a good night for you. Your favorite show. Your favorite snack. Your favorite person. Almost no nausea!

Between apple slices, Emily ran her fingers through your hair. You hadn’t felt so relaxed in weeks. So relaxed you could almost…

“Hey,” Emily prompted, holding out an apple slice, but you didn’t answer. She looked down and brushed your hair out of your eyes to find you sound asleep. She smiled softly and ate the apple slice herself.

Emily loved watching you sleep. You always slept curled, your fist resting next to your face like a baby whose thumb had slipped out of its mouth in the middle of the night. She wondered briefly if the baby would sleep like that, too, and the thought gave her butterflies. She paused the show, knowing you’d be sad later if she watched it without you–you liked to watch her watch.

She scrolled through shows and movies, but finally gave up. All she wanted to watch was you. Her heart melted as you tensed and stretched a little in your sleep, your hand wrapping protectively around your stomach. She knew she should get up, should move you to the bed. She knew that once you got there, you’d curl right back into her. That she would wrap her arms tightly around you and bury her head in your neck and hold you and the baby. She’d hold you both so close, so careful and secure, and she’d sleep well knowing you were there next to her.

There was only one person in the world she trusted to keep her family safe, and that was her. Soon, she’d move you to the bedroom. Soon, she’d turn off the lights and arm the alarms and crawl into bed next to the love of her life and her unborn child. But for now–she just wanted to watch you, your hair through her fingers and the sound of your breathing grounding her to all that was good in the world.